Wrath (Faith McMann Trilogy Book 3)

by T. R. Ragan

  “I mean it’s serious now, isn’t it?”

  “If you mean my time is almost up, as in days instead of weeks,” Rage said, “the answer is yes.”

  They looked at each other for a few seconds before Miranda said, “If Beast and Little Vinnie will have me, I’ll watch over them for you when you’re gone.”

  Rage closed her eyes, thankful, grateful. “It won’t be easy at first,” Rage said. “Beast will fight you on every little thing. He’ll disagree with you and piss you off more often than not. His stubbornness will make you crazy, but you have to know he’s only testing you. He’s not as tough as he looks or acts. He’s a big teddy bear.”

  Before Miranda could respond, Rage turned the key and put her foot on the gas. The engine roared to life, and so did Rage as she felt her lifeblood course through her body. “If you want to come along,” she told Miranda, “it’s time to get in!”

  TWENTY

  On her way to East Sacramento, Faith had picked up Kirsten Reich from her office. For more than an hour the two of them had been sitting in her car parked on the side of the road. They were far enough from the warehouse where they wouldn’t be noticed, but close enough to see cars coming and going.

  They took turns using the binoculars, keeping an eye on the warehouse and the buildings surrounding it. Darkness settled across the sky. The trees rustled in the wind, but still no rain.

  “Looks like we have someone positioned on the rooftop adjacent to the warehouse,” Kirsten said as she peered through the binoculars.

  Faith texted the group. Beast confirmed that two of his men were in place on the rooftops on both sides of the warehouse, giving them a clear shot at the front and back.

  Kirsten handed Faith the binoculars and grabbed the bag by her feet. She had brought almonds, carrots, and a ham sandwich, and she offered to share her meal with Faith.

  “No thanks,” Faith said, her stomach twisting as her gaze settled on the clock.

  “It’s going to be all right,” Kirsten told her, but to Faith they were hollow words that meant nothing.

  Faith dialed a number. After no one answered, she disconnected the call. “I haven’t seen Beth,” Faith said. “She’s still not answering her phone.”

  “I’m sure she’ll be here soon,” Kirsten said before she took a drink from her water bottle.

  “Do you think I’m doing the right thing?” Faith asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Sometimes I wonder what I’m doing, you know—what’s the purpose? Like now. What are the chances they’ll bring Lara to this meeting?” A pause. “I never wanted this to be my battle. I didn’t sign up for this. I never formed a group or had any intention of ever going after these people.”

  “I know how badly you want to find your daughter,” Kirsten told her, “but you’re also helping others. You’re the spark that got people talking and doing. This is your chance to make a difference.”

  “I saw a couple fighting once,” Faith told her. “It happened years ago. They were in the open, in the mall, where I was shopping with Mom. He hit her. Right there for all to see. Nobody did a thing, including me. We watched the woman cower and then drop to the floor. We watched her cry as he dragged her away. I did nothing to help. I can still see her face in my mind’s eye.”

  “I think most of us have memories of a time where we wish we’d done something more or at least spoke up.”

  “My mom was attacked and my brother-in-law was stabbed,” Faith went on. “It’s one thing to put myself in danger, but something else altogether to ask them to do the same.”

  “They’re adults. It’s up to each of them to make their own decision.” Kirsten looked Faith squarely in the eyes. “Listen. After your kids were taken, you could have sat back and done nothing and allowed the system to take over, but you didn’t. You refused to let fear rule the day. You found the courage to go out there, despite the odds, and fight for your children. Every person in this world is capable of so much more. We are all worthy, but most people don’t see it and therefore never realize it.”

  Faith nodded. Kirsten was right. People were stronger than they thought. Herself included. Nobody asked for bad things to happen, but such was life. Craig was dead. Nothing she could do would bring him back. Faith needed to suck it up for now and find her daughter. She could fall apart later.

  “We have one life,” Kirsten went on. “Standing up for a cause is never easy. It takes a brave person to stand up to their enemies. And now isn’t the time to start doubting yourself.”

  “Thank you,” Faith said, smiling.

  Both of their phones vibrated. It was Eva, a member of Kirsten’s group, letting them know she and others were ready and waiting.

  Across the street, Faith could see Beast inside Colton’s semitrailer. Dad and a few of his ex-military friends were in another truck, parked straight ahead next to the curb. The area was industrial, with good transportation access to road and rail. Trailer trucks and shipping containers were not unusual.

  Colton had been in the building for forty-five minutes now. With nothing better to do, he’d shared a video with the group, showing the inside of the building. Upstairs was a nonworking bathroom and two empty offices. Downstairs was a vast warehouse space, devoid of any shelving.

  The last time they’d heard from Colton was twenty minutes ago when he’d texted to let them know they wouldn’t be hearing from him again unless there was a problem.

  Faith wiped a tear from the side of her face. That it took the realities of child sex trafficking to open her eyes to the suffering happening all around her was beyond heart wrenching.

  “Everything OK?” Kirsten asked.

  “I’m sorry,” Faith said as she stared out the window into the darkness shadowed by the moon and dotted by drizzly, misty rain. “Nothing is OK. The entire world seems as if it has been turned upside down. How did it come to this? My entire life has been spent waking up, going to work, making dinner, grading homework, worrying about a future that will never be now. For what? I don’t understand the point of it all. It’s all been for nothing. And I’m not exaggerating or looking for sympathy.”

  She looked at Kirsten. “I have witnessed the worst of humanity and more sadness in the past two months than I ever could have imagined. And yet, even wrapped in my own grief, I know there are others out there, hundreds, thousands, perhaps millions who were born into much worse. But the simple truth is that everything I’ve done is because I want my daughter back.” She shook her head in wonder as she stared out into what suddenly looked like a dark abyss. “And to get my daughter back, I’m willing to risk your life and the lives of your friends, my neighbors, and my own family.”

  Kirsten remained silent.

  “Everyone is busy. I know I’ve been busy,” Faith said. “Too busy to open my eyes and take a good look at what was going on in my own backyard. How sad is that? Soccer practice and dance lessons. Teacher meetings and dentist appointments. Everyone talking about the weather and sports, their next vacation, and the best show on TV.”

  “This isn’t anyone’s fault,” Kirsten told her. “Every day with your loved ones is precious. Ignorance is bliss, and smelling the roses is divine. Nobody wants to spend their days looking for something they really don’t want to see anyhow.”

  A movement caught Faith’s attention. She grabbed her binoculars and began counting vehicles as one car after another pulled into the unpaved parking lot next to the warehouse. Five sedans, all dark with tinted windows.

  “One, two, three, four—eight men,” Kirsten said as she texted the information to the group. “They’re heading toward the loading dock.”

  “Hold on,” Faith said. “Two more vehicles just came around the corner.”

  They waited. Faith kept her gaze fixed on the building. The other two vehicles drove past and disappeared around the corner, making it impossible for her to see where they went.

  Their cell phones buzzed.

  Kirsten read Eva’s text
aloud. “Fifteen men have now entered the building through the rollup steel door at the loading dock, bypassing the front entry altogether.”

  Faith’s heart pounded against her ribs, her pulse racing. She worried about Colton, prayed he was well hidden. Please let him be safe.

  A car passed by. Faith peered through the binoculars, watched one lone man climb out of the vehicle. “Aster Williams,” she said as she watched him head for the building. She looked at the clock: 8:55.

  Three people dressed in jeans and hoodies pulled low over their faces were walking on the sidewalk in front of Faith and Kirsten. As they passed by, one of them stopped, glanced their way, then walked toward their car.

  Faith reached for her gun.

  “It’s Eva,” Kirsten said. “It’s OK.”

  Faith relaxed.

  Kirsten rolled down her window. “What’s going on?”

  “Two men and three children exited a van around the corner,” Eva told them. “They’ll soon be escorted into the building.” She signaled for the other women to go and she’d catch up. “We want to grab the children if the opportunity arises.” Eva tapped a hand on the car. “Time to go. See you on the flip side.”

  Faith grabbed her bag from the backseat. She tucked her Taser in one pocket and her gun into the other.

  “What are you doing?” Kirsten asked.

  “Lara could be with those men. It’s time for me to go.”

  “We need to be patient.”

  “Sorry, no can do.” Faith stepped out of the car. She was done being patient. She couldn’t sit still for another second.

  Kirsten rubbed her temple, then exited the car on the other side and began gathering her gear from the backseat.

  Faith didn’t wait for Kirsten. She pulled a cap over her head and began walking in the same direction Eva had gone. Farther down the road, on the street corner, was a group of shadowy, indistinct figures huddled together. Across the street, she saw Beast, Little Vinnie, and one of their buddies exit the semi. All three men were dressed in fatigues, from tactical boots to helmets. Beast gave her a nod before the three of them headed for the warehouse.

  Her phone vibrated. She stopped to read the text. Colton was letting them know the children were inside the building. He’d hoped to set off fire alarms, grab the children, and pull them to safety, but he couldn’t reach the alarm without being seen.

  Her nerves were raw. She looked around. Everyone had disappeared. The sky was dark and ominous, thick clouds ready to burst.

  It was time to call Detective Yuhasz. She kept the conversation short. He was not pleased.

  Faith slipped her phone into her pocket just as the dark clouds overhead broke open. She ran. As she rounded the corner, her dad called out to her. She turned back, saw him and three others near the chain-link fence surrounding the property. She ran to him and told him she’d called Detective Yuhasz.

  One of the men pointed to a stream of thick gray smoke coming from the front of the warehouse.

  “Looks like someone set off a smoke bomb,” Dad said. He waved a hand, letting his group know it was time to move in.

  Faith followed until Dad turned and stopped her. “I’d feel better if you went back to your car.”

  He knew better than to ask that of her, but before she could respond, he told her to stay safe, and then he took off with his friends.

  The sharp retort of a gun being fired startled her and stopped her from moving forward. As her dad disappeared around the front of the building, the rapid, nonstop sound of gunfire sounded from every corner of the building.

  What the hell was going on? Nobody was to fire a gun unless absolutely necessary. There were children inside the building. This was not how things were supposed to happen.

  Another text from Colton: Lara was not among the children inside. People were scrambling to get out of the building.

  Lara isn’t here. No. No. No. How can that be?

  For the first time in months, she didn’t know what to do. Her heart thudded dully in her chest as she looked toward the sky. The rain, no longer a drizzle, came down in sheets. “Lara,” she called out. “Where are you?”

  She thought of Corrie Perelman and wondered how the woman continued on, day after day. For months Faith had hardly shed a tear, but now she couldn’t stop them from coming, washed away by the rain.

  Numb to the sounds around her, she saw a movement out of the corner of her eye. The shadow turned into a man. He was standing in the middle of the street, holding a gun, and lining up his shot. She tilted her chin downward until she saw a red dot on her chest. It wasn’t terror that held her in place, but an intense feeling of loss.

  She swallowed a painful knot in her throat, waiting for a bullet to strike her down.

  Then tires squealed, rubber against pavement, as a car rounded the corner. The man with the gun looked toward the vehicle. He lifted his hand as if to shield his eyes from the bright light. Just as he was struck head-on, a shot fired. His body flew ten feet to the side of the road across from where Faith stood.

  Numb with shock, frozen in place, Faith looked down at her chest. Her hands brushed over the front of her. She couldn’t believe she was alive.

  The bright-red Volkswagen Bug stopped in front of her. The engine released a long, squeaky hiss before it died. The passenger door flung open. Faith squinted, peering through the rain. She could hardly trust her eyes when she spotted Miranda in the passenger seat and Rage behind the wheel. What were they doing here? They had saved her life.

  Before she could say a word, she caught sight of the man pushing himself to his hands and knees and crawling toward his gun.

  Miranda jumped from her seat and charged across the street to stop him.

  Faith followed a second later, intending to Tase him. Miranda, younger and faster, picked up his gun just as Faith got to him. He reached out and grabbed hold of Faith’s ankle.

  As she struggled to free herself from his grasp, he yanked hard, pulling her to the ground. She used her hands to break her fall, felt her wrist buckle on impact. She cried out in pain.

  Miranda lunged for him, kicked him hard in the gut, forcing him to let go.

  Faith found her Taser and gave him a jolt. He quivered, his eyes bulging. Writhing in pain, he gasped and clutched at his throat.

  Faith checked his pockets for weapons and ID. There were none. She got to her feet and wrapped her arms around the girl, thankful to see she was all right. “Where have you been?”

  “It’s a long story, but I came back to help,” Miranda said.

  Faith pulled away, held her injured wrist close to her stomach. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s too dangerous.”

  “Go,” Miranda said, obviously sensing her distress. “I’ll keep an eye on this loser.”

  Faith looked over her shoulder at Rage and then back at Miranda. “I do need to check on my brother,” she said. “Are you sure you can do this?”

  Miranda kept the pistol aimed at the man’s head. “I’ve got this,” she said. “Go do what you have to do.” Miranda gestured at Faith’s hand. “Are you sure you’re OK?”

  “I’ll be fine.” She smiled. “We’ll talk soon.” Faith jogged across the pavement to the VW and leaned into the open passenger door. “You saved my life,” Faith told Rage as water dripped down her face and over her chin and neck.

  “Pretty much,” Rage agreed.

  Faith looked her over. Beneath the knit cap was a thin, pale face and eyes framed in dark shadows.

  “You should have called me,” Rage said. “I hate not being invited to a party.”

  “You’re right. I should have called you. I’m sorry.”

  An explosion erupted. Windows shattered.

  Faith ducked.

  “Where’s Beast?” Rage asked, her voice lined with panic.

  “Last time I saw him he was headed for the front of the building.” Her teeth chattered as the cold seeped into bone. “I’ve got to go. Three children were brought to the warehouse. I have no
idea what’s happened to them. And last I heard, Colton was trapped inside.”

  “Is one of the children Lara?”

  Faith shook her head. She was about to shove off, but something stopped her. She looked back at Rage and said, “Thank you.”

  Rage tilted her chin in a subtle nod.

  “For everything,” Faith said. “I—”

  “I get it,” Rage snapped. “Now go!”

  “Stay safe,” Faith said, repeating her father’s words before she ran off.

  “You, too.”

  Searing pain shot through Faith’s wrist as she ran toward the sound of gunfire. She stayed low, close to the side of the building.

  A voice called out for help.

  In the darkness, Faith saw a woman lying on the ground. She ran that way. It was Victoria Mitchell, bantamweight titleholder from Kirsten’s group. Faith’s stomach turned at the sight of so much blood. Her thoughts were scattered. Nothing made sense. Nobody was to be harmed.

  Faith hooked her arms up and over Victoria’s shoulders and dragged her toward the building. Victoria was wet and heavy. Every muscle strained as Faith pulled her to the side of the warehouse, crying out in pain until she was able to prop her up against the wall, where she’d be out of the worst of the downpour.

  Blood gushed from Victoria’s head, streaks of crimson trickling down the side of her face. Faith yanked off her coat, pulled her T-shirt over her head, then rolled the shirt into a ball and told Victoria to hold it against her wound.

  Faith put her coat back on and zipped it tight. “Help is on its way,” she told Victoria. She didn’t want to leave the woman’s side, but there wasn’t anything more she could do for her. “I’ll be back.”

  She passed more than one motionless body, making her way to the loading dock, where smoke plumed. Gunfire continued to erupt from inside the building, echoing off the walls and sounding like firecrackers on the Fourth of July. The rain wasn’t letting up and neither was the small war going on around her. She kept wiping her eyes, trying to see. She used her right hand to hold her 9mm in front of her as she crept toward the loading dock.

  A smoke grenade exploded close by. She dropped to the ground. After a few seconds, she continued on. Keeping her gun close to her chest, she used the thick wall of smoke as cover. If not for the heavy clip-clop sound of footfalls slapping against pavement, she might not have seen a man running through the smoky haze, heading for the parking lot.