chapter twenty-four
MAN ON FIRE
SNAKE ~ UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
The building is nondescript. When our team pulls up, the facade is cloaked in darkness. “The intel we have says there are at least two dozen bodies inside.” Oz says over the comm.
“How many are guards? And where are they stationed?” Angel asks as we watch the two other teams take their positions.
“Eight. Two at the four different access points, but I wasn’t counting them since they’re dead men,” Oz quips over the line.
Catching Angel’s eyes, we both shake our heads at his crazy-ass.
He was determined to show-up for this mission.
He’d monitored the mission to rescue Kandie, and a man like that — a man like me doesn’t ever want to sit idly by when people they love come to harm.
So despite his obvious antipathy towards us, he insisted on joining us, representing The Savalle Syndicate.
The Seven Bastards Syndicate, as they like to coin themselves, has made its particular interest in the Love family known since one of the brothers — Oz — is also a cousin.
Instead of war raging between us, we have now forged a tenuous bond at Ezkiel-Jane’s insistence that, working together, our organizations can do more to stop child trafficking than fighting each other.
“No matter how noble his intentions may seem, I don’t trust that motherfucker,” I told Angel after he arrived. Ezekiel-Jane and her grandparents were over the moon when he showed up. Saban also didn’t even attempt to hide how happy she was in that cheeky way of hers.
I take great pleasure in reminding her about whose name she wears when her little ass smiles one too many times in his direction. Last night left us both wrung out and exhausted. She still has to learn she shouldn’t bait the beast.
Dreamy-eyed and sleep-deprived, she clung to me this morning before we headed out. That was the only thing that kept me from tearing into that gray-eyed menace.
“Is everyone in place?” I ask, though I can see the last team led by Bahir Carrington getting into formation at their mark insertion point.
When the infiltration of the building begins, it all goes smoothly with each team taking down the guards at their designated insertion points with stealth. Moving the bodies out of the way so as not to interfere with extracting the kids.
Then the flash-bangs start. Paramilitary corps flood in as if forewarned or trained just to always be ready. There are more than fifty once reinforcements are called.
We get hemmed in on one side for a few short critical minutes. By the time teams two and three make it to the sub-basements where we think kids are being held, the rooms are already evacuated.
Floor by floor, we search, coming up empty. Then Oz finds the false wall made of reinforced concrete and lead, which makes it undetectable to infrared scans.
“Now we know how they hid and took the kids out,” he says over the comm, showing us the long dark tunnel leading out of the facility.
Before we can say stop, and not heeding my command to wait for us, he charges forth flanked by his men on all sides.
Hustling to follow, we are ten minutes into the pursuit when we finally catch up with him and his men. The fighting is silent and vicious.
Men on both sides lie around dead or dying.
Ozymandias Love in the center of it all, fighting like a raging fallen angel hell-bent on retribution.
He is fury incarnate. I have to acknowledge with grudging respect.
The man takes on all comers with a vicious, eager smile.
The sheer joy he seems to have with every kill is chilling.
We join him without hesitation, Angel to my right, Padre to my left, and Rocco at my six. We move as one, taking on groups of unfortunate souls and sending them to hell. The action goes fast. Soon the opposition dwindles to less than a dozen.
In my periphery, I see kids of varying ages and races huddled together in fear, making something snap in me. All I can see in Saban tied to that fucking bed at nine, and I want nothing more than to kill every repulsive motherfucker who would dare harm the sweet soul of a child.
Many of them beg for their lives. I give them no mercy. None. There can’t be when they profited off the sale of a human soul.
We dead them all. Some give up useful intel, but for the most part — they die how they lived — like craven little bastards.
Soaked in sweat and other men’s blood, we turn for the long walk back to where we have vans waiting to take the kids to care facilities and then to hopefully reconnect them with their families.
We are about a quarter of a mile from the vans station out of sight of the building, when I first see Oz stumble.
We're all carrying at least two kids. He has one on his back and another cradled in his arms. He rights himself, continuing on until he stumbles again, this time falling to his knees.
Managing to protect the kids from the fall, he positioned his body so that he takes the brunt of the impact.
Padre rushes over, then Rocco followed by me and Angel and more of his own guys.
“Dammit,” he groans, his eyes squeezed tight and pain. Two of the guys pull the kids away, taking away his burden. That's when we see the fresh blood soaking high on the right side of his abdomen.
“It’s a flesh wound.” Waving a limp hand in the air dismissively, he gives a rough chuckle, then tries to sit up, which he manages to do successfully. It’s when he tries to stand that it becomes apparent that there’s way more going on than just the flesh wound.
“Hey man, you look like you need some help.” Angel steps forward.
“Never from you, motherfucker.” Comes a hiss from lips pressed together in pain.
“Too fucking bad, man.” Stalking over to his group, I take one arm, pulling it over my shoulder. “I’ll carry you if I have to, because I don't wanna hear about Mama-Pete being upset.”
The good thing about having an international syndicate at your banking call is the transportation. You need six vans to rescue the kids? Done. Need a military-style helicopter to metal back a surly syndicate boss out of an almost botched rescue? Done.
We’ve reached UAB in Birmingham in record time, and Oz is taken into surgery immediately. I was able to do a quick and dirty triage on the helicopter.
Angel and the rest of the guys stuck to the plan. Take the children to a safe location where they can be seen medically, then meet with the child psychologists we have on hand.
We don't know what to expect other than the worst. We know there will be lasting trauma.
These kids will probably carry for the rest of their lives.
I know firsthand what it's like to have someone young and vulnerable screaming for their lives in the middle of the night.
I can't imagine being the one who has to endure the nightmare of being haunted and forced, and having the people they trusted betray them in the worst way.
After two and a half hours, Oz emerges from surgery. Dr. Kristi Carrington, a young woman who seems barely out of high school, comes to inform me of his condition.
“He’ll make a full recovery, but he’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. Bahir told me to keep this quiet, so I need you to secure safe transport for him before our chief of staff gets wind of this.”
“Gotcha.” I turn to the man still dozing under anesthesia, waiting for her to leave — plausible deniability and all that.
“Aye,” I say, getting Rocco on the line. “Send someone this way with an ambulance, or a van with a gurney. We need to get him out of here before it gets too hot.”
Thirty minutes later, with Oz heavily sedated for the trip, we head back to Shelby-Love.
It’s not lost on me at all that I’m saving the life of the man I once swore to kill.
3 days later…
“You’re back?” I ask Angel stepping into his office at MC.
“Yeah,” he huffs, “at least until that asshole gets gone. Easy bout sick of me arguing with him, kinda took his side too, talking about he could have died and how he put his life on the line. I’m like we all did.
He was the dummy who didn’t stop and get patched up after he got stabbed.
He could’ve put the entire mission in jeopardy dying out there. ”
Shaking my head at his rant, I take a seat on his suede patchwork sofa. “I hope you didn’t say it like that, hermano.”
“Yep. She’s even got Lourdes helping take care of him now that Mimi’s pregnant again and Santiago doesn’t want her traveling all over the county.” Throwing me a surly glance over the stack of papers on his desk. It’s all club business. We don’t mix el Diablo with anything legitimate.
“Look at this.” Handing me a sheaf of paper, he leans back, regarding me as I read through the material.
“The entire continent? They’re moving weight like that?” My gaze shoots up in time to see him nod.
They want to partner with our friends in the region and us as well. If we are successful, we can have tech in every region before any corrupt regime gets wind of it. Then the people will truly have a voice.” Rubbing his chin, I already know he has made up his mind.
“This ain’t cartel shit, though. This is entire countries.” I remind him.
“One country at a time or simultaneously, depending on how fast they want to move. It’s time for those with means to do something meaningful.” He smirks at his little play on words.
“Marriage changed you.” I don’t even try to keep the admiration out of my voice.
“Easy says it was always there.” Steepling his fingers under his chin, he regards me somberly. “It can change you too. But then you’ve always been a hero, Hadrián.”
Handing the papers back, I shift uncomfortably. “Marriage? Never. Hero? I don’t know about that.”
“So you’re just going to keep her hidden away and hope she never asks for more?
She deserves better than that.” His face tightens no different that if we were speaking of Lourdes.
Saban may as well be his sister, and no man wants to see his sister used and discarded.
Angel would kill for less, and I know if he thinks I’m hurting her — friend or not he’d try to put me in the ground.
“She deserves better than me, and one day she’s going to realize it. She’s still young, Angel. Her infatuation is going to wear off and she can make a clean break,” I leave out the fact I inked my name on her, claimed in the way of the club.
“Ah, fuck.” I swear, rising from my seat, agitated at the dumb shit I did.
“Saban knows what she wants. Has known for a while now, and that in one word, is you. She knows what you are and what you will do to keep her safe. You need to stop thinking the worst about yourself over some shit you were powerless to stop. Trust me, I’ve been there.”
“You were a kid. I was grown. Young but old enough to —”
“Get yourself killed? You almost died trying to save her. Now you need to decide to live, hermano. Stop living for ghosts.”