The fence loomed up with Gabe, Hawk, and Bull crouched at the base, tucking their night vision goggles and head mounts away inside various pockets. She settled beside Bull and did the same. His squeeze on her shoulder, in an obvious well done, eased the fear flooding her bloodstream. JJ appeared, going down on one knee beside Hawk. A few seconds later, another shadow joined them, and Frankie jumped. She hadn’t seen or heard Caz’s approach at all.
Then again, there was a lot of shouting and banging and honking coming from the front gate. The diversion volunteers had been very enthusiastic about their job, especially after Zappa, the gas station owner, had donated two beat-up cars for them to crash.
Against the fence, the transportation volunteers hunkered down to wait until summoned. Bull handed Gryff’s leash to Knox and got a betrayed look from the dog.
Rising, Gabe slipped through the opened flap of fence. He’d left some top links to hold up the person-sized cut section. The fence still appeared intact to all but a close inspection.
After checking the area, Gabe motioned for the assault team. As Hawk held the fence open, Caz, JJ, Bull, and Frankie sidestepped into the compound.
Gabe led them toward the back of two shabby prefabs—the barracks for the women and children.
Lights on the corners of the buildings made bright pools on the ground, leaving the rest in shadow. At least they were out of sight of the watchtowers on the corners of the fence. Frankie tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry.
Children’s quiet voices came from the building to the left. Thumps and a woman’s hoarse cries sounded from the right, which must be the women’s barracks. Surely, they didn’t have sex in there with others watching.
Aric and Kit would be in these buildings. Almost too afraid to hope, Frankie reached out, and Bull took her hand, squeezing it in reassurance.
A closer examination showed the back doors were secured with heavy iron grillwork. So were the windows. Anger shunted aside Frankie’s fear for a moment. The bastardi obviously didn’t want anyone leaving the buildings—even if it meant the occupants would burn if there was a fire.
Having checked the door and grillwork, Gabe shook his head and whispered, “It’d be too noisy to break in here. Bull, you and Frankie take left. Caz and JJ, right. Hawk and I’ll go in the front door and open this from the inside.”
As Gabe and Hawk went between the two buildings, Frankie followed Bull. Her legs felt like wooden pegs, as if they didn’t belong to her at all. Her heart pounded so hard it seemed like any guards inside the compound would hear it.
Thankfully, the diversion was still noisy. From the front gate came Felix’s distinctive voice. “I’m saying that you crashed my car, you scum-sucking, boot-licking turd, and I’m taking you to court.”
“This isn’t the fucking courthouse,” another man yelled. “Get yer asses out of here. This’s a private road.”
“It’s not private on this side of the gate. We can be here if we want to.” That was a young woman. Erica, maybe? Or Amka? “What an asshole.”
Frankie almost snorted. Okay, not shy Amka.
Peering around the rightmost building’s corner, Bull held up his hand with two fingers extended. Two guards.
Frankie cringed, then firmed her resolve. She’d do what she had to do. Around the corner, she stayed in the darkness beside the building. The dark camo made Bull hard to see—so very reassuring since she was dressed the same way.
A short distance away, their targets stood together, listening to the altercation on the road. “Maybe we should go help?” one said.
In the shadows, Bull moved past the two men and turned, ready to attack from that side.
Noiselessly, Frankie gripped her jo and steadied her breathing. She found the calm space where her mind flowed together with her body and her energy.
This was what must be done, and she’d do it well.
In silence, Bull charged.
Just as quietly, Frankie sped the few steps to hit her target from behind. The short staff came down right on Mr. Spock’s favorite spot—the brachial plexus pressure point near where his neck met his shoulder.
The man dropped like a rock.
She had only seconds before he’d recover and yell. Even as she yanked his arms back and into the tactical zip tie cuffs, Bull was doing the same with his downed opponent.
Shoving a wad of cloth into her bastardo’s mouth, she secured it with duct tape. According to Hawk, duct tape was easy to get rid of, but Chevy would watch over the captive guards during the mission.
Please, let this all be over quickly.
Inside the building, there were thumping sounds and squeaks of frightened children. Gabe and Hawk must have entered.
At the front gate, the altercation had grown louder.
“You’re gonna have to pay for this!” Was that Raymond, the bartender? “Are you drunk? You bitches shouldn’t be allowed to drink. Or drive. Hell, or vote, either.”
He got a rousing cheer from what sounded like more guys than in the diversion group. Some PZ men must have joined in. Frankie almost laughed, knowing Raymond was more of a feminist than she was.
Grabbing her opponent’s jacket, she dragged him into the shadows, following Bull to the back of the building. The PZ really needed to lose some weight. Sweating, she reached the now open back door.
The transporters were already running up to get a child and hauling ass back to the forest. Her heart squeezed in hope—and worry. Keep them safe, guys.
In the doorway, Gabe handed a wide-eyed little girl to Rasmussen who immediately turned and headed for the opening in the fence. All in silence.
Caz handed over the next child to Knox.
Frankie shook her head. Anywhere else, children would be screaming bloody murder at being handled by strangers. Not here in this abusive place. Heartrending as it was, the abuse worked in the rescuer’s favor. The children were more afraid of making noise than of the balaclava-masked men.
With a grunt, Bull tossed his man through the door.
Show off. Frankie tried to drag her man up the single step—and got stuck.
Bull’s eyes crinkled, and he threw her guy inside, too.
Approaching with another couple of children, Gabe sidestepped the trussed-up PZs. He nodded at Bull and Frankie. “Good job. We only had the matron and a PZ guard in here.”
Frankie stopped beside Caz. “Did Aric get out?” They’d all studied her godson’s picture and promised to watch for him.
“No, chica. We haven’t seen him yet.” His dark eyes were worried.
More children were given over to the rescuers until, aside from the tied-up PZ, the room was empty.
Fear squeezed Frankie’s heart. She stalked over to the matron. “Where is Aric?”
The woman shook her head frantically.
“I already asked.” Gabe set a hand on Frankie’s shoulder. “She doesn’t know, but he often sneaks out to be with his mama. He’s probably in the women’s building.”
Another man entered from the back door, camo balaclava firmly in place. Frankie recognized short-statured Chevy only because his impressive musculature made him almost as wide as he was tall. He nodded to Bull. “I’m your asshole-sitter for the evening.”
“Good timing.” Bull motioned to the row of tied-up PZs on the floor. “Watch for breathing or gagging problems. Give him a knife, bro.”
Caz handed Chevy one of the myriad of knives he carried.
Bull continued. “A knife gives them an incentive to stay quiet. Slashing faces—or balls—works well.”
One of the tied-up men paled and drew his legs together.
“Fun times.” Chevy thumbed the blade carefully. “Nice. Even nicer that I won’t get stuck cleaning up blood this time around.”
Frankie blinked. He sure didn’t sound like the cheerful handyman she’d met in the roadhouse.
His act worked. From the way the prisoners stared at him, they wouldn’t make a peep.
“Listen for the signal
to leave,” Bull instructed, got an affirming nod, and went out the back door with Frankie.
Outside, JJ had appropriated a guard’s jacket and had changed the balaclava to a stocking hose to blur her facial features. Pretending to be one of their guards, she strolled casually around the area.
Between the two buildings, Gabe waited at the front corner with Hawk and Caz. He glanced over and tapped his ear.
Tilting her head, Frankie listened and heard men’s voices coming from inside the building. Her stomach sank. They’d hoped the building would contain only women, not men.
Shades blocked any view of the inside. And the front door was the only entry. There was no way to take the men by surprise, and a noisy fight would alert the rest of the compound.
Bull shrugged as if to say no choice.
When Gabe took a step, Frankie grabbed his arm and whispered, “Let me go first. It’ll take a second for them to notice my clothing. If I keep their attention, you might be able to deal with them without too much noise.”
All four men frowned at her. So protective.
Well, she probably appeared terrified…because she was. She lifted her chin and glared. Letting Bull—any of them—get killed, wasn’t going to happen if she could prevent it.
Gabe nodded. “Safest option.”
“Dammit.” Bull set his hand on her arm. “Do it.”
“I love you,” she breathed. She yanked off her balaclava and stuffed it inside her vest. After tugging her hair out of the braid, she mussed it up. Bedroom hair.
Hawk chuckled. A faint rasp. “Clever girl.”
Caz squeezed her shoulder in reassurance. “We’ll be right after you.”
“I’ll draw their attention to the right.” Okay, okay, I can do this. Using her short staff as if she were injured, she limped into the women’s building. A quick glance took in the women sitting on the bunk beds that lined the right and left walls. She headed right.
Three men stood in the center of the room. Two looked over at her.
Frankie raised her voice. “Mary? I was told to get you and—” As if she’d just noticed the men, she waved her free hand in the air in an eye-catching gesture. “Oh, hey, sorry.”
And now, she saw that the third man in the room was Obadiah. Not even noticing her entry, he scowled down at—
Covered in blood, Kit lay curled in a shuddering ball on the floor.
“Stupid bitch.” Obadiah drew his booted foot back.
“No!” Frankie charged him. Too far. She’d never get there—
Hawk dove through the doorway and slammed into Obadiah. The two flew back, hitting a heavy bunk bed with a crash.
Bull lunged across the room. His punch knocked one man to the floor. Gabe took out the other.
Kit. Oh, Kit. Dropping her staff, Frankie knelt, afraid to even touch her friend. So much blood. “Cazzo, what did they do to you?”
Kit was making little grunts of pain, her breathing far too fast and shallow. Blood poured from a long gash down her face and covered her clothing. A cast on her arm was half-shattered. Her eyes opened.
Gently squeezing her hand, Frankie leaned down. “I’m here, amica mia. We’re getting you and Aric out of this place.”
Kit blinked. “Fran—I didn’t tell. Didn’t.” The awareness faded from her eyes.
When Caz crouched beside Frankie, Bull gripped her shoulder. “Let the doc work, sweetheart. We need you to ask if anyone is coming with us.”
But…Kit. Frankie watched for a few seconds as Caz’s hands moved over her friend’s body. The doc was caring and competent and gentle. Kit was safe with him.
Right. She tried to stand, but all the strength had left her legs. She took Bull’s hand. “Help?”
“Always.” He pulled her to her feet and kept a steadying hand under her arm.
“We have to find Aric,” she told him.
“We will.”
Gabe joined them. “The bastards welded the back door of this building shut. Didn’t trust the women, I guess. You’ll have to exit out the front.” Gabe’s voice lowered. “We have too many men in here—I’ll send JJ in and take watch.”
“Got it.” Bull drew Frankie forward toward the women on the bunk beds.
Over to the left, Hawk pushed to his feet. Obadiah lay on the floor, unmoving.
The two men who Bull and Gabe had downed also lay on the floor, already zip tied. She blinked in surprise, realizing one was Captain Nabera, the black-bearded older man from the bar. He’d been watching Obadiah kick Kit? To make an example of her. Frankie’s hands fisted.
Her gaze ran around the room, seeing the women on the beds. The cowards had just sat there, letting the men hurt Kit. Frankie had half a mind to just walk out of the place and let them rot.
She started to glare at them.
But…they didn’t even notice her. All of them were cringing, shaking, and staring at Hawk, Caz, and Bull. At the male rescuers.
Their faces were wet with tears, eyes reddened and puffy. They’d been crying for Kit and…were too frightened to help. Frankie’s anger snuffed out. How long could courage last in the face of pain. Of threats to children? The only blame should go to where it belonged, to the abusers.
Okay, I’ll get you out. If you’ll come.
Could she talk them into leaving?
Maybe. After all, she’d been reassuring Bocelli’s timid new hires since she was sixteen. She took a slow breath, found the calm at her center, and let it flow into her voice. “Ladies, I’m Kit’s friend. She asked me to get her and Aric away from this prison, away from being beat up and hurt. We’re leaving with her now, but if you want, we’ll take you with us.”
Silence. Then one woman whispered. “They have my daughter.”
Frankie expected Bull to speak, but he inclined his head toward JJ who stood in the doorway.
JJ’s features were blurred by the stocking mask—but she was visibly female as was her strong, husky voice. “All the children from the barracks are already out. They’re being taken to town and to the authorities where they’ll be safe. If you want out of this place, come now.”
Two women stood up.
The others shook their heads, and their frightened voices filled the room.
“They won’t let us go.”
“They’ll come after us.”
“We’ll never get away.”
Yanking off her stocking mask, JJ set her hand on her weapons belt, her posture military straight. “I’m Officer Jayden with the Rescue Police Department. If you want to leave, we will keep you safe. But you come with us right now…or stay here. Your choice.”
Three more rose and stepped forward.
“How do we know it’s not a trick?” whispered a very battered young woman.
Frankie’s heart broke. But she lifted her chin. “I’m Kit’s friend, and I arranged this. It’s no trick.”
Could they find the courage to leave?
With a moan of pain, Kit opened her eyes. She swallowed, then glared half-blindly at the women. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Go with Frankie, you idiots.”
* * *
So that was Frankie’s buddy, Hawk thought. The woman couldn’t even see straight, could barely talk, but her thoughts were for her fellow women.
He had to respect that kind of loyalty.
Bending, Hawk checked the pulse of the bastard at his feet. Nothing. He’d tackled the asshole, and they’d hit the bedframe so hard it’d busted the guy’s neck.
It was a righteous kill—the asshole had been trying to kick the woman to death—yet it was one more body to add to the total on Hawk’s soul.
With an effort, Hawk shook loose of the guilt and checked out the situation.
With her staff in hand, Frankie was chivvying the PZ women out of the building after JJ who’d taken the lead. The terrified little flock detoured widely around Bull and Caz and were holding onto each other.
A few were still on their beds, unwilling to leave—true believers who’d downed the Kool-Aid.
Bull went outside to guard them until they reached the fence where the transport team would guide them through the forest.
Hawk didn’t try to help. Hell, he terrified normal women with his scars and tats. If he tried to help this batch, they’d scatter into hiding like a flock of ptarmigans.
But he could serve as a pack mule for Frankie’s damaged friend.
Caz looked up. “Need to find the child, ’mano.” He was applying field dressings to stop the worst of the bleeding.
Fuck, they’d worked her over good. Hawk scowled.
No one, especially not a woman, should be brutalized like that. Just seeing her bruises brought back the shocking pain of his father’s big fist hitting his face. The way a kick in the belly had left him curled up, unable to even breathe. The nauseating agony of a busted bone.
With a low grunt, he shook himself free of the fucked-up memories. “I’ll check the ro—”
A movement caught his eye.
A little boy wiggled out from under a bed and darted toward the woman.
Hawk grabbed the kid before he landed on her. “Uh-uh. She’s hurt, buddy.”
The boy went nuts, squirming and kicking and fighting to get to Kit—and yeah, this must be her son. “Aric.”
At his name, the kid went limp, staring up at Hawk with the biggest blue eyes he’d ever seen. Haunted, terrified eyes. His high voice was the merest whisper. “Mommy’s hurt.”
Jesus. Hawk felt like someone had stabbed him right in the chest. “Yeah, she’s hurt. But we’ll take her to the hospital. Get her help.”
On the floor, Kit opened her eyes. “Aric.” Her voice wasn’t any louder than her son’s. She blinked, trying to focus. Saw her boy in Hawk’s arms. Her gaze rose to meet Hawk’s and she…looked…at him. The kind of look that penetrated past the surface. Her voice was barely a whisper. “Keep him safe.”
Before he could answer, tell her that no kid would want to be around him, her gaze dropped to her son. “Aric, stay with him.”
A second later, she was out cold.
“Cabrones,” Caz was muttering as he rose.
What You See: Sons of the Survivalist: 3 Page 28