“Arms at your side, head back against my chest, feet apart, Talia,” he commanded.
Clemsen and Sandris stood there watching, practically licking their lips. Sierran, her own personal bodyguard, watched with a scowl on his face and ordered the two men to leave the room. Then he stood there, waiting.
“Isn’t she lovely, Sierran?”
“The loveliest, Barishna,” he replied.
“So lovely that she gained the attention of my enemy. Of a man I intended to do business with,” he said.
“What?” she asked, and he abruptly slid his hand from under her arm to her breast.
“Not a word, Talia. Your punishment awaits you,” he said, his tone so evil, so hard, she shivered, even now, as she pulled the pillow against her chest and felt the tears flow. She could smell his cologne, feel his hard hands against her breast, that thick gold ring he wore scrape against her neck. He even used the hard stone of that ring to strike her on the head when she wasn’t expecting it. He was evil.
That was a week before she started to set the ground for leaving him. That night, he punished her. Hurt her, made her see that she caused him to lose a business deal. She couldn’t understand how since she wasn’t the one flirting, that the businessman did, but he didn’t see it that way. No. She was at fault. He wanted her to show only attention to him. Submission to him, and to kneel before him in front of that businessman, and perhaps service him to show her commitment and respect, as well as her position as Barishna’s sex slave and woman.
Tears flowed. She lived scared for the better part of a year. When her brother called, Barishna didn’t even tell her. He made up lies. Told Nathan that she wanted nothing to do with him because he left her and her father to go into the service. Little did he know that she and Nathan shared a bond, a connection beyond blood, beyond being brother and sister. They got through so much. She wrote him, she called him, and he sent her things when he could. It wasn’t until she went to that post office box two towns over and saw Sierran that she realized that Barishna found out. Her punishments were painful that night. She hugged the pillow tightly against her chest, remembering shivering in fear.
She squeezed her eyes tight and forced images of that night, of that pain, away and pictured Vacarro, Spadaro, Basile, and Tat. They would have protected her. They would be able to kill a man like Barishna.
She imagined them, each of them in her mind.
Vacarro. Dark black hair, not quite a crew cut, some hair in the front swept down slightly, reaching his eyebrows. It was thick and lustrous. His eyes, bold dark brown, and the neck muscles he had protruded from the collars of his shirts he wore. His arm muscles were more than likely defined and magazine-worthy. All of their muscles and the way their shirts stretched across them made her think of a muscle magazine, or some Zeus statue of perfect physique. He had a strong, defined nose, chiseled cheekbones, and a look in his eyes that warned all how serious he could be. Yet when he looked at her after kissing her, it softened, and he seemed stunned. Had she stunned him like he did her? Kissing her just because he felt an attraction or initially was it his want of making a move? Right now, she didn’t care. If he were here, if any of them were here, she would get lost in their arms. Perhaps she couldn’t have sex with them, because of the scars and the pain she felt, but she would just absorb all those muscles and feel safe, even if only for a few minutes.
Basile would allow only a few minutes. No, he was fierce, sort of quiet, yet charismatic at the same time. He shared that same look as Vacarro. He hid emotions, yet when he stroked her jaw, stared into her eyes, it felt like he could see to her soul. How strange was that? How could she believe that men so much older, so experienced in life never mind with women, looked at her and felt more than just lust, a need to possess her body and then leave her?
She felt sick, hollow, defeated instantly with that thought.
She wanted to be more than sex. More than just flesh to claim, to pound into for their satisfaction. Even if she knew she would be satisfied sexually by them, it was like that deep, inner connection was numb from the abuse she sustained. Perhaps she wasn’t capable of being loved or loving.
Spadaro and Tat popped into her head. Both were superior men. Tat was a leader, with dark crew cut hair, thick, wide shoulders, commanding and demanding, with tattoos on his arms, thick muscular thighs and forearms that were so thick and muscular they looked like weapons in themselves. With hands that big—hell, all their hands were big—they could crush her with one of them. Squeeze off her breathing, end her life so easily. She closed her eyes and felt the tightness in her neck. Barishna grabbed her by her neck more times than she cared to remember. In private, sometimes when he gripped her neck so tight as he claimed her, she choked for air. Tears flowed, and then Spadaro entered her mind.
“Spadaro,” she whispered, and thought about the mysterious, dark-haired, dark-eyed man who looked ready to kill, ready to tear a person apart. He didn’t smile, his expression didn’t lighten. No, he was a man who experienced bad things, maybe even pain, but you wouldn’t dare ask him. No, he was in control, he was in command, and he was a man who would make you meet your maker with a snap from his fingers.
She gulped.
Why then did it arouse her, did it make her imagine him holding her firmly by her hips, those dark, sexy, intense eyes glued to hers as he made love to her? Why? Why would she not think of all their muscles, their capabilities as members of SOJ, of their ages, their obvious experiences as danger? A danger she surely would never survive from. Why, she asked herself, but her mind and heart ignored her warnings, as she closed her eyes and thought of the four of them right here, right now, protecting her and taking away her pain.
More tears ran down her cheeks, and her heart ached, because deep down she knew nothing could ever happen. She had no more heart and soul to give. Barishna’s evil tactics and games screwed her up mentally and physically. She could not love again, never mind be loved. Natalia Bolchecci was broken and dead forever. Talia Morgan was destined for loneliness and a life of fear, forever.
Chapter Five
“We’re not the only ones watching this place. What the fuck, Tat?” Vacarro asked him.
They were in military attire, all in black, and preparing to infiltrate the house Portros was held up in with his associates. A few of the men were outside on guard, but smoke filtered through the chimney inside, and the smell of food filled the woods.
Tat looked through his binoculars.
“I see two men in camo,” he whispered.
“I got another one to the right of us,” Basile said, looking through his binoculars.
“Three is an odd number,” Spadaro whispered.
“He’s making his way closer now,” Tat said.
“Fuck, what is this shit? Who are these three guys?” Vacarro stated.
“This is our catch. Those four men could be anyone. Hell, men Portros pissed off. We all saw the pictures of that fucking bloodbath they left behind them,” Basile said to them.
“Wait for Flame and Slova’s signal,” Tat said, but then the men started moving in.
“They’re pro,” Vacarro whispered as one of them swiftly and quietly took out one of Portros’s men with a twist of his hands, breaking the guy’s neck. Then the others followed, taking more men out one by one. But when they got to the door of the house, gunfire erupted.
“There’s the signal from Flame,” Tat said, and they moved in to assist.
“Are the others bad or good?” Vacarro asked, and then that was it. They were shooting at men coming out of the house in sets of three. A hell of a lot more men than any of them expected.
Vacarro was with Basile as they entered through the side door. He saw two men in plain clothes, and he and Basile fired as the men pointed their guns at them. Shots were going off everywhere, and they could hear their team members’ voices in the earphones. Tat, Spadaro, and then Flame, Yani, and Slova. Then they heard Flame yelling to Spadaro that they were friendlies, and then
Spadaro cursed.
“Fuck.”
It was a fucking shitshow, but when the shots died down and the smoke cleared, the bad guys were down and dead, including Portros.
Vacarro and Basile met up with Tat and Spadaro. Some man in black was holding his arm, which was bleeding.
“Didn’t know you were friendlies. You kind of sneaked up in here,” Tat said in an annoyed tone.
“Who the fuck are you guys? What is this shit Flame?” Another man was checking out the gunshot to the other soldier’s arm.
“Damn, what a fucking mess. Thank God I saw your fucking stance, Cole, or I would have put a bullet in your head,” Flame said to one guy.
“In my head? Shit, not a fucking chance in hell, Flame.” Cole chuckled.
“Fuck! This stings. Fuck,” the guy with a flesh wound in his arm said and looked pissed off.
“Hey, could have been worse,” Spadaro said to him.
“How fucking so?” he yelled at Spadaro.
“I could have killed you. Thank your buddy Flame there for staying in communications with us through radio. I heard friendlies just as I was about to send you to meet your maker,” Spadaro said and then eyed the man over.
“My fucking maker?” the guy roared.
“Okay, it was a fucking accident, Woodrow. We’re all on the same fucking team,” Flame said to them. Yani and Slova laughed.
“So you say, but you haven’t told us what the fuck you’re doing here, Flame, or who the fuck these guys are,” the one guy wrapping the injured guy’s arm said.
“Allow me to make introductions, Bronco,” Flame said to the guy wrapping Woodrow’s arm.
“This very unhappy man here is Woodrow, and I’m glad you didn’t kill him, Spadaro,” Flame said to Spadaro.
“This is Bronco, and this is Cole.”
“Men, I would like you all to meet some very close friends of mine, Spadaro, Tat, Basile, and Vacarro,” Flame said.
“Well, isn’t this just nice and cozy? Can you all remember that we have about two dozen bodies lying around here and outside? And one of them is Portros, and there’s no fucking sign of Locust,” Yani said, holding his gun and preparing for the next kill with it cocked and ready.
Vacarro looked at Basile.
“Well, a successful fucking mission. Good riddance to the fuck,” Vacarro said.
“Ooh rah!” Basile said, and they all chimed in “Ooh rah!”
“Not a celebration for us. We wanted him alive,” Woodrow said and looked somber now instead of pissed.
“Locust can’t be far, which means he’ll run for safety and our target will know it was us that killed Portros,” Cole said to them.
“But it leaves us right back to where we were,” Woodrow said.
“We’ll work it out,” Bronco said as if silencing the other soldier from continuing. Vacarro figured it had to do with why they were here and after Portros.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here and then talk about why we were all after the same guy,” Flame said.
“Just because you’re friends with them doesn’t mean we’re ready to expose our mission,” Woodrow stated, obviously pissed off for getting shot.
“Well, unfortunately for you guys, despite being my friends, you were in the middle of an operation you shouldn’t have been involved in, and I personally want to know how you knew Portros was here and why did you want him, especially since you and your team are on limited duty,” Yani said.
The expressions on those soldiers’ faces could not be misconstrued. Vacarro instantly had a feeling that things were going to get even more complicated, and these men were hiding something, but what?
* * * *
“What the fuck is this all about?” Flame asked Bronco in the back room of a chalet they were staying in.
Bronco exhaled.
“We’ve known one another for years. If you and the team are involved in something…” Flame said to him.
“It’s complicated,” Bronco said and glanced at Woodrow and Cole.
“Illegal?” Flame asked.
“Only when we need to,” Woodrow said, and Flame could tell they were really pissed off.
“Fuck, why did you need Portros alive?”
“To get information from him. We know he’s connected to this guy we’ve been looking for,” Cole said to him.
“What guy and why?” Flame asked.
“Flame, it’s fucking personal and has to do with Spade and Nathan, too,”
“So why aren’t they here with you, Bronco?” Flame asked.
“They’re working on things on their end. We caught wind of this hit on a weapons warehouse and this militia Portros and Locust were running. Then we heard through some sources that they were held up in that cabin. You showed up with your crazy ruthless friends, and there ya go. Now our target is dead, and we have no leads,” Woodrow stated in annoyance.
“First of all, my friends are some of the best soldiers. Also, FYI, Sons of Justice,” Flame stated, and all three men’s eyes widened.
“Yeah, so no bullshit here, what did you want from Portros? Explain and perhaps I can assist and leave your presence out of this situation with our commanders,” Flame said to them.
“No one can know. Not your SOJ friends either. If you’re going to tell them, then forget it. We aren’t fucking talking,” Cole said to him.
Flame looked at them and then exhaled. He took a seat by the desk in the room.
“Okay, can Yani, Slova, and Cast know?” he asked.
“If you deem it necessary, but the fewer who know, the safer we’ll all be,” Bronco said.
“Shit,” Flame said. “Go ahead and explain.”
* * * *
Cole looked at Bronco and Woodrow.
“Nathan has a sister. Approximately four years ago, while living with her father in Italy, she was sold to a businessman he was working for,” Cole said to him.
“What do you mean, sold? And Nathan didn’t go after this fucking guy and kill him?” Flame asked.
“It’s complicated, and without going into a thousand details, basically her father cut Nathan off and then made him believe that his sister wanted nothing to do with him. But their bond is strong, and she set up a private PO box under a fake name. Anyway, they were communicating, and then her responses were getting fewer and fewer, and in her letters, she sounded depressed. Nathan tried to go see her in between one of our tours, and she wasn’t with her father. Things seemed off. Fast forward a year, and between missions and thank God Nathan became obsessed with finding her and talking to her, believing his gut was saying something was wrong,” Cole said.
“We found out that her father, the cruel evil fuck, sold her to this businessman. We couldn’t even get close to her. She had guards, men with weapons, and the local authorities were no help. When we tried confronting this guy, it turned into a fucking shitshow, and then his sister contacts him and says she wants nothing to do with Nathan because he chose the Marine Corps and he didn’t really care and she had a new life and to please leave her alone. At first, he was so pissed off and sad, but then for months it played on his gut. He really felt like something was wrong, and it was. This man forced her to say that in order to keep her under his control,” Bronco said.
“By accident, actually, we found out about these guys, businessmen and total assholes in Italy like a gang, who wanted to screw this guy over, so they made a deal with a close associate of his, this guy Milton, who was super close to Barishna—that’s the guy who had Nathan’s sister. So we make a plan, a military one, and use what sources we have and spread some lies with the right people as Barishna is hunted at this chalet in Trento. As this low-grade military group move in to get him, we realize Nathan’s sister is there and we move in. Those soldiers chase down Barishna, and we get inside, and it’s a fucking mess,” Cole said to him.
“A mess, what do you mean?” Flame asks.
“Nathan’s sister was tied to a bed, beaten and bloody, and the son of a bitch carved
the first letter of his fucking name into her ribs. None of us will ever forget how we found her. How scared she was, and continues to be scared, because that fuck Barishna lives and is in hiding,” Woodrow stated. Flame was shocked.
“So you never found him, and obviously that gang of shit didn’t find him either.”
“No, Flame, Milton was able to find out it was all bullshit and called off the hunt. Barishna went crazy losing Nathan’s sister and has been looking for her since.”
“So you have her in safe keeping somewhere?” Flame asked.
“Yes, and it’s been three years. We aren’t going to tell you or anyone else where she is, but she’s safe, trying to recover from being this fuck’s possession. He fucked with her head good, but she’s been training, and we’ve been working nonstop on trying to find Barishna,” Cole told him.
“So what’s with getting Portros?” Flame asked.
“He got connected to Barishna with a job or two over the years. Badass shit because these men are killers. Barishna is a businessman, but he’s so damn pompous, and because we’re looking for him, he can’t run his regular businesses, so he’s doing illegal shit with criminal assholes. However, because of that, we can use our military connections, well, at least some. We still have to find out connections to Barishna. Like this guy Portros, he’s friends with Sandris, a main associate and sort of guard to Barishna. There are three men close to him and still alive. One of them, Sierran, is after us. He was Nathan’s sister’s personal bodyguard. He’s a killer, and Nathan believes that he knows where Nathan is and is watching him. So Nathan still hasn’t seen his sister since the night we rescued her,” Woodrow said to him.
“Holy shit. This is crazy. What can I do to help? I know if I tell my men, they’ll want to help, too. Maybe we can use our connections, or better yet, the connections Tat and his team have with SOJ,” Flame said.
“No. Absolutely no one else needs to be involved, or we could all get killed. We don’t know how many more connections or how far Barishna’s reach is. Our plan is to take each of these assholes out one by one and start strangling his money supply and operations. Despite getting help, we want to spread that it was us who killed Portros so Barishna knows we’re close,” Bronco told him.
Sons of Justice 10 Deliver Us from Evil Page 8