by A. M. Brooks
“Jesus, fuck,” Silas groans through the earpiece.
“Shut it down, Ci,” Matt grits out, and Ciaran’s body visibly shakes off the tension. Everyone in that hallway steps away from each other and weapons are holstered. Nash is holding up his hand at his guards and using the other to wipe a droplet of blood from his lip.
“Guess that pep-talk on the airplane was a waste of breath,” I say into my mic. The only indication I get from Ci that he heard me was the smirk he gives Nash, who is still staring daggers at Ciaran before inviting them all inside.
Once they’re in the apartment, all we can do is wait. It’s the longest, almost four hours, of life. My left arm is numb from being braced on it, and my stomach rumbles against the concrete slab I’m resting on. Still, I don’t break protocol, and wait them out. Jason has done a check every hour, so we know things are alright in there. Another twenty minutes pass before Ci and Jason leave the building. I keep a watch on the apartment. “Go Reed,” I hear Matt say into his mic and I wait for the beeping noise.
“They’re online.” Reed’s voice answers a minute later, followed by a series of beeps.
A few more minutes pass before Ciaran drops next to me. “Anything?”
I shake my head. “No movement from outside to the south, which is where his mom would travel from. There have been no outgoing calls or texts of concern on Reed’s end. I’d say Nash is serious about helping us.”
Ciaran groans. “Great. Can’t believe we have to work with this douche.”
“Well, at least you got your point across.” I nod toward Ci’s bloody knuckles. His brow rises and he shrugs.
“At least no knives were involved this time.” Silas’ voice filters through my earpiece and I chuckle out loud. “Zero activity to the north or west, where the supposed location of The Establishment is,” Silas clips off.
“Reed is up and running, we can disengage and set-up,” Matt instructs. Nodding, I push onto my hands and feet, getting up slowly.
Ciaran helps me pack up my equipment and we join the others in the stairwell. Jason motions for us to follow him to the rooms that were rented for us. Even though Reed has eyes and ears on Nash, we wanted to be close by in case he flips on us.
“What’s the plan?” I ask, once we make sure our room isn’t bugged.
“Nash has been working to convince his mom that he wants to be part of The Establishment. Apparently, his grandpa wants him to prove his loyalty. Sick fuck,” Ciaran answers, his lips twisted in a sneer.
“There’s an auction tonight,” Jason continues, “we were too late to stop the latest shipment, but we can save them at the auction once we take out Donald and Mrs. Aimsworth.”
“And Nash is just okay with us taking out his mom?” Silas asks, looking as doubtful as I feel.
Jason’s eyes slide to Ciaran and back. “I think if it means keeping Saylor safe, Nash is willing to do anything. He is not okay with what his family is doing. He also sees the possibility of his reputation and family legacy being destroyed.”
Ciaran’s eye twitches at the mention of Saylor’s name, but he holds it together. He cracks his neck side to side. “Right now, I don’t care what his reasoning is. We have a way in and we know when the auction is. We need all hands on deck to create a plan.”
“I agree.” I fold my arms across my chest. “No one makes it out of that building alive tonight, except the girls being auctioned.”
Everyone nods in agreement. My inner darkness is ready to come out to play, pushing any form of a conscience I have left into the back recesses of my mind. It’s Rogue time.
“Why the masks, though?” I ask, turning to Nash, hoping to annoy the shit out of him. He glances at me, giving side-eye, totally judging.
“Anonymity,” he answers, his voice annoyed. I grin.
“Isn’t that a little pretentious when they’re all colleagues anyway? They all know who’s going to be here.”
Nash shrugs. “If there is a raid, they have the masks as protection, so the media can’t pick out their faces. Their paid police officers won’t remove the masks until they are away from the media. It’s sick and planned out that way.”
“And your mom just doesn’t care that you’re bringing a friend tonight to this top-secret sex party?” I inquire again.
Nash turns to look at me, assessing the best way to answer my question. Eventually, he shrugs. “Any chance for them to grow their numbers and take in money, she is all for.”
He glances away, but not before I catch a glimpse of the hurt and betrayal in his eyes. Knowing your parents are part of an organization such as this can’t be easy. Standing up to them takes even more guts than most people in this position would have. I keep waiting for Nash to ask Matt to hide him when this is all over, but he hasn’t yet. Not knowing how he plans to handle the fallout has my insides twisted. Ciaran called dibs on beating it out of him if he hasn’t acted before we leave though.
“We’re in,” Ciaran’s voice suddenly breaks through my earpiece, “if you thought your mask was bad, the service people have to wear straight-up bags with holes cut out for eyes.”
I turn to Nash, my brow raised. He shakes his head, his lips pulling into a frown. “The staff are extremely vetted. The whole night runs on secrets and discretion. Most of the staff working has a debt to be paid somewhere.”
I swallow back my disgust and try to regain my focus. At least everyone else is inside and already in their positions. I’m pissed I have to pretend to be a guest of Nash’s and I can only imagine how he feels having to pretend to be excited to attend this party for his family. We’re all lying tonight and the price we’ll pay if caught is death. Nash already gave me a rundown of the etiquette and rules for the night, including the chamber in the basement where they take the rule breakers. It all seems pretty simple. Don’t stare at others, don’t use names, and do not disclose who you are or what you do. Money talks here and that is it.
“Can we get going? My skin is crawling already,” I huff into the mic.
“We’re set,” Matt clips back. I nod to Nash and he opens the door to the limo.
We step out and I feel like we should be in Hollywood at a movie premiere, only instead of a red carpet, it’s black. People, dressed to impress in designer suits and dresses, stop to chat before swarming inside. It takes everything in me not to let my easygoing expression slide when I see the excitement on some of the faces, of both men and women, in the crowd. Nash leads the way, silently shaking the hands that are offered to him, and giving a polite smile here and there. He’s good at acting, I’ll give him that.
I keep quiet and nod politely when required, following Nash’s lead through everything. No one gives me a second look or stops to ask any questions. Eventually, we make it in the doors and down to the main floor. My eyes widen a fraction when I see what Ciaran had been describing. The servers are all dressed in matching black on black tuxes, but their heads are entirely covered. Almost looks like someone took a pillowcase, an expensive one, and cut two slits out for eyes before throwing it over the servers’ heads. The whole scene is disturbing.
“The doors on your four o’clock are where the merchandise is kept,” Nash tells me under his breath. I discreetly glance at the two wooden doors that are currently shut and heavily guarded. “The dungeon is in the basement. You can only get there through the kitchen.” I manage to get a picture of it and send it to Reed, so he has a better idea of the layout and what we’ll be dealing with later.
I manage to pick out Silas and Ciaran, mostly because they tower over everyone else, then I find where Matt and Jason are stationed in the room. The Establishment has managed to sneak around us for the past few years, without being detected, yet they couldn’t stop us from infiltrating their den in one evening. Either they are just too greedy to care or they aren’t as careful as we thought. Nash leads me around the room, pretending that we are infatuated with all aspects of what these people are offering, until we have all the intel we need for Reed to bu
ild us a diagram of where to stash our explosives.
It only takes an hour, and Reed has the information and directions on where to plant the devices, and a tip has been made to the only local news station that is not deep in the pockets of everyone in attendance tonight.
The bidding will start in five minutes. The electronic voice warns everyone over the loudspeaker, which means we have five minutes to make this rescue happen and get everyone out. I see Matt, Jason, Silas and Ciaran file through the hidden door behind a wall of curtains. According to Reed, that door leads to a tunnel and stairs that will bring them upstairs to where the targets are being hidden. That room is guarded by two men and the back entrance, where we will rescue them, is also heavily guarded by eight more guards.
“Got them.” I hear Matt’s strained voice come through the earpiece, and I nod to Nash, letting him know we’re ready for the next phase of the plan. All emotion and fake interest slide off Nash’s face and his eyes lock on his mom from across the room.
We approach Mrs. Aimsworth, right as she is given money from one of the attending guests. I manage to get a picture of the exchange and send it along to the parties that will need it for future charges. “Mother,” Nash says, once we’re close enough. She turns to him smiling, clearly not worried that he could identify her so easily in front of people. I watch as he leans in and gives her a hesitant peck on her cheek. Mrs. Aimsworth doesn’t seem to notice the change in her son’s demeanor and keeps asking him questions about his experience tonight so far.
“Great, Mom,” Nash settles her down, “where’s Grandpa though?”
I open my mic, so everyone can hear her answer. “Oh, he’s in his office. He’ll be along once the bidding starts. He likes to make sure everyone has paid the entrance fee before starting.”
I swallow my disgust and mentally piece together where he is in the building. “He’s on the main level. The set of doors on your left where you entered the building.” Reed’s voice floats in my ear.
“He needs to know something about one of the guests.” Nash leans in to his mom, and I do my best to pretend that I’m ignoring them. “I need to speak to him.” Panic briefly flares on Mrs. Aimsworth’s face, then is easily replaced with a sickeningly sweet smile.
“Of course, dear.” She wraps her arm through his and looks at me expectantly.
“I’ll wait for you to get back.” I pretend to know as little as possible and lift the champagne glass in my hand in a mock salute. Nash and his mom walk away and I give them a few seconds head start before I follow.
I manage to catch up with them out in the hallway. Mrs. Aimsworth must be dense because she didn’t even notice that her security for the event was missing. Before she can knock, I slide up behind her and settle my gun against her back. She immediately freezes, her eyes widening a fraction. “Go ahead and knock,” I whisper low enough for only her to hear. She glances at Nash and pales when she sees he is standing on his own, without a deadly weapon against him. Her lips part, but he shakes his head.
Mrs. Aimsworth lifts her hand, and after a brief pause of hesitancy, she knocks. There is movement behind the door, then one of the guards cracks it open. When he sees who it is, the door is pushed open wider. Ciaran and Silas use that time to swoop in and take out the guard. Mrs. Aimsworth screams in surprise, and I quickly wrap my free hand around her mouth, pushing her farther into the room, following Si and Ci, who are fighting with the next set of guards. Nash moves past me and pushes his way through the next set of doors, where Donald is sitting behind a massive oak desk. “Nash,” the man starts to say, but immediately cuts off when he sees me holding on to Mrs. Aimsworth.
Nash pulls his own gun from the back of his dress pants and aims at the old man. “Up.”
Donald’s hands rise and he slowly gets up from his chair. “Son, what is this all about? Do you need money? Surely we can talk about this calmly.”
I laugh, unable to hold it in anymore. These pretentious, rich pricks, stealing and hurting innocent people, crack me up when they try to play all nice and assume money changes everything. “You just don’t get it yet do you, Red?”
Donald’s brow rises to his receding hairline. I watch as surprise then anger filters over his features. His face turns from red to almost purple. “Where’s the rest of them, boy?” the man spits.
On cue, Matt and Jason saunter into the room, both looking disheveled, grimy and spattered in blood. Pride swells in my chest, knowing they completed their task if they look that way and are still moving about freely. The innocent lives are saved.
“Expecting me?” Matt asks, his eyes pinning Donald with a disgusted look.
“You!” Donald’s voice shrieks in the room. “You and your family--”
“Please know, however you choose to finish that sentence, your operation here is over. The story is already leaked, photos were taken of the money exchange and all your product has been rescued by me and my family,” Matt warns him. “You’re done. This operation and attack on Rogue are over.”
Donald scoffs. “You really think I’d make it that easy? I’ve already planted the seeds within your pathetic organization. You think you’re safe? That they’re safe?”
Matt holds up a hand. “I’m well aware of your reach, Red. I will continue to vet my employees and deal with that on my own. There are no second chances under our command.”
Donald pales and his words stutter. “What do you want? Names? Money?”
Jason snickers, his eyes turning deadly. “You picked the wrong family to mess with. After tonight, The Establishment, everything you built, will be destroyed. Your legacy, the sick and twisted lessons your father taught you, will no longer exist.”
“My organization may fall but you forget, I already have more product on the way. My suppliers will continue to do what they do best, and you’ll never find them without me,” Donald threatens. My gut pinches because we know he’s right. It was a risk we were willing to take. Silas moves over to the desk and grabs the laptop off of it, sliding a USB into the side.
“Password?”
“Go to hell,” Donald sneers at him.
Silas glances at Matt before turning his attention back to Donald. Si’s hand unholsters his weapon and he aims it right at Donald’s face. “Password.”
Donald spits on the ground at Silas’ feet, before leaning his head into the barrel of the gun. Mrs. Aimsworth struggles in my hold; hot tears flow down her cheeks and onto my hand. Acting on instinct, I throw her to the ground. Her sobbing becomes more audible, gaining Donald’s attention like I had hoped. The barrel of my gun pushes against the back of her head.
“Don, please,” she begs, “Please.”
His eyes widen when he looks at her, before his eyes move away. “Four, one, seven, one, nine, eight, two.”
April 17, 1982. Mrs. Aimsworth’s birthday. Should have known. Silas shakes his head in disgust, obviously putting together the same information I did. Nash pales slightly, his hands shaking visibly. We wait for Silas’ USB to be done, before he moves away.
“Any last questions?” Matt asks Nash.
The poor guy looks destroyed, but he shakes his head calmly, knowing what comes next. There is no way we can leave them alive. They are too connected. They have cops, judges, and attorneys in their pockets, who we don’t know about yet, and we can’t risk them getting out. To me, everyone here tonight is evil for participating in the sales. I have no doubt in my mind if given a second chance, they would do the same things again. None of them deserve to live. I meet Matt’s gaze and he gives me a nod. My finger taps the trigger and Mrs. Aimsworth slumps forward, the bullet clean through. I raise my gun and tap again, before Donald is even aware it’s happening. Blood sprays, but it’s a clean shot to his forehead.
“Two minutes.” Reed warns us.
Jason ushers us out of the room and we manage to escape outside, running a safe distance away from the building. Once my shoes hit the gravel across the road, the entire building erupts in a ball of
fire. We all turn to watch as the building, that was hell to so many innocent lives, explodes and crumbles.
“What now?” Matt turns to Nash, who is wearing a blank expression.
Nash’s eyes flick to each of us and his shoulders roll back. “I’m not asking to be in your little group if that’s what you think.”
Ciaran immediately tenses, his hands balling into fists. Nash notices and a smirk crosses his lips.
“Don’t worry about New York,” Nash tells Matt, “I got it under control. And if I need your services, you’ll be the first to know.”
Matt’s brow rises. “Are we going to be competition or allies?”
“I’m hoping for the latter,” Nash responds. “Leave my city to me.”
It’s a challenge and a request at the same time, and I give the guy kudos for showing no fear. It still makes me uneasy, though. New York is not a huge territory for us, but we do have a few safe houses on the outskirts of the state, as well as the Saffrans inside the city.
“What about the Saffrans?”
Nash tilts his head in my direction. “Ollie will make them aware. They can still operate under your business as long as it doesn’t interfere in ours.”
Well, fuck me. Now I have to explain this to Oaklynn and her parents. Forget it. I’m throwing Ollie under the bus; he can vouch for himself in this cause. I open my mic, so Nash and Ollie’s plan is captured on recording.
Matt and Jason shake Nash’s hand. Nash leaves right after, choosing to ignore Silas, Ciaran and myself. I grunt. “Think he knows he has to play nice with us at some point in the future?”
“I think he’s banking on his organization being up and running before ours, so he can seem superior.” Silas thinks out loud.