by Alyssa Breck
“You’re a beautiful woman. What makes someone who looks like you become a cop? You like being around men? Women like you are the same as prostitutes. You crave the attention of the stronger sex. The difference between a hooker and you is that you found a way to do it that garners a little more respect and earns you a legal paycheck.”
“Fuck you.”
Black suit snapped his fingers, and the bald dude ran to his side. “Get her out.”
Callie backed up in the cage. She wasn’t a helpless woman. She knew how to fight. Back in the academy, they’d done an exercise called “Fight for Your Life.” In that scenario, she’d been paired with a man who was bigger and stronger than her. The objective was to teach her as a woman how to literally fight for her life against a man. No weapons were allowed. It was just hand-to-hand combat. While men and women received the same training, there was a little extra they provided for females since women faced different challenges.
Women were perfectly capable of being police officers, but at the same time, the academy recognized that women weren’t as strong as men. During physical agility training, they were taught to use their legs to scale a six-foot wall where the men could use their upper body strength to catapult themselves over.
The military had taught her how to kill the enemy with weapons and bombs, but there wasn’t much training in personal self-defense. Otherwise, she might have kicked her commander’s ass.
The thug flipped through a ring of keys and slid one into the lock on her cage. She stepped her feet apart with one slightly in front of the other to keep her balance. The handcuffs were off now, so she had a chance with her hands free.
Callie clenched and unclenched her fists. Her adrenaline started pumping again. Fight or flight. When the dude swung the door open, she dropped the blanket and charged him. The element of surprise gave her the upper hand.
Using the heel of her palm, she hit him in the nose, and blood spilled down and spattered on his white T-shirt. She imagined he was likely seeing stars. He looked stunned as his hands went to his face. Then she kicked him in the nuts as hard as she could, and he dropped to his knees. With him down lower, she raised her foot and kicked him in the head. He fell backward, and his bald head hit the concrete with a thud.
Laughter sounded from the side of her, and she looked over to see black suit guy with his gun aimed at her. “Jesus fucking Christ. That was impressive as hell. But don’t try any of your moves on me. I’ll kill you first.”
Her chest heaved from the exertion of the assault. She hadn’t eaten since that morning, and she was likely dehydrated.
Upon hearing the commotion from inside the warehouse, four men appeared in the doorway and rushed toward them. One guy she could handle on her own, four was a different story. And there was a gun pointed at her head. At this point, she had to decide how bad she wanted to live.
“You’re feisty. I like that. Maybe I’ll keep you for myself. Breaking you would be a good time.” Black suit guy kept his gun on her.
She was surrounded by his other four henchmen as the one on the ground started groaning. One of the men wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her back against his chest in a headlock. His belt buckle was cold steel against the small of her back. She wasn’t short, but he was much taller than her. His bicep bulged against the side of her head, and she reached up to pull on his forearm to relieve some of the pressure on her throat.
The guy she’d flattened walked around in front of her. The blood from his nose had slowed to a drip, and he looked pissed. Regardless of what happened to her now, she felt a smug satisfaction in kicking his ass.
He stepped forward and spit in her face. She cringed and shook her head. Gross. The human mouth was nasty. So many germs in saliva.
Without warning, he slapped her hard across the face. She kicked her legs out toward him, but he stepped back.
“That’s enough, Marco. What did I tell you about hitting her in the face?” black suit guy said.
She dug her nails into the arm of the guy who had her in the headlock. In response, he lifted her off her feet, effectively hanging her and cutting off her airway.
Callie kicked her legs, trying to find purchase beneath her feet to relieve the pressure.
Another goon wheeled a wooden box into the warehouse. The container looked like a shipping box with a hinge and padlock on the top edge. No. She wasn’t getting in that box if that was what they had in mind. She was claustrophobic. So, they’d have to kill her get her in there.
Thoughts of suffocating inside a dark box sent panic skittering up her spine. Goosebumps broke out on her skin, and she still couldn’t breathe.
“Don’t kill her,” black suit guy said. “This one is mine.”
The thug put her back down on her feet but kept his arm around her neck. She gasped and choked.
Black suit guy moved in closer. He sniffed her hair and trailed the cold barrel of his pistol down her cheek. “Oh, I’m going to enjoy you when we get back to Colombia, sweetheart.”
Callie gritted her teeth. “In your dreams.”
He laughed again and leaned in closer to whisper in her ear. “No. In your nightmares.” Reaching into his jacket pocket, he retrieved a syringe filled with a clear fluid.
She tried to pull away from the man holding her still. “No. No. Please. What is that?”
Black suit used his teeth to pull the plastic cap off the needle. “Just a little something to relax you and make your trip more comfortable.”
“No!” she screamed.
He plunged the needle into her neck and depressed the plunger.
“Please, don’t do this.” Her tongue immediately felt thick, and it was difficult to form that last word. What was in the syringe? Black suit guy was smiling in front of her. His form doubled and blurred, and the room began to spin. She clung to the edge of her consciousness until she slipped and spiraled into darkness.
Chapter Nineteen
Hem
The computer program was doing its job. Within a few minutes, a replica of Callie’s phone was on his laptop screen. Hem used the mouse to navigate the mock device.
He went into her settings and clicked on “find my phone.” Hem sat up straighter as the map appeared on the screen. The red dot stopped blinking and settled on a building on a street not too far from where Hem and Hunter had killed Holly’s dad.
“Got it,” he said. Hem pulled his phone out and took a picture of the location.
Hunter came around Hem’s side of the table. “Where is she?”
“Looks like a warehouse in that dead district.” Twenty years ago, that area had been a bustling industrial business district. As technology had advanced and robots were doing more jobs, a lot of the businesses closed. And nobody had a use for the abandoned warehouses anymore. Except for nefarious purposes, that was.
“Who’s here right now?” Hem asked.
“Your brother and Maddox. Plato went home,” Hunter answered. “I’ll go get them.” Hunter disappeared into the clubhouse.
Hem logged off his computer and pushed the screen down to close it. He walked to the back of the clubhouse where Plato had left the contents of the van. Four AR-15s were set on the blue bedspread. Each rifle had three extra loaded magazines. He gathered up the guns and magazines and put them into the duffel bag on the floor.
Kol appeared in the doorway. “What’s up, bro?”
“We need to jam. I think Callie is in trouble, and I need all the backup I can get.”
“Give me two minutes to get dressed.” Kol was dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt, likely ready for bed.
Hunter and Maddox stood in the hallway. “We don’t know what we might be walking into,” Maddox said. “Do you have enough ammo in there?”
“Well, there’s a full magazine in each rifle and twelve more on the side.”
“I’m not doing the math, but that sounds adequate.” Maddox shrugged into his black jacket. They didn’t wear their cuts when they were doing this kind of b
usiness.
Hem and Hunter left their cuts on the bed where the rifles had been. Hem pulled on a black hoodie, and Hunter wore a black T-shirt.
Kol was back in the doorway. “Let’s do this.”
Once they were all in the van, Hunter took the wheel and followed the instructions that Hem gave him to locate the warehouse where Callie’s phone was located. Just because her phone was there didn’t mean she was, though. Hem said a silent prayer that they’d find her safe and sound. But he had to admit that his heart skipped a beat when he saw the address. Mob hits and drug deals happened in abandoned warehouses, and God knew what else.
He passed out the rifles to each of the men except for Hunter since he was driving.
“We’re going in blind here,” Hem said. He pulled in a deep breath and exhaled. “This is a big warehouse, so we’re going to park two building down and go in on foot. Okay?”
“Sounds good,” his brother said. “She’ll be okay, man.”
“I hope so. I keep hoping that maybe she’s just on a stakeout or something, but she would’ve called or texted me by now.”
Maddox squeezed his shoulder. “We’ll handle this. If she’s important to you, she’s important to us. You know that.”
Hem nodded. “I know. I know. Thanks, guys.”
Once in the area, Hunter killed the lights on the van and cruised at low speed. They passed the target warehouse, and Hem peered out the back window of the van.
“There’s a dark-colored sedan parked in front. A Dodge Ram to the left of it. Looks like a couple of box trucks on the side. Lights are on inside. One guy with a rifle out front. He’s looking at his phone. Not doing a good job if he’s their security.”
Hunter pulled the van onto the driveway two building down. He parked on the side farthest away from their target. The men piled out of the van. All of them were dressed in black. Hem handed out the ski masks and gloves, and they each pulled the masks over their heads and slid their hands into the gloves. Their guns weren’t traceable, and they wouldn’t leave any fingerprints behind.
“Everyone got their sidearms too?” Hem asked.
Maddox patted his hip. “Yep. Also have a piece on my ankle.”
“Yeah, I have my pea shooter strapped to my ankle, too,” Hem said. “If this building is set up typically, there is a small front and back door and a garage door on the side like this one.” Hem pointed to the building they were standing beside. “We’ll come around the back. We know for sure they have one guy in front. There may be one in back too. If there is, try not to fire on him. We need to try to take him out quietly to keep the upper hand.”
Hunter lifted the hem of his T-shirt to reveal the large buck knife that he always carried. “I’ll take him out.” Hunter had been in special forces in the Army and probably had the most experience in stealth killing.
Hem nodded. “Good. We’ll cover you. Then we’ll circle around the front and take out the dude there.”
“Are we going to go in through the front or the back?” Kol asked.
“With the cars out front, I think going in through the back would be best. Would do you guys think?” Hem looked to his brothers.
“I agree,” Maddox said. His blond hair spilled out from beneath the ski mask. “They’ve probably been coming and going through the front door, so we’d keep the element of surprise if we go through the back.”
Hunter nodded. “Yep.”
“Any questions before we go in?”
“Nope.” Hunter looked at each member. “Let’s go.”
They moved in a single-file line around the back of the warehouse. Each property was separated by a six-foot cinderblock wall. They easily scaled the walls until they were on the other side of the wall to the warehouse where Callie’s phone was located.
All of the men were tall enough to peer over the wall to the back side of the warehouse. Two men were there smoking cigarettes. One was showing the other something on his phone. Hem recognized him as the dude who’d been out front when they’d passed by.
Hunter unsheathed his knife and put it between his teeth. Hem flipped the open the snap on his own knife. Hunter then held his hand up and moved his index and middle fingers in a circular motion, which was the go sign in the Army.
All four men quietly scaled the wall, and under cover of darkness, Hunter grabbed the man with the phone from behind and slid his blade across the man’s throat. Blood poured from the wound and soaked his white shirt. The man clawed at his neck like maybe he could somehow pull the sliced skin and muscle back together.
At the same time, Hem punched the second man and knocked him out before he could react to what had just happened. He hesitated to kill him. They didn’t know what these guys were doing there. But they looked like cartel. While he was considering his option, Hunter stepped over the man and slit his throat too.
The crew moved around the side of the warehouse to double check the front entrance. There was no one out there now except for a dead white guy lying between the building and the sedan. There was a nice hole in his forehead. His mouth hung open slightly. Something shiny caught Hem’s eye. Shit. There was a Dallas PD badge clipped on his belt. Callie had to be there.
They doubled back to the rear of the building. The door was made of metal, and the doorknob looked standard. No heavy-duty security hardware
Hem reached out and tentatively turned the knob. It was unlocked. He looked at each man with him to make sure that they saw that.
Every one nodded. They pulled the AR-15s slung across their backs and brought the rifles up in front of them. Hunter did the finger sign again, and Hem turned the knob and pulled the door open.
Hunter went in first and did a sweep with his gun. Maddox was next, followed by Kol and then Hem. A tall bald guy with blood all over his shirt lifted a handgun and aimed it at Hunter. Maddox fired a round hit the dude in the chest. The blast knocked him backward off his feet. His pistol hit the ground and slid across the concrete.
The men inside looked like gang members. White oversized T-shirts with beige Dickies. Except one man who wore a black suit. That would make him the man in charge. Probably cartel. Hem hoped they weren’t Mescalito because the club would be in a world of shit if they were.
Hem scanned the area looking for Callie. He stopped short when he saw the row of cages. They were all empty but for one. A dog was inside, cowering in a back corner.
Another man stepped up and started firing at them. Kol was first to fire back. The gangbangers’ handguns were no match for the club’s rifles. Two of them were picked off instantly.
Hem stepped forward with his rifle raised. “Where is she?”
Black suit was standing on the side of a box truck, just out of sight. “Who the fuck are you?”
“That’s not important,” Hem called. “I know she’s here somewhere. Let her go, and we leave now, no more bloodshed.”
A wooden shipping box was on a forklift at the rear of the box truck. Another gangbanger stepped out from behind it and got a shot off.
Maddox’s body jerked, and his hand went to his shoulder. “Shit.”
“You hit, man?” Hunter asked after he fired a shot and killed the other man.
“Yeah. Shoulder. Through-and-through. I’m fine.”
The acoustics were awesome inside the empty warehouse. Every gunshot was way louder than normal. They needed to get moving and get out of there in case anyone else heard the shots.
“You’re outnumbered, asshole,” Hem yelled. “It’s just you and one more left. Tell me where she is, and I won’t kill you.”
“If you kill me, you’ll never find her.”
There was the confirmation that Callie was or had been there, and this motherfucker knew where to find her.
That knowledge bolstered Hem’s drive, and he walked fast toward where the man was hiding behind the truck. Kol flanked him and shot the fourth gangbanger when he stepped out from a small room to their right. His gun bounced on the concrete as he went down.
The guy in the black suit stepped out just as Hem was about to round the back end of the truck.
Hem pointed the rifle at his face. “This is the last time I’m going to ask you nicely. Where the fuck is she?”
The man smiled. “You kill me, and my people will find you, and you’ll wish you’d never been born.”
“I don’t give two shits about your people. Grab his wallet, Hunter. Let’s see who this bastard is that makes him think he’s so important.”
Hunter grabbed the man by the neck and patted him down first. He pulled a black handgun from a shoulder holster and handed it to Kol. Hunter ran his hand down each side of the man’s legs. Nothing at his ankles or waste. Then he reached into his back pocket and pulled out a nice black leather wallet. He flipped it open and looked up at Hem.
“Sergio Restrepo.”
Sergio grinned. “You’re familiar with my name, hmm?”
Hem hid his reaction. This asshole was Colombian cartel. He looked over his shoulder at the dog. That was the same dog that Rubio had adopted at the charity event, or at least it looked like the same dog.
“Your name means nothing to me.”
A thump caught Hem’s attention, and he turned. The sound was coming from the wooden shipping box. “What’s in there?”
Restrepo lifted his chin in defiance. Kol trained his rifle on the man’s chest. “Don’t fucking move.”
Hem circled the wooden box and yanked on the padlock that kept it closed. He heard a groan from inside and looked around for a crowbar or something he could pry the lock off with. Not seeing anything readily available, he pulled out his handgun and stepped to the side to shoot the metal closure panels. The whole unit holding the lock fell off. He lifted the lid. At the bottom of the box was Callie. She was bruised but alive and looked like she was semi-conscious.
Hem was at once relieved and infuriated. He walked back around the side of the box and lifted his handgun. He squeezed the trigger and put a forty caliber slug into Sergio Restrepo’s forehead.
* * *
Hem cradled Callie in the back of the van while Kol administered first aid to Maddox’s gunshot wound.