“Don’t you fucking disobey an order, Andrews. I’m telling you to wait for me and you’ll wait.”
“You better drive fast.” I hang up, not waiting for his outburst that was sure to follow.
I don’t know how I lucked out. Maybe it’s God or some other powers that be, but traffic is almost nonexistent and that’s unheard of in Los Angeles. I get to the shipping port within ten minutes of squealing my tires out of the hotel parking lot.
I silence my phone before lifting my ass to shove it down into my back pocket. Then I reach behind the passenger seat, grabbing my thigh holster with the Kimber 1911 secured along with the two extra magazines. My .380 is already strapped to my chest, the holster secured to the middle of my bra. Getting out of my car, I shove the spare magazines into the opposite back pocket that my phone is in.
I have no idea what I’m walking into. It’s better to be over-prepared than run out of ammo and get myself killed.
21
Unlike Drago’s shipping warehouse that only has one other business on the same stretch as his, Port 124 is surrounded by five other companies with three on the entrance side and two past Nelson Imports.
Like most businesses here, there is at least one building with bay doors on the front for loading and bay doors on the back for unloading the ships. Bigger companies are spaced out with freight containers. The ones on this stretch, same as Drago’s, are smaller with only minimal space. Although there are freight containers, they are all small, creating limited spots to hide. Luckily for me, the business next to Nelson’s is bustling today. Hopefully, I can use that to my advantage and go unnoticed while I sneak between the two buildings around the back.
Once I’ve rounded the back, there is one bay door and it’s rolled all the way open, only I don’t see any workers—or hear any noise. It’s odd, even for lunchtime, as most go in shifts so there are always a handful of workers ready to unload and load. That’s the first flag that I’m in the right place and this isn’t a legit business. Maybe Chasity’s information was accurate. I hope so.
Not wanting to risk getting caught, I don’t take any chances by walking inside without a plan. I sneak a peek around the corner inside the large warehouse still seeing no one or hearing anything. There are stacked pallets all over the place. Not wanting to hang around outside and get noticed on camera, I tuck in and position myself behind a tall pallet of merchandise.
I wait two minutes, making sure there aren’t any noises, but then my heart jumps into my throat and I suck in a breath. Gabriel. It has to be him. The sound of a baby crying both thrills me and punches me in the gut at the same time. The what-ifs start flooding my head again—and now isn’t the time for them.
I look up, seeing a similar office like Drago’s on the second level. And now that I’m taking in the interior more, I realize it’s the exact same set up as Acerbi Imports. This could be a good sign. Knowing the layout will help me navigate, but that thought goes to shit when I feel the distinct round metal barrel jab into the back of my skull.
A gun.
Someone has a gun aimed at me—at my head. A normal person would probably shit themselves at this point. I remain calm, straightening my spine. Nothing good ever comes of getting scared.
“You’re right on time, cop.” Diaz’s thick accent assaults my left ear, sickening my stomach when his breath hits my ear. “Hands up. You’re a cop, so you should know this drill already.”
I raise them slowly, holding them parallel to my head.
How did he see me or know I was here? I saw the cameras outside, every building has them, but I doubt many of them have a person sitting in a room eyeing cameras all day. Maybe Diaz does in case local PD or the Feds get wind of this place and decide to raid it. I should have thought of that. I should have waited for Eric like he instructed. Instead, I have a weapon pointed at the back of my head and a dangerous man with his finger on the trigger.
How am I going to get myself out of this and save Gabriel? He’s my first priority.
“You said you wanted me.”
“But I hadn’t told you when or where, yet.” He lowers his face, his nose connecting with my tense skin on my neck. He smells me, making my stomach roll again. “You are mine now, and you’re about to get a lesson on what happens when you disobey me,” he hammers out. Then teeth sink into my skin between my shoulder and neck. It hurts like a son of a bitch. I don’t dare move or breathe, but I have to clench my jaw.
“Walk,” he demands.
Moving, I slowly come out from behind the pallet, looking around with my eyes without moving my head. Where was he hiding? How did I not hear his steps?
I drop my arms, contemplating going for my weapon. So many things could go wrong if I do, but then there is a chance I could get it and fire off a shot before he kills me. Either way, the chances are higher I’ll die at his hands if I do.
If that happens, where does that leave Gabriel? Diaz could get out of here before Eric arrives.
Fuck, I hope he’s bringing backup with him.
He grabs me by the waist, pulling me into his hard chest. “Don’t even think about it.” He removes his hand from my belly and then presses the gun harder into the base of my skull as he maneuvers his other hand, releasing my holstered weapon and taking it from me.
Thank God he didn’t wrap his arm around my chest, or he would have discovered the smaller gun I have concealed under my bra. Even with the fitted shirt I’m wearing, it’s still hidden. I just need to make sure it stays that way.
“I don’t want to put a bullet in that sexy head of yours before I have the chance to wear out this pussy.” He cups me from around my front. I rise up on my tiptoes, trying to get my body away from his filthy hand.
Shoving me with his gun, I’m pushed a step forward, thankfully more inches away from him.
“Over there,” he says. My eyes see the metal chair, even though I didn’t know where over there was. “Go make yourself comfortable.”
The cuffs that are already attached to both sides are the first things I notice. This isn’t going to be good if I allow myself to be restrained. But then what choice do I have?
So stupid, Bri, is all that keeps going through my mind. I couldn’t just wait for Eric like he ordered. I had my eyes on the facility. I could have easily kept a safe distance and waited.
Hurry the hell up, Eric.
I sit, placing my hands in my lap.
“Cuff her,” he says over my head.
I don’t dare turn my head. The look in his eyes is telling me that’s the last move I want to make right now.
It’s when the person behind me grabs my second arm, yanking it down and locking the cuff tightly around my wrist that I smell the heavy perfume. The same scent I smelled less than an hour ago when Chasity sat next to me at the nail salon. It was brief, but I remember it.
Shit. I’m a fucking idiot. I fell for her bullshit and look where I am now.
“So much for you being tired of people thinking you’re dumb.”
“Oh, no.” She snickers and then stands. “That part was true. It’s just that I’m not dumb enough to cross Sebastian.”
“Go handle that crying little bastard. I’m sick of hearing that noise,” Diaz orders.
“Why do I have to do it? Don’t you pay people to deal with him?” Chasity whines.
I have to bite the inside of my cheek to remain silent.
“Because he’s yours. Deal with the problem or I will.” She huffs, stalking off.
“I’m curious,” I mention, needing to draw him into a conversation to give Eric more time to get here. Hopefully, he already is here and he’s out there working out a plan to take Diaz down. At this point, I don’t care if it’s me or someone else that takes the shot as long as the end result is the same.
I should feel guilty for that thought, but I don’t. All I see is hatred and an aching need to end the life of the scumbag that took from Drago and me.
“Fine.” He lets out a heavy breath, staring
down at me. The gun in his hand hangs down at his side, pointing at the ground. Mine isn’t in sight, so it must be tucked into his pants at the back. “I’ll entertain one question, cop, but only one.”
“If you have access to this port then why do you need Drago?”
Why go to all the trouble with a man that wants nothing to do with this life? If anything, forcing a man like Drago could get him caught or killed. So, why bother?
“Redundancy, of course. And well, even I’m not dumb enough to cross Vincent like your man is.”
Vincent Acerbi scares him. I didn’t think it was possible to frighten a man like Sebastian Diaz, but apparently it is. What does that say about Drago’s father then? Is he still running things from Italy? Drago mentioned those discrepancies in his logs, but with all that’s happened, and not happened between us, I don’t know if he ever found out what they were. It’s possible it could be his father.
“How did Drago cross his father?”
“You talk too much. From here on out, you need to realize that mouth of yours is only for sucking my dick—or screaming.” He smiles, but instead of it making him look more appealing, it has the opposite effect. All I see is the evil that resides within those dark eyes. “And there will be a lot of screaming; probably not the good kind you’re used to, though.”
I picture Drago and me in my mind. He made me scream a lot the other night, all of it so very good. But for whatever his reason, it must not have meant as much to him as our time together did to me. I shove the longing back, not needing it to surface now, or ever, if I can help it.
“What the hell is she doing here?” I turn my head. Houston stands stock still thirty feet away from us. “She’s seen me now.”
“Calm your shit, or I’ll put a bullet through your mouth and do it for you. She”—he steps forward, yanking on my hair and jerking my head backward—“won’t ever see the light of day again. She’s mine now.” Diaz’s sardonic laugh rings through my ear. “You get to take credit for finding the kidnapped Acerbi baby. I’m making you a fucking hero, so shut the fuck up, Houston. You should thank me.” Diaz steps several feet away from me, taking a tall stance.
He’s on guard. Does that mean he doesn’t trust Houston? He shouldn’t. Dirty cops don’t have loyalty. They are only out for themselves.
“I’ll thank you when she’s dead.”
Houston moves forward, walking toward me with purpose. Dread washes over me, knowing he’s about to do something I can’t do anything to stop.
And I’m right. He smiles down, showing his “I’ve just won” look before bending and running his hand up my thigh, and then he forces my legs apart. He’s stronger than I am, so no matter how hard I try to keep them together, it’s no use. He cups me between the legs, squeezing to the point of sheer pain. I gasp, baring my teeth at him.
“Get your hand—” My words are interrupted by the blast of a gunshot. I’m startled at first, not knowing where it came from. Then I see blood pouring out of Lance’s shoulder.
“Arghhh,” Houston yells out in pain. He turns, facing away from me and revealing another hole with blood streaming out of it. It’s the entry wound, making the one on his front side the exit wound. Houston was towering over me, so that shot could have easily hit me in the face had it been a few inches to his left. “What the . . . You shot me, motherfucker,” he hisses through his teeth, grabbing his shoulder.
“You, nor anyone else, is allowed to touch my property. She”—he swings the gun, pointing it at me—“is mine. Only I get to touch her unless I want someone else to lay a hand on her. And I can assure you, cop, that isn’t you. Touch my shit again and it’ll be a bullet between your eyes.”
Another blast goes off, but it doesn’t come from the gun Sebastian Diaz is waving around. The shot pierces Houston’s side, taking him down to the ground. He curses, yelling in pain and agony with an ashen look on his face.
Diaz stills, looking at me for a split second before muttering a curse of his own. Then he turns, running toward the open bay door, escaping
Noooo! He can’t get away.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see someone running toward me. That’s when I see Drago. He’s the one that shot Houston. What is he doing here? How is he here?
Did Diaz set him up to come here too, to walk into a trap like I did?
“Drago?” I yell.
Without saying anything, he falls to his knees beside me. Moments later, both of my wrists are free of restraints and I hop out of the chair, nearly falling over Lance to get away from the spot I was being held captive.
Drago grabs me, pulling me away from Houston’s still body.
“What are you doing here?” I can’t help but ask.
His fingers thread my hair, cupping the back of my head. Then his lips crash down on mine, taking them in a rushed and panicked state.
“I fucking lost it when that motherfucker touched you. Then when that shot was fired, I thought—”
“D, I’m okay. I’ll think about that later. I have to get Diaz before he gets away.”
“We,” he corrects. “Here. Take this.” He produces a Glock from behind his back.
I grab it out of his hand as I step up on my toes, stealing a quick kiss from his lips. I need it like I need air to breathe.
“Come on.” The time for questions can wait. I have to stop Diaz before he’s gone forever.
I find Diaz heading toward the pier. Drago races past me, running faster with his longer legs.
At first glance, I’m confused. Sebastian stops at the end, but there is nothing there. Is he planning on jumping in? If so, we can’t let that happen. Him drowning isn’t the way I want to see him die. He deserves so much worse and a lot more pain. I want him to experience the same pain and agony I have.
Yet, I doubt it’s possible for a man like Sebastian Diaz to feel any sense of loss or despair. I doubt he even knows the meaning of either of those. He’s so used to taking from people that I can’t fathom Diaz has had much stripped from him.
Drago is gaining on him when I see him pull out what I’m guessing is a cell phone from the pocket of his pants. Whoever he was contacting, or was doing on the device, is interrupted as D tackles him. They both crash to the ground, but it’s Sebastian that’s on his feet first.
Diaz produces a handgun, raising it and firing before I can stop in my tracks to aim at him. Without looking, I know Drago’s been hit. I’m about to pull the trigger when he turns, sneering at me. A second later he jumps off the pier.
Drago is off the ground in an instant, jumping off after Diaz.
When I get to the end, ready to jump into the water after them, I come to an abrupt stop. It’s then it registers that I didn’t hear a splash when either of them would have hit the water. Just above the surface of the water is a submarine with the top opened. The opening is large, telling me the vessel below the water isn’t a small watercraft, but at the same time can’t be huge or even close to the size of military grade.
I have no idea what the depth of the water underneath me is, but in all my time on the police force, I’ve never seen a submarine up close or even this close to the shore.
Was that what Diaz was doing on his phone? Was he bringing it to the surface to use as his getaway?
Time for questions is later. I have to find them. Drago was shot. Injured, Diaz would have the upper hand, making it easier to kill D.
I hop off the pier, landing four feet below and quickly climb over the open lid and down the ladder. It’s dark inside with minimal lighting, but the space is large and filled with things wrapped in plastic wrap. My first thought: drugs. But inspection will have to wait.
I run past the stacked merchandise, or dope, and see Drago and Diaz in a scuffle. They are both taking fists to their faces and ribs, each landing blow after blow to one another. Taking a stance, I aim my weapon, waiting until I’m able to get a clear shot on Diaz before firing. I won’t chance hitting D.
“Freeze,” I yell, commanding Diaz
to stop. Even as I say the words I’ve been trained to say, I know he’s not going to obey my order.
I finally get my opening when a punch to Drago’s jaw knocks him to the ground. I pull the trigger as Diaz raises his gun to shoot D. He’s already shot him once and I have no idea how bad his wound is; I won’t let him get another round off.
My aim is steady, so when I pull my finger slowly back, releasing the round, Diaz goes down before he’s able to fire his gun.
I race over to where they both lay on the ground and first kick Diaz’s weapon away from him. The pussy is too busy grabbing his leg to have enough sense to go for it. The gun he stole from me is laying closer to Drago, so it must have fallen out of his back pocket during their hand-to-hand combat.
Stepping left, I crouch down, immediately pulling Drago into my arms and guide him as gently as possible until his back is against a wall.
“Please tell me you’re okay.” I start looking for his gunshot wound to inspect it myself.
“I’m fine,” he says through gritted teeth, a hiss following.
“You’ve been shot. You’re not fine.” He grabs my hand, squeezing before I can lift his T-shirt.
“It’s not as bad as it looks.”
“I doubt that. You’re covered in blood and you’re in a hell of a lot of pain.”
“Didn’t say it didn’t hurt like a motherfucker. But it’s just a graze. I’ll be fine. Don’t you need to call for backup or something?”
“Fuck backup. You need an ambulance.”
“You better get backup, bitch,” Diaz yells. “Because you’re dead. Fucking dead, you hear me.”
I jump to my feet, walking back over to where he’s lying.
“I’m dead?” I question. “From the looks of it, you’re the one that should be worrying.”
Without thought, I raise my handgun, aiming it at his head. Just a pull of my finger and he’d be no more. Prison is too good for him. This vile human doesn’t deserve the breath he’s taking right now. He tried to kill me. He stole Drago’s son. He murdered my unborn child. It’s only fair I send him to Hell, where if there is justice, he’ll burn in sheer agony for the rest of eternity.
Dirty War Page 19