by Cara Dee
“Must’ve been hard for Santiago to return home alone,” Gray said softly.
Darius hummed, agreeing. He knew Jake’s friend had struggled for years, and part of him always would. On the flipside, Santiago knew his blessings, didn’t take a day for granted, and he’d named his son after Jake and another buddy of theirs.
With a shake of his head, Darius regrouped his thoughts and let out a long breath. “After Jake’s funeral, Pop gave Ryan the trading cards. He told Ry to let the cards be a reminder of what was important, and it wasn’t always the service.” Ryan had never said anything, though Darius had a feeling it’d been the catalyst to make Ry rethink re-upping after his last tour. “When we get together for holidays, I’ll sometimes quiz Ryan about the war heroes.”
Gray looked up, dropping his chin to Darius’s shoulder instead. “Last night, he just ran out. Was that the Antolak part? He put himself in the line of fire?”
“Pretty much.” Darius smirked ruefully. “He had the cover of darkness, though. Otherwise, I woulda knocked him on his ass for even considering it.”
Gray widened his eyes a bit. “I still might. You’ve both taken too many risks. You deserve an ass-whooping too.”
Darius knocked their foreheads together. “Come at me, knucklehead.”
Gray’s eyes lit up with laughter, a beautiful fucking sight.
Eleven
Carlos died about an hour later. He couldn’t swallow, could barely breathe, he’d pissed himself, his body was shutting down, and so Darius covered Carlos’s nose and mouth until the last light left his unfocused eyes.
Gray helped Darius carry the bodies up to the campsite. The beach apples were left as little gifts next to them, as well as the gun that had killed Arturo. Smudged with Carlos’s fingerprints.
They left a Glock too, matching the bullets that had killed the other two cartel members.
Down on the beach, Lee and Fil covered their tracks in the sand and watched the blood get washed away by the tide.
They were done here.
Lastly, Darius grabbed the rescue rope attached to the lifeboat and dragged it out onto the beach. The boys would walk behind him to give nature a little nudge and hide the tracks of the boat.
“Is it heavy?” Fil asked.
“Not really.” Darius had tied the rope around his hips, making it easier to walk. And it allowed him to concentrate on getting past the pain in his throat. Every now and then, he took sips of water that he gargled and spat out.
“Darius, look!” At Gray’s worried tone, Darius had a hand on his gun before thinking. “Should we hide?”
Darius looked around them, then followed Gray’s skyward gaze. Darius narrowed his eyes at an…object. A drone, it was a fucking drone. “Get into the bush,” he demanded and took aim.
And he waited.
Gray ushered Fil and Lee into the jungle.
Darius grabbed his folder with his free hand and cut himself loose from the rope around his hips. If he needed to run, he couldn’t have the boat slowing him down. Then, with both hands on the gun and the drone in his line of fire, he studied the gadget. Safe to say, it was nothing like the drones he’d seen in the Middle East. It was fucking tiny and reminded him more of the toys photographers used to do flyover shots.
He quickly ruled out that the drone had any ability whatsoever to cause physical harm.
He lowered his aim slowly as the drone lost altitude and approached. It was pale blue and had a camera attached to the underside, and that was the only thing that put Darius on guard. On the other hand, it didn’t strike him as likely that the cartel—or the slave organization—would use this to identify anyone.
That didn’t matter at this point, he figured. If it was, in fact, one or the other of the criminal leagues, the jig was up where his identity was concerned. It had already seen him.
Darius stood still while the football-sized drone circled him. Then it hovered in front of him, a couple feet away from his face, and he cocked his head and tucked away his gun. There was something… He reached out and snatched a card—no, a laminated note—from a clip next to the camera, and when he turned it over, he coughed around a laugh.
“Darius, be careful!” Gray hissed from the tree line.
Darius grinned, his throat feeling thick in a whole new way, and lifted his gaze to the camera. He gestured to his ear. “You got audio?”
He was gonna hug the ever-loving shit out of his sister.
The drone flew sideways a few inches, indicating there was no sound. No worries, though. Darius switched to sign language and asked if she needed any info from him. But of course, it was impossible for her to respond.
“Never mind.” He scratched his jaw, thinking. The note said “Main strait: dusk. WQ” meaning that rescue was arriving tonight. Willow had written it in Morse code, probably to ensure it would take too long to translate if the wrong eyes saw the message. “There’s no place to land,” he signed. “You’re arriving by boat?”
The drone ascended a foot, then down again. Affirmative.
“Is this line secure right now? We can talk in private?”
Another nod.
Darius racked his brain. “There’re twelve of us. No one is in need of medical care right away. We’ve had visitors and don’t know if others are coming to look for them. Whoever picks us up needs to be a ghost afterward. Ryan’s gotta be able to get away too.” He paused, wondering if there was anything else. Eh…he could ask. “Do you need anything else from me?”
A sideways gesture said Willow had everything she needed.
“Are you staying at home?” he asked. He wasn’t too surprised when the drone flew up slightly, but it was disappointing nonetheless. She was a lifesaver, literally. One who traveled by plane only once a year, to visit Jake’s grave at Arlington. “All right, we’ll talk later. Love you, baby girl.”
With a final nod, she was off.
Darius blew out a long breath and let the relief flow through him. For once, he wasn’t gonna let the risks ruin this moment. Shit could always go sideways, but chances were they were heading home tonight.
“Darius.”
He turned to the tree line and saw all three boys standing there, shock visible in their expressions.
“Are…are we being rescued?” Fil asked shakily.
Darius smiled crookedly, having a bit of a hard time believing it himself. “Sure looks like it. That was my sister. There’ll be a boat on the other side of the island waiting for us tonight.”
“Oh my God,” Lee exhaled. Tears filled his eyes, and Fil wasn’t far behind him.
Gray was quiet, looking unsure as all hell.
Darius cleared his throat and jerked his chin at the beach. “Come on, we’ve got some good news to share with the others.”
He knew Gray had struggled with hope for a long time, so Darius didn’t push or try to get the kid to talk. If remaining stoic helped him cope, so be it. If anything, Darius could relate. He wouldn’t call himself a pessimist, though others had in the past. He preferred realist, and that entailed bottling up wishful thinking and hope every once in a while.
The burning in Darius’s throat faded on the trek to the other side of the island. It made the journey far fucking easier.
As they reached the narrow strait between their island and the biggest one, Darius looked around and wondered where they’d see a boat in mere hours. This side was more trafficked, according to Ryan, and it’d been difficult to tell the difference between fly-fishing tourists and potential criminals who were looking for them.
Today was Christmas Day, though. Darius didn’t see any boats now. Hopefully, that meant everyone—including slavers and cartel members—took the day off.
“I can’t wait to see my grandma,” Fil said. He’d been antsy the entire way, swearing up and down he was never gonna be stupid again. The wrong crowd of friends had once drawn him away from his family and closer to a life of hustling and doing drugs. He’d developed a habit fast and turned to pro
stitution, and that was how he’d ended up applying for a job in Texas, much like Jonas had. “I’m gonna go with her to church every Sunday! I’ll go back to school and get my GED.”
Fil was gonna be fine. Miraculously.
Another while later, Darius spotted three guys by the water’s edge some hundred feet away.
“Oh man, imagine using toilet paper again?” Fil exclaimed.
That gave Lee a small chuckle.
Gray sidled up next to Darius. “Let me help you. We’re almost there.”
“It’s fine.” Darius studied him from the corner of his eye. “It’s okay to be hopeful, sweetheart.”
Gray shook his head quickly. “If something happens, I’ll shatter. I can’t take it.” He swallowed hard. “The thought of seeing my… Shit.” He cleared his throat sharply and shook his head again. “I’ll believe it when I see her.” His mother, Darius assumed. “If,” Gray corrected himself quietly. “If I see her.”
Darius’s chest constricted painfully. If only he could do something… He sighed and wiped his forehead. It was a matter of hours. Gray had lasted three months; he would survive on the proverbial edge for another day.
It was Cole, Tai, and Charlie on the beach. They looked to be collecting something by a lone cliffside that stretched out into the turquoise water.
There was no protective cove to shield them here.
Ryan stepped out from the jungle, and presumably their new campsite, and looked at the sky.
“Ry!” Darius yelled.
Ryan turned to them and nodded. “There you are. I was just thinking, where’s an Osprey when you need one?”
Darius laughed under his breath. He was tired as fuck, but his heart was lighter. Hope was a heady drug.
Upon reaching his brother, he untied the rope a final time and clapped Ryan on the back. “Who needs a helicopter when we have a sister with a drone?”
Ryan furrowed his brow.
Fil’s shout of joy put some pieces together. “We’re going home!”
Just like that, the beach was flooded with the other guys, and everyone stared imploringly at Darius.
He smiled faintly and confirmed Fil’s words. “Squeezy contacted us. We’re going home tonight.”
Hope lifted the spirits of most of the boys, and it gave them an appetite Darius hadn’t seen before. When Ryan and the young men he’d been in charge of had arrived at the new spot, they’d focused on building a fire and catching more fish. Which was good; if they’d put their energy into making the camp comfortable, the time would’ve been wasted.
Using the dirty cushions from the tender, some clothes, and a couple logs, everyone formed a circle around the fire that afternoon and started going through their food storage in record time. A fish barely left the grill before it disappeared.
Cole and Gray were less enthused. They ate and drank plenty of water, but they didn’t get in on the excitement or share what they were gonna do once they got home. Niko was quiet as well, though he tried to look happy for Owen’s and Rob’s sakes. The boys were gonna hug their moms, they were gonna shower for hours, eat real food, and sleep for days. Except for those who’d been on Niko and Jonas’s crew; those boys had similar vows like Fil. They were gonna try to reconnect with their parents and get off the streets. Owen was going to swallow his pride and move in with his dad and stepmom. He felt stupid for having run away when his parents had divorced.
Every kid had a story, and they were getting increasingly difficult to keep track of.
Darius and Ryan didn’t have the heart to tell them they were all going to suffer through endless exams and interviews first. Doctors would poke and run tests, and the police were going to have a shitload of questions.
The latter was something they had to discuss now.
“I think the crabs are done.” Fil peered into the large tin can that hung over the fire and stirred the water with a stick. “Man! Uh, no, never mind, that one moved.”
A handful of the boys laughed.
“Bro.” Ry nudged Darius’s side.
He nodded in response and put some more fish into his mouth. “All right, guys. It’s time to talk.” Everyone quieted down and faced Darius, all while stuffing their faces. “Since we haven’t had any real contact with the outside world, we don’t know how everything’s gonna go down when they pick us up.”
“It’s likely we’ll be taken to Nassau or another nearby town in the Bahamas,” Ryan said.
“Do you think we’re far away from the US?” Tai wondered.
“Not too far,” Darius replied. “Nassau’s just closer. Miami and Fort Lauderdale, whichever place we fly into from there, is about an hour away.”
Ryan spoke again. “And once we get there—back home—the authorities will be all over you.”
Everyone sobered at that.
“This is where you gotta pay attention,” Darius told them. “To make your futures safer, we can’t mention a single word of any resistance we’ve put up.” He paused. “We don’t wanna make you guys targets. And that goes for Ryan too.”
Ryan smirked a bit. “We didn’t exactly use legal means to find you, and we have some friends who’ve helped out that we intend to protect from this.”
Charlie glanced around, nervous. “I understand that. I’m, um, I’m not a good liar—how do I not ruin everything?”
“You don’t gotta worry about that, kid,” Darius replied. “There’s not gonna be any prosecutor to interrogate you. No one’s gonna push you because they think you might be hiding something. They just wanna get the story.”
Next up was Cole. He cleared his throat. “Whose jurisdiction is this? Are we gonna get swarmed by more than one branch? ’Cause then we’ll have to tell our story more than once.”
Darius nodded, relating to his worry. Because the truth was, it was gonna be a jurisdictional shitshow. The CIA, the Feds, local authorities—everyone was going to get involved.
Charlie’s nerves got worse. “What if I forget some details or get them mixed up?”
“That’s why we’re gonna make this very simple,” Ryan assured him.
“Does the story matter that much?” Lee asked. “Our faces or names will be known to the public at some point—”
“Or it won’t take much digging,” Cole added.
Lee nodded, agreeing. “Yeah, and then the slavers can come after us anyway.”
They’d been through this before, but Darius understood the need for reminders to reassure. “You don’t know anything—that’s their comfort,” he said. “Money and keeping their organization secure are always their top priorities. And one, it’s financially costly to go after goods you can’t resell. Even if it was to get rid of you. It ain’t free.”
“Two,” Ryan said, taking over, “they do everything to ensure there’s nothing of value you can tell the police. At best, you can name a low-man or identify a driver from when you were taken. The higher-ups don’t give a flying fuck about them. They’re replaceable. And low-men need permission just to take a shit. You’ll be safe.”
“We won’t be, though,” Niko said quietly. “We weren’t cargo. We know more.” He gestured at Tai, Rob, Owen, Fil, and himself. “We can give up the location of where our crew was held on the mainland, and we know where the training facility is in Texas.”
Ryan shook his head. “That property’s shut down. Squeezy found leads in both Dallas and Houston, but all addresses have changed.”
Darius pinched his bottom lip pensively. “What about names and people? Did you meet anyone who ranked higher than Valerie and Vanya?”
Because that was where he set the bar. Everyone below the mother and son was of no value in the long run. It took skills and resources the police didn’t have in order to pinpoint a location that was temporary. That was why they put their efforts into tracking down people. People talked; property didn’t. The paper trail usually led them on a wild goose chase. Only reason Willow had succeeded was because Darius had made the client in custody talk.
Rob shook his head.
Niko answered for them. “It was always her and Vanya. Always the same crew. The guards around the motel where we lived came and went, though.”
Again, they were less important. And this was good. It solidified Darius and Ryan’s belief. These organizations ran a tight ship, and loose lips sank ’em. But if the workers were limited to certain areas or handlers, it wouldn’t matter how eager anyone was to talk because there was nothing to say.
“You’ll likely get a bit more protection in the beginning,” Darius said, which Ryan agreed with. “Other than that… These people know what they’re doing. They won’t let a low-man—or a hostage, for that matter—run around with too much intel.”
Rob and Owen relaxed visibly. Niko was more skeptical, either by nature or from his experiences, but he’d come around eventually.
“So…the story we’re going with?” Oscar asked.
Right. The story.
Twelve
“You really wanna do this?” Darius cocked a brow and smirked.
Ryan’s mouth flattened, and he handed over his carbine to Niko. “You’re in charge, kid. I’mma show my brother who’s boss.”
Darius snorted and unbuttoned his jeans. Fair enough, fucker. Ry had never beaten him in open-water swimming before; that wasn’t about to change. So, two birds, one stone. They’d swim across the strait to get the tender, and on the way there, Darius would take Ry down a peg or two.
The horizon on both sides of the islands was clear. As were the water and the sky. The afternoon sun felt good on Darius’s skin, even more so now that he’d recovered completely from the poisoning.
Soon, both brothers were stripped down to boxer briefs. Darius rolled his shoulders, knowing he’d have to be careful with his wounded one. Ryan didn’t have that disadvantage. He also didn’t have the same leg strength.