21. Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-One
Bear
“ Y ou will find her or you will die trying.” I keep repeating this new mantra to the man in the mirror. From the tightness in his facial muscles to the wild glint in his dark brown eyes, I barely recognize him.
“You. Will. Find. Her.” What other options do I have? None. That’s the only viable ending to this fucked up story.
Pressing my palms to the bathroom cabinet, my fingers curling around the lip, I close my eyes and go over the plan we started hashing out last night. Sarge was elaborate in his tactics, but the gist of the mission is straightforward: go in, kill anyone who gets in your way, get Athena out, kill anyone who gets in our way, then get the fuck off the property.
It sounds simple but a million things could go wrong. The property looked huge on the blueprints we studied last night, but the good thing about your target being paranoid is the limited number of exits. There are two, and we’ve already got eyes on the entrances keeping us up to date.
Someone’s in the house, we know this for sure. The lights go on and off in different rooms, the television flickers in the upstairs room, and guards are stationed on ten hour shifts, rotating between inside and outside. I guess no one can survive being out there for more than a couple of hours, I don’t care how well dressed they are.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that the loud bang at the door has my heart rate spiking.
“Yeah.” I call out once, but realize it’s not loud enough, so I repeat myself.
When the door swings open, I turn from the mirror and look at my best friend standing in the door jamb.
“You ready for this?” He’s not taking this situation lightly, he knows what it feels like to have someone important in harm’s way.
“Were you when Mac was taken?” It’s not really a non-answer, I’m curious because I don’t fucking feel ready, at all.
“Not even a little bit. There’s no gettin’ ready for this shit, brother. We have the intel, we have the means, I guess now we need the hardcore focus. That’s the difference.” He’s right. Psycho has the capacity to zero in on one goal and fucking destroy everything around him to get to it.
That’s what I need to do too. Focus and get shit done.
“Yeah, get shit done is right.” That’s exactly what I needed, the Psycho pep talk.
“Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that we’re all down at the mess hall, Sarge’s words not mine, getting a high-protein breakfast.”
I blink a couple of times, my brain trying to catch up with my ears.
“I guess that’s what happens when you go on a mission with the military.” I mean, we’re no slackers before going all barrels drawn, but we don’t prep with an Olympian’s breakfast either.
“Ain’t gonna lie, I’m not upset about steak and eggs as my first meal.” Psycho rubs his belly and grins like a madman. “Breakfast of fucking champions.” To top it all off, he does a poor rendition of the Marine Corps oohrah before slapping me on the shoulder and jogging right out the door.
That motherfucker ain’t always right in the head, but I can’t deny that getting some protein before we face that fucking weather outside is sounding real good right about now.
With that thought, my head swivels to the right, and as if the universe is trying to tell me something, the light dims a little outside and the sky opens up to a curtain of heavy snowflakes.
Goddamn, this shit is no joke.
With one last look in the mirror behind me, I repeat my mantra for my girl.
“You will find her, or you will die trying.” Then I nod and follow my brother out the door, ready for battle. Ready to bleed. Ready for any-fucking-thing as long as it involves getting my girl back into my arms where she’ll be safe.
Where our compound is an old, renovated internment house, this place looks like a ranch with bunk houses spread all around the main house. I’m no bettin’ man—unless I know I’m gonna win—but if I had to guess, I’d say one of the brothers inherited his parents’ ranch and donated it to the club.
It’s nice, that’s for sure. Only problem for me is having to actually step outside to join the guys at the clubhouse. Or the main house, as they call it.
Gotta be fifteen below right now and I’m not gonna lie, we do not have the clothes for this shit.
As soon as I hop onto the wrap-around porch, my booted feet hit the wooden floor and I stomp out the snow stuck to my soles.
“There he is!” When I look up, the front door is open and I’ve got a straight-eye shot to the long-ass table where all the SOK brothers and sister are stuffing their faces with food. I swear to fuck, they better leave something for me.
“Come on, brother. Let’s get some food in ya. Tonight’s gonna be hard and you need to be on top of your game.”
I grunt in agreement as Tank leads me inside.
To my surprise, the women here sit at the table with them, eating and dressed in warm clothes. I like that. I’m glad that our way of thinking is the same here. Women aren’t treated like second class even though we all know why they hang out. Some for fun with bikers and a little thrill to go with it, while others are escaping some kind of life they can’t stand living. In a way, we offer them shelter. It’s a win-win.
“Hey there. It’s Bear, right?” Looking down and to my right, I see a tiny thing with a full head of red hair looking up at me with big green eyes and a wide smile.
Immediately, the green takes me back to Athena and a fist twists around my heart.
“Yeah.” It’s all I can say without roaring my rage at the fact that my girl was taken while she was under my fucking roof. How the fuck did I let that happen?
“Tanker asked me to get y’all some warm clothes ‘cause, to be honest, that ain’t gonna cut it.” For a small thing, she’s got a strong voice that commands attention. I guess living with a bunch of guys means you toughen up and make yourself heard.
“Ah, thanks…” I have no idea what her name is so I let my last syllable hang so she’ll fill in the space.
“It’s Hazel.” She smiles again, her arms extending with a pile of warm clothes that look heavier than she does.
“Yeah, thanks. ‘Preciate it.” Just as I grab the load from her, the smell of perfectly cooked steak wafts below my nostrils and I swear to fuck, my stomach growls loud enough to scare Hazel into stepping back. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m hungry.”
“I get it, these boys get real ornery if they aren’t fed on time.” With a shrug, she tips her head toward the table and adds, “Go on, get yourself fed.”
Those are words I don’t need repeated. Dropping the clothes on the nearest couch, I join my brothers and Kincaid at the table, where Grinder hands me a plate.
“It’s official, we are making this type of breakfast law in Rockford. I don’t fucking care who I need to blow, it’s happenin’.”
“Don’t let Shade catch you talkin’ about blowing Vanessa.” Grinder’s head snaps to face me, his eyes narrowed and his lips in a thin line.
“What the fuck, Bear? Why would you even say that? I was talkin’ about Hoops. Christ, that’s like sacrilege or some shit.” Shaking my head as Grinder stomps away like I just kicked his puppy, I grin. Ain’t much out there better than getting a reaction from that guy. It’s fucking gold.
Once we’re all seated with our plates full in front of us, I turn to Sarge.
“I just wanted to say, I’m… we’re… real grateful for your hospitality here. Taking us in on your farm—” The whole fucking table goes quiet, heads turning to face me. What the fuck?
“Ain’t a farm, brother. It’s a ranch. Don’t confuse the two.” Um, okay?
“Duly noted.” And just like that, everyone goes back to eating. Odd but sure, when in Rome, I guess.
“Make sure you’re warm but comfortable. You need to be able to move about, be ready for hand-to-hand combat.” Sarge is giving us instructions as we suit up for the mission. We’re leaving in about twenty minutes, plans laid out and a goal in sight. “Remember, we’ve all got com devices on. There’s no need for screaming, just talk into the mic.”
“This is why I didn’t join the military, I don’t do well with commands,” Sledge murmurs beside me, his British accent feeling a little stronger right now.
“I dunno, I feel like we’re in good hands.” Kincaid is shrugging on a heavy white coat before pulling up the zipper.
“‘Cause you ain’t in good hands with us?” Grinder, always too loud, can’t help himself.
“Didn’t say that.”
“May as well have.”
“Shut yer traps, boys.” From the corner of my eye, I see Kincaid’s back go rigid. She won’t say anything but… “And ladies.” Sarge nods in her direction with a smirk at the corner of his lips. I think he was just looking for an excuse to single her out. Interesting.
“Sorry,” Grinder mutters as he sits on the edge of the couch, ready to go.
“Got your CFP right here if y’all want it.”
“What’s that?” Psycho is eyeing the black tubes that Sarge lays out on the table.
“Camouflage face paint. There’s black and white in there since we got a good layer of snow out there. It isn’t necessary but it does help. Over there, we’ve got the trunk with all the weapons. Only get what you can handle. If you don’t know how to shoot it, this ain’t target practice, this is gonna be life or death.”
I really like this guy. He’s smart and he’s up front.
“Good call.” Psycho goes over to our stash and takes out a couple of knives, his preferred weapon.
“Okay, I think we’re good here. Now, remember, I call the shots, not because I’m your superior but because I know the layout and I know what the fuck I’m talking about. Got it?”
“Got it!” We all shout at the same time, and just like that, it’s like a mini initiation into the Marines.
“Oohrah! Saddle up!” With that cry, we all head out, ready to kill some motherfuckers, and I’m fucking praying that expression ain’t literal because I feel for any horse that has to carry my mammoth ass.
We head out just as the sun dips behind what I’m guessing are the Rocky Mountains which, by the way, happens a half hour earlier than in Rockford Beach. Winter’s no joke when you’re Canada’s intimate neighbor.
Beside me in the “outfit”, as Sarge keeps calling the fucking truck, Grinder sits in the middle of the back seat, scowling and mumbling shit about how the cold should be outlawed.
Right behind my seat is Bash, with Kincaid sitting behind Sarge, who’s at the wheel. The other trucks are full as well, but I’m guessing none of them have to deal with a pissed off Grinder.
“I’m telling you, I’m ripping out more teeth than usual because I’mma need to keep moving so I don’t die from frostbite.” After that, I tune him out, leaving him in the care of Sarge, who’s got more patience than a saint.
Thinking about anything other than Athena is becoming more and more impossible. My brain tries to concentrate first and foremost on the mission, imagining our moves and our strategies, but to be honest, the only thing that really matters is the exact moment Athena will be in my arms.
Just as it always does, the thought of finally holding her has a million questions flying through my mind. What have they done to her in the last two days? Will she need medical attention? I linger on this for just a second before I blurt, “You a medic in the Marines?”
It’s only when Sarge puts an abrupt end to whatever he was saying that I realize he and Kincaid were discussing strategies. When I look over my shoulder, I can’t help the tiny smirk that pops up at the corner of my mouth. I have never heard Kincaid speak this much before. Not so many sentences all at once.
“Nah, but we all have a basic notion. Why?” Now, when someone answers, I’d expect them to look at me, but Sarge does the opposite. His gaze meets our prospect’s raised brow in the rear view mirror and I’m willing to bet these two are going to have some celebratory fucking at the end of this mission, and judging by the tense shoulders and the hungry eyes, it’ll be epic for them.
Good. I’ll be caring for my woman and making sure she can survive the psychological warfare they’ve most likely put her through.
“Just in case. I don’t know what they’ll have done to Athena and I want to make sure someone can tend to her once we get her back.” The words come out but I’m already looking out the window as we continue our trek to Arrow’s Creek where Athena is probably fighting for her life.
Swear to fuck, I will rip their limbs from each of their sockets for what they’ve done to my baby girl. Rip. A. Part.
“Tank’s had some training, for a while in high school he was training as a volunteer firefighter. Basics, but that’s always useful.” I nod at Sarge because he’s right, every little bit of knowledge will be useful. There’s a part of me that wishes we had Mac here with us. Her knowledge as a trained EMT could really help. But Psycho would have my balls for even thinking of bringing her into a situation this dangerous and I kinda like them where they are.
“Hey, Bear, we callin’ dibs?” Fucking Grinder.
“Yeah, I’ve got dibs on whoever put his hands on Athena.” I wish I could say there’s humor in my voice but there isn’t. I’m deadly serious.
“Fair enough.” He gets it.
“But, Grinder?”
“Yeah?”
“You can have all the fucking teeth you want.” This time, I do grin, lifting my fist for a brotherly bump.
“Fucking right.”
By the time we make it to Arrow’s Creek, the sky is dark and the cold is fucking unbearable. Until, that is, my adrenaline gets pumping in my bloodstream. My molars are getting a workout and my nails are digging inside the flesh of my palms from how hard I’m clenching my fists. It’s half anticipation of finally reaching Athena and half deep-rooted need to raze the world to satisfy my rage.
Without counting the men who have been here since yesterday and some from this morning, we park our trucks on a path hidden by the pine trees that grow tall and thick. Like a well-oiled machine, we all jump out and slam our doors in perfect unison.
Since the beginning, Sarge has been leading this excursion into kill-a-motherfucker-ask-quesions-never, so we all turn to him and wait for his instructions. With his phone in hand, Sarge lets his thumbs fly across the screen like a practiced teenager, and when he’s finished, he pockets it and raises his head.
“That was Kitch, they’re all set up and waiting for us to give the order. Last count was thirteen.”
“My lucky number.” Grinder’s smile is on this side of psychopathic, especially with the way he’s rubbing his gloved hands together.
Ignoring Grinder, Sarge continues with his orders. “Sledge, Grinder, and Kincaid, you come with me, we’ll be on the south side of the property. There are about six men there walking the perimeter. Bear, Psycho, and Bash, you’ll be sliding down this mountain, right here.” He points behind me where the path stops and the trees begin. “Be careful, the snow is heavy so it’ll be slippery. But this means you’ll be entering the north side of the property where you have the least amount of guards. The rest are inside eating dinner.”
“Those fuckers are about to find out what indigestion feels like.” Psycho barely murmurs his words but in the quiet night blanketed in snowfall, his statement rings out as if he’d screamed it.
Psycho and Grinder fist bump and it hits me, like a sharp blade to the heart, that these men followed me across the whole of the country to help me save a woman I’ve barely known for a week. If that’s not brotherhood then I don’t know what is.
“In the black outfit, you’ve got the earpieces and vests to put underneath your parkas. In the gray one are the weapons. Choose wisely and choose comfortably.” With a collective grunt, we all head to the two trucks he points out.
This time, we’re all quiet, getting in the zone and visualizing the hours to come. With quiet and efficient movements, we gear up, making sure every inch of our bodies is covered. Our parkas are lined with fleece, same for our gloves and caps. Psycho, who usually has Ninja sleeping in his hoodie, has pulled it up to cover his head.
Ninja and Bandit would fucking hate this weather.
“It’s time. Only speak when there’s an emergency, voices carry far and wide out here. Be safe and take out these pieces of shit. Oohrah!” Normally, Sarge belts out his Marine corps battle cry, but this time he nearly whispers it, and for some unknown reason, we all respond in kind with a small echo.
We slip and slide down the mountain. Point out the guards and get as close as possible. One of them has his head down, the light from his phone illuminating his face. He’s alone, like a wandering gazelle that no longer has the herd to protect him.
Psycho pats me on the shoulder before I point my semi automatic equipped with a silencer and shoot. Straight for his head. We’re close enough that I can see the phone falling to the ground and the contrast of the red blood sullying the pureness of the freshly fallen snow.
Crouching low, we make our way to the dead guard and pull him to the side, a little less in plain view. Bash grabbed a branch as we came down that hill, and just like in the movies, he trails it behind him to erase our footprints. Not sure how efficient that is but it’s a good initiative.
This guy is the only guard outside the walled perimeter on our north side, the other two are closer to Sarge’s position.
“One down,” Psycho announces and we all hear him in the earpiece. Not an emergency but it’s good to keep count.
Bash is the one who climbs up the wall, with a leg up from me, to peer over to the other side. All the lights were on in the house, that much we could see from the side of the hill, but there wasn’t much we could decipher when it came to the man walking around.
“I see two men walking away from each other. One is going east, the other west. Nothing else.” I nod at Bash’s words even though he can’t see me.
“Copy that.” Psycho’s words are hushed
Bash comes back down and we decide to put our knives in closer reach to avoid using guns when possible. Silence is key because I don’t want to alert anyone and put Athena’s life in more danger than it is now.
Placing my arms around Bash and Psycho’s shoulders, I pull us into a huddle so I can give them some final instructions. I may not be as good as Sarge but we’ve been on deadly missions before.
“I don’t give a fuck who is in that house. Unless you recognize Athena, you shoot first and go for a kill shot.” I meet Bash’s eyes then Psycho’s so I’m sure they see just how serious I am.
“What if there are other prisoners in there?” Bash’s question throws me off a bit. I didn’t think about that, my mind was too focused on Athena to consider other victims.
“Duh, you save those, Bash,” Psycho answers for me, and I’m grateful for that.
“Don’t get hurt.” I’d hate myself if I lost either one of them. Any of them, to be fair.
“Ain’t happenin’. Mac would have my balls.” Bash and I both nod at Psycho, knowing he’s not being dramatic.
“Let’s get my girl.” With a grunt, we climb over the wall, drop down with a near-silent thud , and crouch at the base.
Psycho does a few finger signals and I’m not even sure he knows what he’s saying, but ever since Sarge showed us how to communicate silently, he’s been practicing. It’s not like it matters, we all know where we’re headed and what our end goal is on this mission.
At this point, we’re not hiding our tracks anymore, we’re going in for the kill but hoping they see us only when it’s too late for them.
From the corner of my eye, I see movement just as I reach the corner of the gigantic ranch-style home. Pretty sure those are four floors up there, it’s fucking insane. When I look back, I see Psycho sneaking up on a guard, one gloved hand on the guy’s mouth as he slices his throat with his free hand. Quick and clean, just the way I like it. Well, besides the now blood-red snow at Psycho’s feet as he cleans his knife on his pants leg and looks around for more prey.
Just as Psycho takes cover, I hear boots coming up along the side of the house. Nothing hurried, just a normal pace.
And soon, they’ll be silent.
Sure, I could think about how the guy coming my way has a spouse or kids or parents or whatever the fuck he may hold dear to his heart, but this motherfucker is part of the problem. This fool decided to work for scum so he’s gonna die.
Just as he rounds the corner, I hook him around the throat and smash him into the wall, hard enough to stun him but not enough to get the attention of the others.
With my lips at his ear as I cover his mouth with one hand and the pointed end of my knife digging under his chin, I whisper, “Where’s Athena?”
The guy just shakes his head. I don’t have time for this shit so I slam my knife all the way up until he starts choking on his own blood. Then I take pity and slice his throat wide open. If he ain’t gonna help then he’s better off dead.
To be fair, either way, he’d still be dead.
Laying his body down, I push it right up against the house so he’s not completely in sight. That’s when I see the keys hanging from the guy’s belt and without a second’s hesitation, I snatch them right off.
Looking left then right, I hug the wall as I hurry to the nearest door, catching up to Bash, who’s hidden in a nook sending off a message if the light from the phone is any indication. When I reach him, he doesn’t even flinch, which tells me he saw me coming.
“Sarge said they’ve killed everyone on their side, just waiting for our signal to burst into the house.”
Just as Bash catches me up on the plan, I feel Psycho come up to my side.
“I got two. Took their weapons but this ain’t a video game and I have zero space or enough pockets to store them.” Psycho shrugs, like this conversation is normal in any world.
“Just leave them,” I whisper, pretty sure we have enough of our own.
“I did. Got their bullets though. Can never have enough of those.”
True words. Those fuckers are expensive. I should know, I’m the fucking treasurer of this motorcycle club.
“All right, y’all. Let’s do it. The door is right over there. We either use these,” I hold up the keys I just stole off the dead guy. “Or we bust in, guns blazing.”
Psycho’s lips turn up at the corners, his eyes taking on that demented fire about them, and I don’t need to hear him to know the answer.
“Since when do we knock?”
“Bust in it is, then.” I grab Psycho by the back of the head and pull him in close, our foreheads touching and our eyes locked on one another. “You be careful, brother. Kill, don’t be killed.”
“Right on.”
Just then, Bash clears his throat. “Sarge needs a countdown.”
I nod as Psycho and I separate and we both give Bash our attention.
“Ten seconds. Nine. Eight.” Bash types aways as we quietly dash to the door and wait for the last second to be counted down.
When it does, all fucking hell breaks loose. Screams echo and orders are given as the men scramble to drop their forks and grab their guns. Bullets are flying, one way too fucking close to my bald ass head. Pretty sure I felt the wind of it whooshing by my temple. Wouldn’t be surprised if mama’s ghost bitchslapped it away to save my life. Like she always used to say, “You best not get your ass killed over some stupid shit cause I will come back and kill you all over again.” I mentally kiss my mama’s cheek and focus on the fight ahead. Keeping myself alive isn’t just about making her proud, it’s also about getting my woman back.
I shoot one, then the other, as they run into the hall, leaving the marble floors smeared in blood. Sarge comes in through the other side, his weapon held close like a fucking special ops badass as he picks off those fuckers one by one. They all go down like paper weights, their bodies convulsing from the power of the bullet going through their bodies.
While Sarge and his crew finish off the guys downstairs, I hesitate, torn between going up or going down to the basement. When I see Sledge and Grinder running up the stairs, I veer toward the basement, taking the steps at neck breaking speeds. When I get there, I freeze as I try to understand what I’m seeing.
Psycho comes up behind me, whistling as he takes in the scene.
“That’s a lot of fucking cocaine there, brother.” I nod at his words, and as much as I’d like to imagine this stash lining our pockets with cash, it’s not my end goal and I seriously couldn’t give an ounce of shit.
“Yeah, but it ain’t Athena.”
The basement is half the size of the house and it takes me less than two minutes to realize Athena isn’t down here. No one is. Not a fucking soul.
“Maybe they found her upstairs.” I nod at Psycho as I run up the stairs to the floor I was on earlier, then I take two or three steps at a time to get upstairs. Just as I round the corner of the last step, I feel a white-hot heat across my skull.
So focused on getting to Athena, I let my guard down. Not to mention, I was sure we’d killed them all.
“The fuck you doin’ here?” When I look up from where I’ve fallen to one knee, I don’t need a mirror to know my lip is curled and my jaw is tight. When I let loose a feral growl, I see the fear in the guy’s eyes. My pulse is beating faster, my mouth is watering with the thirst to rip this asshole into pieces. The best part of it all is watching this motherfucker shit his pants as I rise to my full height and barely move as he hits me with a bat.
My body is too pumped up on adrenaline to feel anything now, so when he swings yet again, I grab the end and pull as hard as I can. Short black hair is splattered with blood as wide brown eyes stare back at me, his mouth open like he knows he’s about to pay God Almighty a visit… just before he dives into Hell.
“Where’s Athena?” I’m stalking him as he backpedals along the wall. Behind me, the sounds of skin hitting skin and metal thudding against bone fades away as my attention stays firmly on this guy.
“I–I don’t know.”
“Where. Is. Athena?” I hate repeating myself, doubly so when it’s a simple fucking question.
“She’s not here. They-they took her away.”
My hand shoots out and my fingers wrap around his throat.
“Where the fuck is she?” This time, my calm and collected has left the fucking building and this fucker knows it.
“I don’t know. I don’t fucking know. I just guard the house, man.” I wish I could say that I plan to take pity on this man.
I do not.
With a roar that shakes the very foundations of this house, I slam the guy’s head against the wall, over and over again, until his skull is literally bashed in. Even then, I continue. Like I’m practicing some kind of destruction therapy, I take all of my frustrations out on this guy while the world around me goes to shit. Men running around, getting shot in the back, the front, the fucking skull. Meanwhile, I’m remodeling the house with this guy’s blood.
Red never goes out of style.
“Bear, man. We just did a sweep of the whole house and there’s no one here.” Sarge and Grinder are reloading their guns and securing them in their holsters.
“Yeah, what Sarge said. It’s a big fucking house too, and their decorator spent way too much time tripping on acid.”
That’s when I stop bashing this guy’s head in and let him drop to the floor.
“Where the fuck is she?” Speaking through my teeth because it feels like my jaw is locked into place, I kick my victim for good measure.
“No idea, but our intel was right. This is a house that belongs to The Firm.” I’m staring at Sarge as he talks but my mind is whirling with the possibility that I may never find her.
“I’m sorry, man. She said she was living here and we believe it. That room all the way on the third floor was like a prison cell.” Those words get my immediate attention.
“Where?”
“Here, I’ll take you.” Grinder sprints for the next floor up and I follow him, so close I almost slam into him when he stops at the entrance of a tiny bedroom.
I smell her scent. It’s light, barely there, but with every breath I take, that smell invades my bloodstream.
There's a bed, or a cot really, with a television that’s barely the size of a computer screen. The movies she so often spoke about are all there, on the dresser, piled up. Zoolander , Forrest Gump , Pitch Perfect .
“Maybe they hate this cold too. Headed somewhere else. Another house, maybe?” Grinder is speaking more to himself than to us, but I hate that he’s giving me hope. Problem is, how the fuck are we supposed to find out which one? The only reason we knew about this one was from Athena’s GPS.
“Maybe we should make them come to us?” I don’t know where I get this idea, but as soon as I speak the words, they ring true.
“How?” Psycho’s on board with whatever and I fucking love that about him.
“Burn this motherfucker down to the ground.” Before I leave the room, I grab the pack Bash is carrying on his back and pull it off. With one quick swipe of the arm, I’ve got all of Athena’s movies inside. There are less than ten but I have to shove them to make them fit.
“Guess we’re chillin’ by the fire and watching a movie, then, huh?” I think Grinder is disappointed the mission went to shit because he’s trying to make light of the situation, but it’s not shining through. In fact, his jokes are falling flat because he’s not feeling them either.
Without answering him, I walk out and search for the one thing I need.
I find it in the main suite. A huge fig-scented candle sits on a gothic-looking dresser that actually has fucking horns on the side. What the actual fuck? I grab the candle and rummage through the drawers trying to find a lighter.
“Here you go, brother.” Psycho is right there, the flame of his zippo burning bright. Tilting the candle, I light it up before taking it to the long, silky, blackout drapes, and watch as the fire catches. Instantly, the one side is lit.
“Get everyone out.” I’m not fucking around. I don’t want any of my men to get hurt or get caught in the flames.
“Right on.” Psycho turns and roars out the exact same command I just gave him. “All you fuckers outside, now!”
Jogging from room to room, I light up all the fucking flammable shit I can find. I don’t want them to have a single inch of this house still standing when they come back.
If… they come back.
By the time I’m done, half the house is burning bright. Wood works wonders in situations like these.
Running down the stairs before the smoke gets to me, I throw the candle into the living room and smirk when it lands next to one of the men we shot. By the time I make it outside, I see some of Sarge’s men, including Bash and Kincaid, hauling the dead bodies into the house while the fire is still mainly upstairs. I mean, the less evidence, the better, and fire is great for a cleanup.
“Well, as much as I love a bonfire, I suggest we get the fuck out of here.” Grinder stands next to me as my rage threatens to take over me. “We’ll find her, brother. And when we do, we’ll kill every motherfucker that dared touch her.”
Grinder’s words bring me over the edge of sanity, and with a long gulp of frigid air, I roar out my anger and frustration. My need for violence and my desire to maim. My voice comes from deep down in my gut and if this were the top of a mountain, it would have set off a fucking avalanche.
Only once every breath expires do I bend at the waist, my palms pushing against my knees as I gulp in much-needed air.
This fire is a last hail Mary and the chances they contact us are slim to none. More none than slim, no doubt, but the idea of leaving this place intact makes me want to rip someone’s head right off their shoulders.
“Shame for all that coke,” Bash murmurs behind me.
“Better to have it down there where it can’t hurt anyone.” Sarge’s answer doesn’t even surprise me.
In the distance, the faint sound of a phone ringing gets my attention.
“Yeah?” Just as he answers his phone, my eyes meet Psycho’s and he holds my stare. “No, never heard of ‘em.” Walking over to me, Psycho holds up a finger to tell me to hold my shit for just a second. “Well, yeah. It was a bust here.” His brow slants into a frown and his head cocks to the side like a fucking puppy hearing the sounds of his favorite toy. “Right on, man. Yeah, okay. Thanks.” Then he hangs up and the feral grin he gives me spurs hope right through my body again.
“Who was it?” I ask, hoping it’s a lead we can get to right away.
“Marco fucking Mancini, coming through once more.” Then he turns to Sarge. “Y’all ever heard of Ophelia Warren and Jarrett Vale?” Every single head around us shakes and my hope starts to dwindle by the second.
“Who the fuck are they?” I’ll kill them if I have to.
“They’ve been hunting down The Firm for a while, and when Marco talked to them about our mission, they said they would come with the full force of their teams.”
“Teams? As in plural?” Who are these people? I mean, I get that Psycho trusts Marco, and to be honest, I do too, but I’ve never heard of these two. For all I know, they could be working for The Firm and fucking with us.
“Yeah, Marco said… and I quote, ‘They’re bringing in the dogs’.”