by Brick
“He was hurting her, Tone. Making me listen to her screams.” Kenya turned. The emotion in her voice was intense. It was frantic. It was shattering. It was hostile. It was furious. She pushed at my shoulder to stop my shock then clapped her hands under my face.
I will kill that motherfucker!
“Do you hear me? He was hurting her! Why are we still here?”
Several blinks and my mind seemed to reboot. Everything Kenya said made me snarl. If I had been a pit bull, I’d have growled. We were close to our daughter, and this shit was the last straw.
“I don’t fucking know.” Taking Kenya’s wrist, I forced her to exit the room. I needed blood, and I needed it now! “It’s time to go.”
Chapter 23
Antonio
Leaving Kenya in the hands of my father didn’t take but a second. Breaking down what she said happened when she called our daughter didn’t take but a second. What did take long was getting to Augusta. I wanted to be there as soon as I stepped out of my father’s home, but that isn’t how traveling works. Each of us rode out in blacked-out Escalades. Each SUV left fifteen minutes after another, so not to appear suspicious. That meant that, because I was in the first car, I left first.
Kenya had explained that she’d called our daughter, only to get her voicemail. A secret part of her had done it in hopes that she’d pick up. Kenya was holding out faith, but that didn’t happen. Therefore, because of that, she called back, this time just to hear our daughter’s voicemail again. When she waited for it to click over, on the last ring her call was answered. She explained that she heard nothing for a long time. All she heard was dead air, then a whimper. Then the sound of springs creaking as if it were an old bed. Then screams and cries. Then our daughter calling for our help, followed by a loud, crashing bang. Then harsh laughter and silence.
It didn’t take any coercion in getting Caltrone to leave. He was like me, already leaving before she could even form another sentence. By the time we made it, it was so dark not even shadows could be seen. We were parked hidden in the forest that blanketed the terrain. From what I saw from the map, the place was a dilapidated old farmhouse sitting on almost a full acre of land. Because it was near farmland and forest, the next home to it was maybe ten to twenty minutes away if walking.
That was perfect for us and clearly it was perfect for him. This meant that if anything loud popped off, no one would really hear it. The forest would swallow up the sound and provide cover in our battle. Rearing myself up for the main battle, I rolled my shoulders, then climbed out of the SUV. Grass and leaves crunched under my military-grade boots. I stood in all black from head to toe, full ski mask on, black functional jeans under which I had on armor leggings and a beater, Kevlar vest, and a ballistic jersey. I was ready for battle. Military-grade face paint added to the mix, camouflaging me into the dark.
It was dark. Not the typical darkness. Naw, this was the kind of inky blackness that always swallowed the swamps of Florida if you found yourself out too far from the city of Miami. I grew up in this type of darkness. As a kid, I used to watch the skies on the back patio, counting the stars and hanging Christmas lights as my only source of vision while mi madre left me to teach tourists how to salsa and merengue. Mi madre trusted no one but my aunt Mariposa. Whenever she was in town on tour with her band, she’d usually watch me. Other times, I’d sit in the back of the clubs studying my mother’s dance moves and soaking up the music, or in the back staring at the skies.
Thinking about being a kid back then always put a smile on my face. It was the start of me, the start of my growth into the man I was today. Let me break this rehash of my past for a moment. There’s a saying I grew up hearing the old heads back in Cuba saying: “A lie runs until it is overtaken by the truth.” My life at that time had been nothing but truth until I had to embrace my bloodline. But back when I was an innocent kid, living a relaxed lifestyle was what gave me the tools I needed to survive in a world where the only light you sometimes can get came only from the stars.
Which was why I was able to move through the pitch-black darkness of my surroundings. I did it with ease. I was at peace in it because I controlled it. I manipulated my circumstances and, tonight, I was merging into a part of my bloodline I had chosen to avoid for years. If I hadn’t asked for help, I wouldn’t be where I was right now. Though I didn’t like what I had to do to get here, I was grateful about it.
A sharp scrape then skittering noise drew my attention. Some feral cat was making its rounds and had run past my feet while I entered a room. Musty smells tried to irritate me but I kept my cool. I had been trained well and this was nothing but a cakewalk for a nigga like me. I kept moving, stepping over shoes, running into cobwebs, all while feeling my surroundings become tighter.
I was outside a dilapidated old farmhouse in the rural outskirts of Augusta, Georgia. Being in this state wasn’t something I wanted, but circumstances occurred that pushed me to the brink of no return. My daughter willingly leaving, only to be kidnapped, was that push. No man in his right mind would allow another to take from him, no man, and I was no different. The problem for the person who took my baby girl was that he didn’t know who the fuck I was, or maybe he did. Either way, he clearly didn’t know that my bloodline was ruled by insanity. But, he was about to.
Painful, muffled cries drew my attention. I was getting closer. Ahead of me was a horizontal bar of glowing light indicating that I was approaching the front of a door.
“Keep calm and listen as I taught you, mijo,” was muttered by my side.
A large part of me didn’t want to just listen. My daughter was behind that door and I wanted to rip her from her captor’s hold, but I couldn’t. All I could do was nod and keep my calm as I was told, and listen.
“I want to go home,” was shouted out and it made my gut clench in response. It also made my finger curl against the trigger of my long-range gun while I listened to a grown-ass man bark out his wrath.
“This is our home. Shut the fuck up and act like you’re happy about it, Jewel!”
From my position, I dropped to a knee, and slid a mirror under the large gap under the door. I counted only my daughter and a bulky motherfucker. He appeared to be in his mid-twenties. Rocking Tims and a black polo shirt, nigga had a rugged pretty-boy look that I knew was the reason he was able to lure my daughter in. I watched him pull off his shirt then throw it to the side.
The nigga kept walking around a bed where my daughter lay with only a large shirt covering her body. At seventeen, my baby girl was breathtaking as her genes dictated it. It was something that was always a problem for me being that I was a father who didn’t take kindly to my only child being gawked at. See, her mother and I had her when we were sixteen and every day it was a battle for me to protect her from going through the same shit her mom and I went through at her age.
“Look, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that, Jewel. I was just excited about us finally getting away from your pops and having you here with me,” I heard while watching the mirror at my feet.
My daughter was tied up. She sat on her knees bound by several ropes linked to the headboard of the bed. Her face was untouched but her arms and, from what I could tell, the top of her thighs were cut and bruised. Fat tears fell down her caramel brown cheeks and she bit her lip while watching her kidnapper’s every move.
“I know, but I just want to go home to get some stuff, Keith,” I heard her say in a pleading voice.
“Why can’t you be happy about what you got now, huh? I brought you here ’cause I thought you’d appreciate a spot like this. Used to belong to my grandmother. Thought you’d appreciate it but, no, all you do is bitch now. Shut the fuck up, damn! You stay nagging,” he spat out. Keith took several steps toward the bed, reached out, and gripped her by her neck, squeezing as he did so.
My baby girl’s neck was not that big, so considering that nigga was built like a basketball player and his hands were large as fuck, I knew that it wouldn’t take much to snap
her like a twig. When he pushed her down on the bed, straddled her, and kept choking her, I watched as he grabbed her breasts and forcefully squeezed them.
The sound of frogs croaking seemed to soothe me. Everyone on the team knew to wait for my signal. I needed to hunt alone. Stretching my arms out, I stood near my ride staring up at the skies mentally preparing myself. Nothing but the stars shined. I inhaled and caught the scent of dew, moss, grass, and other vegetation. It was then that I moved out, leaving my whip behind me. Midnight goggles adorned my eyes; my choice rifle was strapped to my back. Two blades were in my boots, some were on my wrists, then there were my pistols. I had them on my waist, at the small of my back, on my calf, and then some.
“No, mijo. We control the moment, not him,” was said to me.
Realizing that was truth, I waited and, when I felt it was right, it was then that my shoulder met the side of the door and broke it down. Shrill screams mixed in with the pounding of my gun against that nigga’s head. I became the light in that moment, and it became my duty to follow through on everything that had been planned.
Chapter 24
Antonio
“What will you do to protect family, hijo? Remember what you’ve learned about what it takes to be a true Orlando.” A harsh zipping noise then a grunt filled the room while my father walked around me with revulsion marring his furrowed face whenever he looked around the room. “Good, you remembered your rope work,” he said in pride, thumbing his wrinkling nose.
There was a loud clamoring that ended in a satisfying bang. I moved around to clear out a suitable space with my foot. Books were everywhere. Old pizza boxes with stale crust pieces were piled up under a crowded computer desk. Soda and water bottles mixed in the cluttered madness and I knew that my pops would not be entering this room under normal circumstances.
But because this involved my daughter, who sat in a ball on a bed in the farthest corner with her eyes peering over her bruised and bloodied knees, I understood that he’d be right by my side. Soiled bedsheets lay on the floor. The bed my daughter had been chained to, now unchained with the help of my pops, was the cleanest area in this fucked-up cesspool. Used condoms lay under the bed and staring at them only pissed me off.
Without missing a beat in assessing my surroundings, my fist slammed into the temple of my daughter’s kidnapper. A second blow followed to land on his mouth and I hunkered low to stare in his face. Muffled grunting then clinking and repetitive scraping started. I watched in silence as this nigga bulked, tugged, and pulled against his bindings.
“Cable cord, my friend. The only thing you’re doing is causing your own pain,” I said in a low, even voice.
Around his waists were taut cable cords. His forearms were bare and on one was a crest branding of a knight chess piece, along with various other tattoos. Disposing of his body was going to take the lessons I learned from my father in my hunting of this nigga, along with some useful medical science.
The menacing baritone chuckle of my father began as I heard him say in Spanish, “Come with me, granddaughter. You do not want to be here for this, sweetheart.”
“Daddy?” my daughter called out to me with fear lacing her voice.
“You can trust him.” I paused in my words, resigned to what I had to say next. “He’s your grandfather and he won’t hurt you.”
Jewel’s pained whimpering started again. I looked up to see her sobbing but staying where she was. Fury simmered in my spirit. It made me punch her kidnapper in his throat. I then reached out to vise grip his Adam’s apple.
“She’s crying, you see that? You hear that? Huh?” I said through gritted teeth as I stared him in his beady eyes. “Jewel, go with your abuleo.”
When my baby girl didn’t budge, I got ready to bark at her until she shockingly said, “Daddy, I want to stay. Please.”
There was a change in her, I knew that when I blasted through the door and she shouted my name and help. My baby wasn’t the innocent seventeen-year-old she once was. Long gone were her carefree teenage years and now sat a young woman aged drastically by the trauma she had experienced. It broke me down and it had me focusing my attention back on her kidnapper.
“Sí, a’ight.”
“Yes, this is good. It’s time you learned the family way, granddaughter, and visually see what wrong choices can lead to,” Caltrone said behind me in a cold yet coddling tone.
He casually moved through the cramped room, turning on lights with his latex-covered hands. I watched from the corner of my eye while he walked into the hallway only to come back later with Kenya behind him. In her hands were several containers I had asked her to bring up from the car prior to entering this place, and on her shoulder was a huge sports bag. She had spent her time in the car waiting for our signal to enter. Kenya had fought us tooth and nail about waiting, but I had to explain without yelling that we didn’t know what we were walking into and we needed to scope the place out, which she eventually accepted. Now, she was here, ready to go into our next plan.
Hastily, Kenya sat everything down then rushed to our daughter, climbing onto the bed. “Jewel! My baby,” she cried out.
Both Kenya and Jewel held each other tightly, sobbing against each other’s shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Mommy. I thought . . .” Jewel’s voice cracked in her emotion. “It wasn’t supposed to go down like this. I’m sorry.”
I had so much that I wanted to ask my daughter and yell at my daughter, but I had more important, pressing matters. Behind me, Caltrone pulled out everything I needed, and I helped while keeping my eye on our common target.
“Keith Taggard. No, your real name is Keith Anthony, right? Yeah. Pick your poison.” Holding up two water jugs, I sloshed around one with yellowish liquid and another with clear liquid. A contemplative chuckle came from me; then I slammed them down, standing from my low crouch. Taking two long strides toward him, I gripped him by his face then pulled from his mouth his restraint: a dirty sock and shirt.
“Nah, I’ll pick. See, I’ve changed a lot since you took my daughter. Never in my life would I have believed that I’d step into this type of mentality, but I learned something from my pops: treat the world as your enemy so you never are surprised when she fucks you over. Best believe, my friend, I’m learning that well.”
Keith struggled, grunted, and then spit at my feet. “Fuck you! She’s mine. I made her become exactly what I wanted and needed. Fuck you, Orlandos.”
Nigga gave a sour laugh then tilted his head to glance at Jewel and Kenya. “Baby girl became my dirty bitch. Sucked me off, let me fuck her in every—”
“I hate you,” Jewel screamed, shaking where she sat.
At that same time, Kenya aggressively pushed off the bed, rushed the chair, then wailed on Keith. I stepped back to let her do her. She sent her elbow into his face, hitting his nose; then she pulled his head back hard to the point that, if she had the strength, she could have snapped it as she glared at him.
“Stop playing with him; fuck this bastard up,” she spat out at me in rage. “This motherfucker took our daughter. He hurt our baby. Do what the fuck you’re going to do. Fair exchange is no robbery.”
Funny enough, Kenya made my day. I smirked, studying her heated cocoa eyes, respecting the fire there and her anger. I then glanced at my father, who stood back with malice in his gaze. He said nothing and there was no need for him to do so. I knew the game. Never let your target manipulate you. Take your kill how you want. Patience is an excellent battle tactic.
“No doubt, mama. Fair exchange is no robbery.”
And that’s what I did. Yanking that bastard by his mouth, I widened his mouth, punched him again when he tried to fight me, and took one look at Kenya as she held the back of his head. A clear plastic tube was in my hand, along with a black PVC pipe fitting. With purposeful ease, I forced that fitting into his mouth then smiled. “Do you know what we had to endure in finding you both, huh? Do you understand the mental breakdown we went through?”
Keith str
uggled while attempting to spit the tube out.
I chuckled as I put my black rubber gloves on then scowled. It was not a good thing for him, because when I did so, Kenya sent her elbow into his throat, which caused him to lunge, choking.
“Take it like a big boy, Keith,” Kenya taunted, slapping his face.
Pleased with that, I continued. This time with slamming the clear tube into his mouth and happily forcing the tube down his throat and into his stomach. Tears slid from Keith’s eyes, along with a thick trail of saliva from the corners of his mouth while he fought his bindings.
My baby girl’s gasps then sobs mixed with Keith’s and I spoke on. “Let me slowly break down what we exactly had to endure in hunting your lowlife ass down, a’ight? All while we enjoy this tender moment of, well, your throat game, nigga. Listen well because we have a long night and many more gifts to give you, my friend. Now, let’s start with Mexico then Texas.”
Patting his face, I turned my back and squatted, pulling out a mason jar of scorpions. I then stared at the jugs that would be a part of something I learned to do in medical school: forced ingestion or force feeding. In the jugs were two base liquids: one water, the other a natural body-absorbing acid and other foul, corroding shit that I knew would kill him slowly but also would disappear without issue. By the time I was done with my plan, Keith would no longer be a threat to my daughter, or anyone else. Never ever fuck with an Orlando. That was legacy.
* * *
An hour later, it stank. More like reeked of the foulest of scents. The potency of it was so profound that my eyes watered. Reaching behind me, my gloved hand gripped a red plastic cup. I dropped it into warm liquid then splashed it on the source of the stench: a young nigga who felt that he could get away with taking from another man, taking from a father. The insult of it made me suck my teeth out loud in disapproval as that gagging continued.
“You shit yourself, Keith,” I said.
Slobber hung from my captive’s lips. His head lolled around and he tried his best to stare at me from behind his right eyelid, swollen shut, to no avail.