by LC Champlin
Click.
He looked over his shoulder. Red Chief—Esau Seir—stepped inside, closing the door behind him. He carried a duffle the size of a gym bag. Torture implements? He ignored Nathan, setting the bag on a second grooming table. Red had shed the plate carrier, leaving only his gray urban-camo fatigues. At first glance, he appeared unarmed.
Esau cleared his throat. “Bring your ass over here.” At the last word, he pointed to a spot between him and the grooming table.
Nathan turned to face him. God, please, give me my people, and I will give You victories.
“Move.” The bearded face remained neutral.
Wary, Nathan walked to the table at the pace of a prisoner on the Green Mile. The chain leash clanked with each step. He halted at the mark, maintaining eye contact with Red.
“Good boy.” Esau smirked. “Now, I bet ya think this is gonna be a rerun of your bonding experience with that over-educated Islamic State fucker and his shit-eating grin.” The mercenary leader unzipped the duffle. “Guess what?” He looked up from unpacking a dictionary-sized camo pouch and smiled. “That ain’t how I roll. I play it straight. That don’t mean I won’t play you, but I tell you the rules first. You can talk, by the way. I won’t bitch slap you or nothin’.”
“The rules?”
“Rule one: I’m fair.”
“Fair.” Kidnapping didn’t fit fair. “Is Sarge under these rules?”
“Him jackin’ you around is fair, long as he don’t go too far.” Red reached into his pocket. “He’s sore about you killing his guys at the house. He ain’t happy about Regis neither. Can’t say as I’m crackin’ a cold one over that myself.”
“Not to look a gift horse, but I take it killing me was off the table?”
Red snorted. “Nothin’s off the table. That’s rule two.”
A key flashed in his hand as he held it up for Nathan to see. “Rule three: you get the freedom you earn. We’re gonna try that one now. Turn around, back to me.”
Nathan hesitated long enough to convey resistance but not long enough to get punched.
“I’m gonna unlock your pretty bracelets. You’re gonna stand there like a sane person. Agreed?”
“Yes.” Definitely a trick.
“Some of the boys out there are betting you’ll do something stupid if I cut ya loose. But you’re no fool if you got away from Cheel B-ass-am alive.”
Click. Right hand free. Click. Left. Nathan reclaimed his wrists as he turned to face the ginger bastard.
The chief stepped back. “Strip.”
“Sorry?” The sick fuck.
“You’re gonna have to if you want dry clothes. Don’t fret yerself; we’re not gonna recreate any scenes from Pulp Fiction.” His lip curled in amusement.
Nausea rose. “They’ll dry soon.”
Sighing, Esau shook his head. “Lemme tell ya rule four: don’t do stupid shit just ’cause you think you’re better than everybody else. I don’t wanna waste my time cuttin’ ’em clothes off ya.” Judging from the steel in Red’s stare, he’d make good on the threat if he had to ask again.
With a grunt, Nathan eased the DHS vest off. Peeling the T-shirt off came next.
“Pants too. Keep yer skivvies. I ain’t the TSA.”
“What do you want?”
Red squinted in disbelief. “You playin’ dumb? I gotta see you ain’t smuggling no weapons in here. I already got the drives and collectible shit from your people. Sarge said you wasn’t carryin’ any goods when he patted ya down, but that you was bleeding. I don’t want you dying just yet. Damn, boy, you got more glue on yer mug than a retard who’s been eatin’ Elmer’s. I gotta see what sort of train wreck I’m dealing with. Git to it!”
Nathan’s fists ached to make Red live up to his name, courtesy of the bastard’s own blood. Instead, he dropped his pants, leaving the shorts.
“See?” Red spread his arms. “That wasn’t so bad! Now, what do we got?” His gaze zigzagged over Nathan. “Shit, what troop of gorillas did you piss off? You got more purple than pink . . . er, tan. You Arab? Indian?”
“Greek. Half.”
“With a name like Serebus, I shoulda guessed.” Red’s attention went to the incision site. “There’s our leak.”
Fantastic. How deep did the new damage go?
“Get yer up ass here.” Red patted the grooming table.
Nathan didn’t move.
“Oh fuck, boy!” Esau yelled, grabbing his captive’s collar and shoving him backward against the table.
Glaring, Nathan maneuvered onto the four-foot-high platform.
Red opened the pouch as he moved to Nathan’s left. “Hold still.” Shhi—! Red ripped the bandage off. “Somebody shank you?”
“Yes.”
“Right between the ribs, too. Only once, though.”
Prodding along the ribs sent sickening pain out in waves. Willpower or not, Nathan flinched away with a hiss.
“Broken,” Red chuckled. “No wonder you upchucked so bad when Sarge gave you them love-taps. And no wonder you didn’t put up a fight. That shit hurts.” He looked over to meet Nathan’s stare. “Naw, that ain’t all of why you cooperated, is it.”
“No.” At last, an opening to negotiate an alliance.
“Smart.”
Nathan gritted his teeth. Sitting here in shorts with a terrorist looking him over like a rancher buying livestock—how humiliating. He should have yelled for the Guard to help, then started from scratch with the Doorway data. Again. And this time from even stricter—considering the stunts he’d pulled recently—government custody.
Pressure over the incision; a new bandage. Time to put feet his back on the floor—
But the chief caught his collar. “Nobody did tell you to stand up.” Blue eyes glinted in the halogen like musket balls.
Kidnapper and kidnapped regarded each other for several heartbeats, taking each other’s measure.
“Nate, boy,” Esau broke the silence as he released the collar, “if yer behavior had asked for different treatment, I’d be beating you with a baseball bat or skinning you like a deer.”
The hairs over Nathan’s body rose, but only half from sitting on a steel table. “I assumed cooperating was something that would improve my odds of good treatment. Also, I was beginning negotiations with Sarge about Birk’s files. I advised that using them is better than selling them.”
“Now you’re talkin’ like a real go-getter Yankee!” he laughed.
“What are you doing out here?”
“Fair question,” Esau decided, stroking his beard. “We’re building a new world on the rubble of the old.” He spread his arms to take in all of central California as he continued, “We’re giving people safety and security. We’re taking back what’s ours. Audemus jura nostra defendere.” He spoke with a Southern drawl, but his knowledge of tactics, strategy, and psychology painted a different story than that of an inbred hick. “Judging from yer look of consternation, I’d wager you’re unfamiliar with the motto of the state of ’Bama. It means, We dare maintain our rights. And you can be damn sure we’ll do just that.”
“I skipped that day in civics.” Nathan sat forward. “It must have been the same day they explained how kidnapping people was a right. Then again, perhaps it was the day they taught how aiding and abetting terrorists who attack the United States isn’t treason.”
Red chuckled. “Got a mouth on ya, huh. I like it when people are honest with me.” He began rummaging in the duffle as he went on, “I’ll learn ya about them pesky moral issues you got later. Right now, you got a choice to make.”
He pulled out a roll of clothes. “You see this?” He turned his right side toward Nathan and pointed at the shoulder, where the American flag advanced forward on other uniforms. It bore a red silhouette of a baphomet head, but without the pentagram common to the Church of Satan’s sigil, on a gray shield. “That’s the Red Devil Goats’ insignia.”
Nathan raised a br
ow. “A baphomet. How creative. I—” Slap! His head snapped left, jaw and cheek stinging.
Reflex shot his right fist out and launched him from the table.
Chapter 63
Tap Out
Ribcage - Demon Hunter
Empty air, then the floor filled it. Nathan’s forearm came up in time to save his teeth from the tile. Pain stabbed his right elbow and shoulder as Red’s knee ground into Nathan’s bicep, crushing the nerve and providing a fulcrum if Red wanted to break the elbow. Red put the rest of his weight into pinning Nathan’s shoulder.
Rolling his shoulder back and jerking his forearm, Nathan tore his arm free. Momentum carried him onto his back. Red reached. Catch it! Bringing his legs around, Nathan clamped them over Red’s chest, elbow between knees. Adrenaline kept pain’s darkness from closing in.
With a growl, Red bent his arm and slung himself about in a “coffee grinder” too quickly for Nathan to get a foot out to stop him. Red’s wrist slipped from Nathan’s grip.
A blur of motion. Then a torpedo of pain tore into his left side. Arms around his neck, a body pinning his arm. Foot on his hip, trapping him. Pain drilled into the side of his neck as the pressure on his trachea increased.
“What now, son?” Red jabbed his thumb deeper into Nathan’s neck and leaned into the fractured ribs. “What was your plan, mm?”
I don’t know came out as a muffled choking. Tears of strangulation blinded him, while pain ripped through his chest.
“I’m thinkin’ you didn’t have one.” The pressure on Nathan’s neck relented a fraction.
“Nn.” No.
“Yep, didn’t think so. Tap out, boy. Now.” Red’s thumb jammed deeper like he wanted to hit Nathan’s spine, while his knee dug into the ribs and wound.
Slap! Surrender resounded. They’ve got you on a leash. Birk’s words mocked him from the rattle of the chain on the floor as Red released his captive.
Every part of Nathan’s body throbbed. The tiles’ cold against his flesh distracted from the hell.
Over him towered Red, a silhouette against the floodlight. “I reckon I shoulda explained rule number . . .” He waved his hand. “Whatever the fuck.” He leaned closer, a sentient shadow. “I thought it was common sense, but maybe a yuppie like you don’t cotton to common things.”
Squinting, Nathan grunted. It should’ve been, Why the fuck did you bitch slap me?
“Ya don’t make mock of the insignia. It represents us. But I don’t fault a man for hitting back. You got balls, boy.” Red straightened, hands on his hips. “Now, get up before I haul yer ass up by your balls and bitch collar.”
Easier said than done. Bracing against the pain, Nathan splinted his chest with both arms and rolled onto his knees. Despite the ropes of pain that wrapped his torso and neck, he forced his spine straight to look the demon in the eye.
“Now, where was we? Duds, that’s where.” Esau picked up the roll of clothes. “Ya got yerself a choice, my naked friend. You can wear the Goat badge, or you can skip it. But you better choose smart.” He pulled the velcroed insignia from its home before dropping the clothes on the grooming table. “You should thank me, y’know?”
“For not killing me?” Whether that proved a bane or a blessing remained in question.
“For not fucking your friends after the beauty you just pulled.”
Nathan swallowed against the pressure in his throat. “I didn’t mean it as an insult to your insignia.”
“Get dressed, boy.” Red began to meander around the room, as if the drawers and cabinets of a dog groomer interested him.
Nathan grabbed the black fatigue pants. “You claim you want to create a veritable Disney World paradise here. But if Istiqaamah is taking over, they’ll institute Sharia Law instead. Perhaps they promised you an independent territory?” Red’s motive sounded like a lie he designed to snow possible allies—or a deranged joke.
His attention on a poster of dog breeds, Red grunted. “Those camel fuckers aren’t in charge, they just act like it.”
Nathan paused in buckling the belt that came with the pants. Istiqaamah—Cheel—not behind the attacks? “Then who is?”
Esau chuckled as he leaned back against the counter. “Assholes who can’t handle the shit storm they stirred up. But don’t worry about them. Just be glad you’re valuable enough to somebody that we didn’t just knife ya and grab yer drives.”
Had Red mentioned them by accident, or as bait to further fuck with Nathan? “I’m glad. It’s equally generous of Them”—who, damn it!—“to let you to be a warlord here.” In this new world, he might just carve out a little piece of hell for himself. People followed whoever yelled the loudest and held a gun.
Next, the shirt. Nathan ran his thumb over the Baphomet’s crimson embroidery. He pressed the patch onto his upper arm. Hail the Red Devil Goats—and his chance of surviving their Black Mass.
Red resumed his tour. “Civilization’s like an engine: lots of parts that all gotta be in the right spots just so.” Red interlaced his fingers. “It’s a machine that makes me a fat profit.” Wearing a smile that stopped short of his steely eyes, he slung the duffle bag over his shoulder. “And y’all are gonna help me. Don’t that sound noble?” He punched Nathan in the shoulder. The shock spread over the injuries.
“Noble doesn’t interest me.” Nathan stepped out of fist range. “Profit, however, is a different story. You wanted Doorway’s data and the collection from Birk’s. From that, I assume your client isn’t Cheel, since he made a copy of the Doorway data Birk gave him.”
“What, you think I go out to Longhorn with ’em and talk shop over a porterhouse? Ha!”
“What’s your buyer paying you?”
“Ya like to jump right into the mud, don’t you?” Expression neutral, Red pulled the handcuffs from his pocket. Freedom made captivity even worse when the chains resumed. “We gotta get to know each other a lil’ better, eager beaver.”
Holding Red’s gaze, Nathan didn’t move. He might have to sit chained in a dog kennel, but he’d keep his composure and by extension his dignity.
“You have time to waste, then,” Nathan stalled.
“Don’t you be worrying yer pretty head about that, son. Now”—Red held the cuffs before Nathan, eyelevel—“don’t make me regret not slappin’ these bastards back on ya. Keep your hot lil’ hands to yourself, and you get to keep the freedom you earned.” A trap, certainly.
“Let’s git.” Red opened the door and motioned Nathan through. “Ladies first.”
“That’s not an insult.” Keeping as much space between him and the mercenary as possible, Nathan stepped into the hall.
“I know.” Red chuckled as he came abreast of Nathan. “Plenty of females I know could whoop yer ass and stomp a mud hole in you.”
The Southern bastard motioned for his captive to take the lead down the murky corridor. Camp lanterns set at intervals on the floor created pools of blue-white light. No mercs guarded the hall.
“Did your buyer tell you why they’re so desperate to get Birk’s files? They believe the information could help them control the cannibals.” Up Red’s greed and create tension in his client / contractor relationship. And increase the pack’s value: “We decrypted some of the research papers on his drives; they do offer a chance.”
“Stop here.”
Nathan halted at a door.
Red eyed him. “How big of a fucktard do you take me for? I can put two and two together and get White Zombie.”
“You must trust your client considerably to believe they won’t throw you to their army of cannibals.”
“I don’t trust nobody.” Cold smile in place, Red opened the door. Beyond lay the kennels. “So, whaddya say, Nate?” Red clapped him on the shoulder. No flinching this time. “You got the Red Goat loud and proud on yer arm, I see. You with us? Getting fucked hard is your other option, and I reckon the only person you want to fuck you is Mrs. Serebus.” Grin.
&nb
sp; Disrespectful motherf—
“Let’s go say howdy to yer buddies, eh?”
Chapter 64
Job Interview
Failure - Breaking Benjamin
“What’s your plan for them?” Nathan asked Red. Everything hinged on the answer.
Esau stepped back, unconcerned. “Plenty of buyers for American hostages just now. So, they can make theyselves useful, or I’ll make ’em profitable more directly. Especially your girl.” His grin turned predatory. “Kinda like how you’d never tell yer momma you was bored.
“I see.” Slavery. If they didn’t do as Red wanted, they would join the nearly 300,000 people in America—citizens and foreigners—who fell victim to human trafficking. Most entered the sex trade. Nathan’s shoulders pulled back; he would fight tooth and claw before he let that fate befall any of his pack.
Mercenaries materialized from the shadows as their chief approached. Red marched Nathan down the aisle between the kennels. First cage—empty. Second cage—occupied. Josephine. Arms crossed, she propped a shoulder against the chain-link wall. The mercenaries had padlocked her leash to the kennel’s gate. Nathan’s muscles tensed as his heart tripped over a beat. Fuckers, treating his people like dogs!
She snapped alert. “Nathan!”
“Shut it!” Red barked, kicking the cage door.
She fell silent but glared nuclear death at him.
Third cage, Albin. He leaned against the back wall, at the end of his leash. He stared with glazed eyes into middle distance. Years ago at a failing zoo in a failing city, Nathan had seen animals with this same expression. He would avenge Red’s cruelty sevenfold.
The attorney’s gaze locked into focus on his employer, its defeat bringing agony to the soul.
On impulse, Nathan stepped toward Albin, but a hand gripping his shoulder stopped him.
In cage four, Mikhail sat in a back corner. Arms wrapped around his legs, chin on his knees, he gazed at a stain on the floor. Resignation covered him like a shroud.