by Keta Kendric
“They’ve got Ansel pinned down,” he yelled as he dropped a clip and reloaded his weapon. Harsh breaths left his body as he slid up beside the large window that provided a view of the front yard. “Crazy bastard sent me in to take a hostage while he holds them off.”
“Here you go,” I told Scott. I heaved the hostage off my shoulder and tossed him at Scott. There was no way I was leaving my cousin out there to face a fresh group of armed mercenaries alone.
“Marcus, I’m coming out the front. You still out there?”
Static sounded before Marcus’ voice entered my ear. “I got your back, but hurry. They’re dismounting the vehicles.”
I inched up to the front door and prayed that Marcus and Tina would cover my ass with sniper fire. I ran out of the front door, blasting anything and anyone who didn’t look like Ansel. I’d dropped and fed my pistol two more clips by the time I made it to the guard shack that I found Ansel ducking behind. Marcus had saved my hide two or three times over, shooting or pinning down the bastards that aimed to kill me.
“Why the fuck didn’t you retreat so we can torture the motherfucker we have?” I yelled at Ansel over the constant blast of gunfire. A vapory cloud of gun smoke lingered around us as the familiar scent filled my flaring nostrils.
Ansel had a damn smile on his face as he ducked back behind the shack, bullets whizzing past his damn skull. The light from the front of the house gave off enough brightness that we and the mercenaries saw each other clearly enough to know where to aim, despite it being after two in the morning.
“You know me, cousin. I couldn’t leave my man out here. Plus, I plan on killing as many of these motherfuckers as I can.”
The bullets struck the building protecting us with such powerful force that the chips flying from the bricks peppered against me with enough power to break the top layer of skin on my arm. I wanted to scream and yell at Ansel for being so damn crazy and cocky. He and Scott had had a window of opportunity to escape. Was he trying to get himself killed or was he so addicted to killing that he didn’t mind dying while doing it?
The top portion of my body zipped around the bend of the shack as I let off three shots. I counted two black SUV’s parked V-shaped in the road outside the fence. If I had to guess, their men were going to flank Ansel and me on both sides and pin us down. Marcus and Tina were our only hope now for making it out of this shit alive.
Just as I’d predicted, two men came from the east and two from the west of the yard—two from Ansel’s side and two on my side of the shack. Marcus’ sniper rounds kept them down, but there was only so much he could do to keep four men coming at us from different directions when our front was occupied by gunfire also.
“Fuck!” I yelled. I dropped the empty clip from my .45 and drew my nine. I was down to my last two reserve clips of ammo.
“We might have to make a run for it,” Ansel expressed as he leaned around the crumbling bricks at the side of the small building and fired off a three-round burst. A few seconds after him, I let off more shots.
Pow! Pow! Pow!
As if disciplining a child, I continued to yell at Ansel. “Are you out of your fucking mind? Those are real bullets coming at us, in case you haven’t noticed.”
“And this is real body armor we have on. If we can keep a bullet out of our head, we have nothing to worry about. Besides, Marcus is still out there.”
It was official. My cousin was crazier than I was. The worst part about the situation was he was right. If we managed not to get shot in the head, there was a chance for us to make it into the house and into the backyard.
“You got my back, cousin? Marcus? I’ll go first, test the waters,” Ansel said, shooting the entire time he spoke his insane ass words.
This crazy bastard was about to step from behind the shack and into the incoming fire, counting on his unlikely ability to keep a bullet out of his head, and my mind was twisted enough to let him try it.
“I’ve always got your back,” I answered him right after I pushed my back up to the wall, dodging more bullets.
“Got you,” Marcus assured through static in my ear, but I could still understand his words.
Without so much as a three count, Ansel ran his mentally unstable ass into the line of fire. With Marcus and me covering his ass, he’d made it about fifty feet away from the front door before a bullet struck him in the back, knocking him off balance. He hit the ground hard, and I could tell from the lighting at the front of the house that the impact had knocked the wind out of him.
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuuuuuuk!” I yelled as I watched him writhing in pain on the ground. His mouth gaped open as he gripped at his chest, attempting to get air into his lungs. The body armor had luckily stopped the shot from being a fatal one. The shooters knew Ansel was down and not fatally wounded, so why hadn’t they taken the shot that would kill him?
Then it hit me. They wanted to take one of us alive. They wanted to do exactly what we intended to do with the hostage we had. I held my hand out and away from the back of the shack. I let my .45 hang loose in my hand as I tossed it. Then, I followed up that action by doing the same to my nine.
“I’m coming out!” I yelled, hoping they realized I’d surrendered my weapons. I took slow steps from behind the shack with my hands raised. I had one eye on the guys slowly rising from their positions on the east and west side of the yard to get a better look at me. Since it was dark, they likely assumed I didn’t see them, but I saw them, every one of those bastards.
The ones behind the SUV’s remained in place. They had to know by now that we had another man out there coving our asses. With one hand held high, I pointed at Ansel who was still down, so that they’d know I intended to check on him. I sidestepped slowly over to my cousin.
About twenty paces behind us was the front door of the house. Ansel was sitting up by the time I was standing over him.
“You good?” I asked.
“Yeah…no headshots,” he replied breathlessly.
I glanced at the scene in front of and to the left and right side of us. Ansel limped up, with my assistance, to a standing position. We stood back to back. I faced the front gate with Ansel behind me, facing the wide-open front door. Thankfully, his weapon had been knocked out of his hand and was laying a good distance away from him. He was insane enough to pick it up and tempt fate again. I hoped he wasn’t fool enough to pull out one of the backup weapons I knew he had.
“Quite a fucking pickle we are in, isn’t it?” Ansel asked, still struggling to catch his breath.
“They want us alive, Ansel. For once in your hardheaded-ass life, I need you to listen to me.”
I could feel Ansel shaking his stubborn head behind me.
“I know what you’re about to do, Aaron. Let them take us both.”
Although I knew Ansel couldn’t see it, I shook my head. “I need you to take care of Megan. Besides, I know you’re going to come for me if I don’t get myself away from these bastards first.”
“Don’t fucking do this, Aaron,” Ansel insisted. “Don’t you dare try to be a fucking hero.” With guns aimed at us from just about every direction, this was not the time for us to be having an argument.
“When I say go, I need you to fucking listen, and go, like I fucking tell you to!” I yelled with finality as my back stiffened against Ansel’s. Scott and Marcus could also hear me, so they knew as well as Ansel what was about to go down.
Ansel didn’t answer, a sign that he might listen.
“Marcus!” I called.
“I got you,” Marcus confirmed in a scratchy voice in my earpiece.
“Me too,” Scott announced from some place in the darkness.
“Ansel, go!” I yelled.
I didn’t know if I was about to die or not, but I couldn’t allow these men to take both of us.
At the sound of Ansel’s boots beating up the ground behind me, I started shooting. I’d tucked my spare pistol down the front of my pants and was hopefully using it to save my cousin.
The first shot that connected with my body knocked the wind out of me. It hit against my chest so hard that I lost control over of the top half of my body and was snapped backwards.
The second shot had me breathing fire as it knocked me off my feet—another chest shot. I didn’t have the strength to lift my hand to shoot back. Although I struggled against my impaired body to suck in some air, I still had enough awareness to look over my shoulder in time to see Ansel cross the threshold of the front door of the house.
By the time I found enough strength in my arm to lift my pistol again, it was kicked out of my hands by one of the mercenaries. Three stood over me, which meant the rest were likely laying down fire towards Marcus’ area to keep him at bay. When I stared up from my downed position with a mean scowl on my face, one of the mercenaries standing over me reared back and punched me scare in the jaw.
They hadn’t put a bullet in my head because they wanted me alive. I knew better than anyone that I’d likely end up dead within forty-eight hours whether I talked or not. One of the men scratched roughly at my ear. He extracted my earpiece and stomped on it, severing my connection with Ansel, Scott, and Marcus.
I fought the ache in my chest as air started to flow into my burning lungs. The Kevlar had stopped the bullets from getting through, but the painful burn in my chest and my inability to breath properly indicated that I likely had a cracked rib…possibly two.
A loud groan came from deep in my throat as I was yanked up from the ground by two of the men. They moved swiftly with me between them as their third man remained at our backs, protecting them. They half dragged my crumpled body forward, and I hobbled along on weak legs. They marched me past the guard shack, through the gate they’d opened and towards the SUV’s.
The rest of their crew protected the two who had me, but Marcus and Tina, Scott, and even Ansel were out there in the darkness, still making their lives a living hell. Our crew had killed one of the three who had taken on the task of getting me to the vehicle. And I was sure I’d glimpsed another in the bushes, falling face first in the dirt.
One of the two who had me raised the back of the black SUV. They both took a firm hold on me to bend me over and into the vehicle headfirst. My fucking body failed me, and I was unable to gather the strength I needed to fight the assholes forcing me down.
The side of my face kissed the rough carpet of the vehicle, and the cold steel of the gun pressed into the back of my neck registered. A loud fleshy thump sounded before my head exploded in pain, then blackness…
Chapter Seventeen
Ansel
Peering out the living room window, I could see them dragging my cousin towards one of the two SUV’s they’d left on the street.
“Marcus, you got a shot?”
“No!” Marcus yelled in a strained voice. Two of the motherfuckers in the bushes I was shooting at were firing at Marcus, keeping him from doing his job. I needed Tina in my hands so I could wipe those bastards off the face of the earth. Scott was behind me on the other side of the living room, giving them hell as well. None of us had retreated to my truck in the woods.
I aligned the sight of my .45 a hair above where I’d seen the flash of a gun’s muzzle. It was where I estimated one of their heads would be.
I fired, and out he fell, stumbling from the bushes, disoriented. A second thought never crossed my mind as I aimed for his head and pulled the trigger.
I fired on the ones who remained in the yard—who were smart enough to lay down cover fire at Scott, Marcus, and me—keeping us from interfering with the fuckers that were getting away with my cousin. One had even been smart enough to shoot out that big-ass light that was attached to the front of the house, making it difficult for us to find our targets even with the use of night goggles.
The darkness and my distance kept me from firing on the two leading Aaron to the back of that SUV. I couldn’t take the chance of accidentally killing my cousin. “Marcus?” I yelled.
“No shot! No shot!” he yelled back, and I could hear him letting off shot after shot on his end, making Tina sing.
I vaguely made out what I assumed was one of them running back to the passenger’s side of the vehicle. Before I could get a shot off at the vehicle, the tires screeched, its engine roaring into the darkness. The distant scream of sirens alerted me to the fact that the cops were coming. Within minutes, this place was going to be swarming with local cops who’d likely been called by the very mercenaries that were getting away with my cousin.
“Marcus! Scott! Let’s go!” I yelled. Each answered consecutively. They knew me well enough to figure out what we were going to have to do if I was ever going to see my cousin again.
My boots ate at the once shiny floor of the living room and hammered onto the stairs as I rushed up them. I sprang the closet door open and dragged my hostage out. He was going to tell me where they were taking my cousin or he was going to know what it was like in hell.
***
When the three of us stumbled into the safe house with not one, but two hostages, Shark’s eyes grew wide. His eyes remained on the front door, undoubtedly looking for his son.
After we’d secured the hostages in the basement and stepped back into the hall that led to the living room, we were met by my uncle’s deadly gaze. He stood there with his beefy arms folded over his chest. His unblinking cold, blue eyes met mine and may as well have been blow torches.
“They took him. Aaron gave himself up so I could get away.”
Angry rage-filled flesh crinkled on Shark’s face. “You let a bunch of fucking mercenaries take the only fucking son I got left? You better make those motherfuckers you dragged in here tell you where they’re taking my son.”
Aaron and I were admittedly crazy. Our minds were a bit twisted. We had a streak of danger in us that verged on insane, but on the rare occasion my uncle Shark got angry, I knew enough to keep my mouth shut and to do what he said.
The only other time I’d seen a look on my uncle’s face that menacing was when his younger son, my cousin, Ryan, had been killed. My uncle Shark and Aaron had gone on a killing spree so vicious over Ryan that no one knew the exact body count. We had our faults. We had our weaknesses. We were even a bit damaged. But, if someone touched our family, we unleashed a part of ourselves that rained down hell on earth.
I nodded my head towards my uncle. “I promise you I will find Aaron or die trying.”
***
I stood outside Aaron and Megan’s bedroom door for a still and quiet moment before my knuckles connected with the wood. The tap of tiny feet running towards the door registered before Megan sprang it open.
The smile on her beautiful face disappeared the moment she saw my long face. I scratched the side of my chin, not sure how to tell her that Aaron had been taken. Tears had already started to pool in the corner of her eyes.
“Aaron?”
“He’s alive. But…”
The poor girl’s entire body started to shake as she stood there in what must have been one of Aaron’s T-shirts.
“They took him,” I forced out before I had to catch a hold of one of Megan’s arms as she stumbled over to the bed. I sat on the bed next to her.
“I promise you, I’m going to get him back.”
She glanced over at me with tears rolling down her cheeks. She pointed her shaky fingers at her chest. “Give me to them. I’m who they want,” she volunteered in a weak voice.
“Nope, that’s not an option. Aaron made me promise to take care of you and even if he hadn’t, allowing you to turn yourself over to them would never be an option.”
She stared straight ahead for a moment, just sniffling, her small body making the bed bounce. She stood and walked over to the dresser, slid into some pants first, then took out a bra and shirt. She started the process of pulling up the long T-shirt she had on, and something must have reminded her that I was still there. She stopped, walked into the bathroom and closed the door.
My forehead crinkled when she stepped out of
the bathroom fully clothed and with her tennis shoes on. I scanned her from head to toe. Her shirt was askew, and the strings of her shoes were left untied. When she started stuffing clothes into her purple backpack, I stood.
“Megan, what are you doing?”
“Packing,” she answered in a low nonchalant tone without elaborating.
“Packing for what?” I asked as I took a step closer to her.
“If they are out there looking for me, then all I have to do is stop hiding, and they will find me.”
My arms went across my chest.
“I’m not letting you leave this house. We have hostages. One or both are going to tell me where they are keeping Aaron.”
Her big eyes held a determined glint. “Once they tell you where they’re keeping Aaron, you’re going to kill them, right?”
Aaron told me she knew the rules of this life better than she let on, so I gave her a straight answer. “Yes. Those motherfuckers tried to kill us, and their buddies took my cousin.”
“Aaron will be in the same kind of situation. I know that he isn’t going to tell them what they want to know, but it doesn’t matter. They are going to kill him anyway.”
She was right. They were going to kill Aaron no matter what. The only thing we had in our favor was who they were attempting to get the information out of. Aaron wasn’t going to tell them shit no matter how long they tortured him. This would buy us some time to track and find him.
“Will you at least have enough faith in me and let me get him back before you go sacrificing yourself. Even if you traded yourself, it doesn’t mean they’ll release him.”
She plopped down on the bed and released a deep sigh. “This is my fault. I begged Aaron not to do this. I told him to let me go. I ran away from him twice because I didn’t want him to end up hurt or killed because of me.”