Keeping You: KJ Elite Inc.

by Kracek, L. K.

Dad poked his head out of the cockpit and announced that we had about ten minutes til arrival.

  “Alright, let’s go over the plan one more time before we touch down and it’s go, go, go.” Mike said, sitting up straight.

  Candace stood behind him, looking over his shoulder at the table he was using. I noticed how his breath caught or his eyes fluttered shut momentarily whenever her breasts brushed against his back. Oh, Luke was so on point.

  Normally, I’d tear into them both and blow their spot up, but I’m feeling generous and we really should go over this again. There would be no take backs or do over’s.

  The rest of the team’s gathered around the table and listened.

  “Our sources are tracking him in the air still, but we’re going straight to the docks. Giving him the option to hop back on the plane and take off is too risky. We don’t own the airspace and that won’t end well. Dad’s guys have already compromised the guys on Marcus’s payroll down at the docks and have sent them on their way with a little something extra to get gone. His guys are filling the positions as well as some of our individual contacts. I think we’ve all called in a few favors today and we’re all counting on it to make the difference. There will only be one ship docked so his escape routes are severely limited. The people have already been removed from the cargo containers and moved to a safe location. They are being taken care of by a carefully selected staff at University of Miami Medical Center.”

  “And they’re isolated?” Baby asked.

  “Correct.”

  She nodded and he pulled open the map more focused on the Miami-Dade docks.

  “We’ve got the Coast Guard on alert as well as the Miami Police Department but pockets run deep so let’s cover our own asses. Teams are as they’ve always been. When we land, I’ll call and check on HQ with Luke. Is everyone strapped up?”

  Everyone answered affirmatively.

  Mike pointed to two points on the map surrounding the dock. “Baby you’re here and Candace, here. You’ve got full view and are out of the line of sight if he’s got his own. I don’t imagine he will, he’s more of a henchmen in tow kind of guy, but just in case. Scope it out. Do what you do. We flank him once he closes in on the cargo containers.”

  Dad stepped out and looked over the map. “Do not underestimate him, yall. He will be strapped and he will have goons planted no matter how hard we try. They’re like weeds; we take out five, twenty grow in their place. He hasn’t eluded this long by being stupid. Don’t forget that he burned a whole building of people alive just to evade arrest.”

  Paulie and I exchanged a heated look, an understanding.

  “Take a seat so I can land and we’ll go get this rat bastard.”

  Our battle cries rent the air as we settled into our seats.

  Now, the mental prep began. You’ve got to get in your own head. Going into battle isn’t something you’re prepared for, but you can damn sure get yourself on the path to acceptance and readiness to fight the threat with everything you’ve got. War isn’t pretty, but it’s a necessary evil and there must always be ones like us who are willing to stand up and fight back.

  Today, we will eliminate an enemy that American’s know exists, but don’t know anything about. Tonight, families will sit down to eat supper with their loved ones, all snuggled up in their homes, safe for another night because we sacrificed ourselves and our suppers with our families to keep them blissfully ignorant and breathing.

  Arriving to your playing field, if you will, is something that has to be done with precision and timing. If you roll up in five black SUV’s, strapped to the teeth and then some, you may as well stand in the middle of it with all your weapons laid down before you. My team arrives first and we deliver Baby to her location, watching one another’s back. This isn’t about making sure she is where she’s supposed to be because she’s an idiot; this is about getting Baby where she’s supposed to be because we watch each other’s back and have to make sure she, our M.V.P. is locked, cocked, and ready to rock when all hell breaks loose. A sniper is the most important person on your team because when your back is against the wall and you’re pinned down, they’re going to start pickin’ the enemy off like flies, giving you a fighting chance to escape or push back. Baby is my number one on the battlefield.

  We’ve all got clear ear pieces to communicate with one another but will stick with sign language if we can avoid talking. Everyone is in place. The air gets a little bit cooler and goosebumps dance down my arms. I live for this moment, for this feeling. The adrenaline is kick started in your veins like a glow stick when you pop it and shake, spreading the light all over. Anyone who has ever served will tell you, it’s glorious and terrifying. That moment when the reality of what you’re doing is upon you and your chest swells, your hands tremble, your eyesight becomes perfectly zeroed in on the target while your senses seem to magnify times one hundred. You can hear a car start halfway across town and the sounds of nature you’ve never known to exist otherwise, because you are so focused on survival and winning the war. At all costs.

  Could this be my last day? The answer doesn’t matter, because you’re so focused on what the question means. If it means I make a difference on the side of good, then it doesn’t matter.

  A sleek black Rolls Royce Phantom with extended wheelbase and black tinted windows rolls up to the dock, venturing further in than the typical visitor. Or employee.

  Luke chirps in our ears that our guest of honor has arrived. The message is sent out to everyone but he must only tell Tommy and I, that Jamie and Taylor have accosted him upon false promises of coffee before barricading themselves in his lair. Message received: they are watching our go-pro’s. It wouldn’t mean much to shut mine off now since they can see everyone’s. This is not how I wanted to introduce Jamie to what we do, but she’s already seen some of it when we rescued her from Dillon.

  I motion to my team to hold tight in their positions and keep watch. Baby mics me to say she has visual and clean shot, “Awaiting word.”

  She doesn’t need me to tell her to hold.

  Walking in front of, beside and behind Marcus – Roberto – are two guys per direction, 6 total.

  It doesn’t do much good if you have no body armor, moron.

  I just need him to move in closer, about twenty feet. Dad has informed us that the FBI wants him in alive.

  Too bad I don’t give a shit.

  I promised Jamie he wasn’t walking away from this and if I’m taken in for making the call, so be it. But this ends today.

  The thing about guys like Marcus is, they never truly stop or go away. They have to be exterminated so they cannot spread their diseases or groom any other pests.

  “Lovely day, gentlemen. Wouldn’t you say? Ah, I just love the smell of salt water on the breeze.” Marcus’s voice is deep and rough but cheerful.

  Yuck it up, bitch.

  “Leroy, Pete, please wait back at the car. I think four is more than enough to look into a box.”

  His side thugs turn and make haste back to the Rolls Royce.

  “John, please fetch the Dock Foreman for me.”

  We’re here, watching their every move and they’ve no idea. Exactly how it’s supposed to be.

  I signal for Baby to take out the two by the car and round up dear old John.

  In ten seconds time, she tells me she’s done it. Obviously, someone was trigger happy and hit the two without needing me to tell her. So long as she waits on Marcus, I have no issues with that. Baby knows what needs to be done.

  Movement at my one o clock pulls my attention. John does not return with the Dock Foreman but someone shows up alright.

  Dear old dad. I’m just not used to him working in this capacity.

  Curses hit my ear and Luke shuts them up, frantic to hear Dad’s side of the conversation.

  “How can I help you, today?” Dad, now donning a pair of long sleeve coveralls and bushy grey beard, shakes his hand cheerily.

  “What happened to Bob?” Ma
rcus’s demeanor changed, as one would expect.

  “Bob had an unfortunate accident. Name’s Merle.”

  “I’ve got some containers here waiting for my approval before they’re shipped. Is the shipping manager available? He’s familiar with myself and my business here, today.”

  “Be honest with you sir, there was some big hoopla about illegal activity running through this dock here, and most of the staff has just been cleansed and replaced. Owner couldn’t afford the fines and legal fees he’d be facing if he had kept them all on. Very serious business dealings they were said to be in. I would be happy to help you with anything I can while you’re here. I’m a fast learner and if you’re afraid for the integrity of your contents, I can assure you they will be treated with the upmost care.”

  Dad didn’t flinch, hesitate or stutter. His accent was gone and he was pretty damn convincing.

  When he mentioned how there were rumored illegal activities moving through the dock, Marcus cursed and ran a nervous hand through his hair, glancing around.

  “Just unlock my containers and give me some privacy.” He spat angrily.

  “Yes sir.” Dad gave a weak salute and checked his clipboard.

  “Hurry it up, Merle,” He said the name with distaste. “I’ve got business to attend to and a plane to catch.”

  “Oh, is that so, now? Where ya headed? Vacation? I tell you, I haven’t been on vacation in nearly twenty years.”

  “Yeah, great. I’m going to Tennessee to bring my daughter home. Little bitch can’t seem to listen and thinks she can run off on her own.” Marcus’s temper was getting the best of him, only making my job that much easier. Not like I was even sort of close to being borderline.

  “Oh, yeah? I’ve got two daughters, myself. Real pretty little things. Don’t know where they got the looks – sure doesn’t look like me or the Mrs.!” He joked, laughing obnoxiously. “Yeah, they’re a handful alright. But they make it all worth it in the end.”

  “Oh, she sure will.”

  “Right this way, Mr…” Dad pretended to be inspecting the paperwork for his name.

  “Just Roberto.”

  Dad led them between some containers, weaving in and out of the path between different containers.

  “Lost visual.” Baby said.

  “I’ve got sights.” Candace answered.

  Mike’s team was now closest to them. I began moving my team around when the unmistakable pop of a glock sent me running toward the noise.

  “Dad’s hit. I repeat, dad’s hit. Marcus slipped away, find him.” Mike told us all.

  “Candace, still have visual?” Peyton asked.

  “No. He’s bobbing and weaving. Headed West.”

  West, got it. I took off running like a freight train when another pop, then the crack of bone as his bullet collided with my left side collar bone.

  Fuck!

  The pain is nothing right now, it’s the way he managed to stay out of Candace and Baby’s line of sight while he took his time and lined up his shot. I didn’t even see him or it coming.

  The shot wasn’t enough to slow me down though. I’m a righty so all is well.

  “Noah!” Paulie yells behind me.

  “I’m fine, keep moving. Get him.”

  Jamie would have heard the shots, but not seen the actual damage done. Unless my team could see it behind us.

  “Hey, at least he ain’t usin’ cop killers.” I joke, fighting the pain and frustration.

  “Har. Har.” Matt said over the mic. “I’d like to go on record that if I get shot again this time, I’m not playing with you guys anymore.”

  “Bitch.”

  “Woosy!”

  “Pussy.”

  “Faggot!”

  A bunch of names were yelled over the feed as everyone gave him a hard time.

  “Can we focus on taking this fucker out before we start celebrating?” Peyton barked sounding winded.

  “Southwest corner, I’ve got him but not a kill shot.” Candace shouts in our ears.

  She’s running a .50 cal with suppressor when she takes the shot.

  “Got him in the arm, 200 points. Eye for an eye, or so I tried.”

  “Thanks, Candy.” I blew her a kiss over the line and ran towards the southwestern corner.

  Reverting back to my training, I clear the corners and hallways created by shipping containers stacked on and between other shipping containers.

  I miss the small gap that Marcus is hiding in until he sweeps out and knocks my leg out from under me. My prosthetic.

  I can hear Jamie screaming behind Luke when he mutes the line.

  “Turn off my go-pro, Luke.”

  On my ass, I look up at Marcus who has his glock extended out, cocked sideways like a sloppy gangster.

  “Who the fuck are you? What do you want?” He asked, his arm trembling.

  At least Candace managed to get him in his predominant arm. He’d have shit luck at hitting me, even at this close proximity. The gun is growing too heavy for him and he’s losing blood.

  “Aw, come on, don’t be like that daddy-in-law.” I smiled at him, my menacing, evil grin.

  “I’m Jamie’s husband and you are not her father. Just make it easy on everyone and shoot yourself in the head.”

  “You talk big for someone who’s down on his knees. Well, knee.”

  “Actually, I’m on my ass. I think you’d recognize the position since it’s how you sit while other’s do your dirty work, you coward.”

  Thanking God and Luke for being a pain in my ass and forcing me to rehab, I pick myself up and focus on finding my balance. Let me be clear, fighting on one leg is basically ninja status – hard as hell, but not impossible. Impressive, but not impossible. I’ve trained for this but it always comes down to the moment.

  “What do you think you’re gonna do, cripple?”

  “I’m gonna let Jamie see me kick your ass like you did to her and then I’m gonna empty my magazine in your brain.

  I reach to my left hip where I conveniently have my 21’ expandable baton. If he takes one more step towards me, it goes across his wound and then his knees.

  One of Marcus’s guards enters my periphery to the left a second before I realize Marcus won’t get to feel the wrath of my new toy.

  “Just like I said, Marcus – lettin’ someone else do your dirty work. Sit tight, I’ll get with you in a minute.”

  The new guy steps forward, fakes left, hits right and swings out at my ribs. Instead of connecting with my side, I bring the butt of my baton down on his wrist bone effectively breaking his wrist. I follow up with a hook to his chin before flinging the baton down to extend and give him a little tap right in the holy land. A shot is fired, splattering his blood across my cheek.

  “Headshot, 1000 points.” Baby cheered.

  “Damn.” Candace says.

  “My girl!”

  Marcus looks a little worried, hovering between containers. His arm is dropped and his gun dangles from his fingertips.

  “You really should train as if you were ambidextrous.”

  “Fuck yourself.”

  “Maybe later.”

  I can’t really walk to him without making myself too vulnerable, basically because walking means hopping. My prosthetic sits a foot behind him.

  “Alright. If my count is correct, that leaves one. Olly olly oxen free, motherfucker!”

  They always say, “be careful what you wish for,” and really, we should all listen to that.

  Baby and Luke holler warnings a minute too late when overly large arms wrap around my chest and squeeze.

  “What do you want me to do with him, boss?” The voice is high-pitched but dull.

  “Oh, man. You sound just as dumb as you look. It’s the steroids, right?” He squeezes tighter making my vision swim. There are three teams trained to kill the enemy, in the very near vicinity and two snipers who just need him to take one step in either direction; I’m not worried about the ending.

  Until Marc
us lifts his injured arm and pops off a round in my each of my thighs. No matter how fucking bad it hurts, I won’t give him the satisfaction of showing it.

  “How did you know where I was? Never mind. Bryant. I should have known that Boy Scout wasn’t loyal.”

  Ha! Bryant? Boy Scout? Ha! Who has he been working with?

  “Oh, no, he was totally loyal. He was loyal to taking you down.” Dad said, coming up slowly behind Marcus.

  “Get any closer and I put a crater in your son’s face, Nolan.”

  Dad’s step faltered.

  “You think I didn’t do my homework, is that right? I know all about you and that succulent wife of yours. You’ve got more secrets than a confessional.”

  Dad tossed his head back and laughed.

  “That’s a good one. I’ll have to tell the guys at the office. Seriously though, you’re better off just surrendering considering we have you completely surrounded. There’s no way out this time, Marcus.”

  Marcus was at a loss for words. He flung his hand around a few times telling the others showing up to stay back and not think about it. Which is obviously a very stupid thing to say when you’re outmanned.

  About twelve shots pop off and the arms around me have disappeared. Paulie replaces them, throwing my arm over his shoulders and taking my weight.

  I’m tired of playing tea party now.

  Dad tosses my prosthetic this way, making Marcus flinch as it sails over his head. He lets off a shot in my direction and turns to take a shot at dad, leaving his whole rear opened.

  Doing a mental inventory of my pain, I can tell I haven’t been shot anywhere else. Once I’ve finished, I register another voice calling out to Paulie who is now laying at my feet – foot.

  Blood is pouring from his head, too much to be able to tell where exactly he was hit, from up here. Matt took up my other side as GQ and Tommy started removing Paulie from the equation.

  When you’re beyond miracles, you lose your head and start making rash decisions, jerky movements, half-baked plans come to life and you sign your own death certificate.

  My focus moves back to my piece.

  “Thank you, Jesus. Mike, get my leg.”

  I don’t need to give him detailed instructions, he can figure it out on his own.