15. Draven
Chapter 15
Draven
While skirting along the edge of the warehouse, I make sure to stay in the shadows. There aren’t any windows on this side of the building, nor the front opposite where Louise and I had waited.
A smile tugs at my lips. There’s no doubt her anger will build while I’m gone, and I fully expect payback when I return. I can’t wait. The idea of a raging Lola turns me on. The angrier she becomes, the harder my dick gets. I hope the women are being kept here, for their sake, for Lola’s, and selfishly, for mine. I’m desperate to fuck her, but when I get her into my bed, I want no distractions, no mind wandering, no guilt.
It occurs to me that behind Louise’s rants is an element of concern for me, and that my welfare matters to her. I rub a fist against my sternum, uncomfortable with the thought she might care that much, yet touched at the same time.
Forcing my mind back to the job at hand, I draw to a halt, holding my breath as I peer around the back of the property. Damn. The third man we’d seen outside Shala’s club is leaning against a wall smoking a cigarette, the tip glowing orange in the pitch black. He shifts his weight, rests one foot against the wall, then blows white plumes into the night air.
I estimate there’s ten feet between us, which is too far to try and take him down with a surprise attack, and using my gun will only attract more attention. I need to get through that door, though. Only by checking the inside of the warehouse will I know whether we have enough intel to call in the cops.
Bending down, I pick up a rock, throw it, and wait. Sure enough, I hear the unmistakable sound of a gun being cocked, then footsteps coming my way. I slip my own gun into the back of my jeans.
The art of surprise is the biggest weapon when taking someone down. The guy doesn’t even see it coming. I disarm him, lock my forearm around his throat, and cut off his air supply in around five seconds, with minimal noise.
Result.
Taking a roll of duct tape from my inside pocket—yep, I came prepared. A fact I’d kept from Louise—I tape the guy’s ankles, hands, and mouth, then drag him over to some bushes to leave him lying face down. They’re not impossible to escape from, but by the time he does, either this place will be crawling with cops, or I’ll have found nothing, and Louise and I will be long gone.
I pocket the guy’s gun, take mine out, and slip inside the open door. All lights are off except for a white glow on the far left hand side of the vast, empty space. Skirting the perimeter, I make my way toward it. As carefully as possible, I press down on the door handle and ease it open, braced to take down anyone I find inside. The room turns out to be a small office with a desk, a chair, and a lamp, which must be the light I saw when I first entered the building, but there’s no sign of anyone.
Another door leads into a hallway, and at the far end, a metal spiral staircase leads down to… a basement. Color me fucking shocked. With blood pumping around my body—God, I live for this shit—I creep down the stairs.
Once I reach the lower level, I pause and allow my eyes to adjust to the darkness. When it does, I’m faced with row upon row of cages lined up against the left-hand wall. I tiptoe forward, stopping in front of the first one. Inside, a woman lies on her back on top of a filthy, stained mattress, her wrists and ankles shackled to an iron bedstead. She’s completely naked and appears to be asleep, or drugged.
I move on to the second, the third, the fourth—each one a replica of the last. Naked women chained to their beds, all completely out of it.
Blood pounds in my ears. These fuckers deserve to burn in Hell, and if I have my way, they will. Sliding my phone from my pocket, I curse. There’s no signal. I should go back up top and call it in.
Then again, I never have liked following the rules.
Tiptoeing past the women, I find the one I’m looking for inside the twelfth cage.
Kiera.
Like all the others, Kiera is shackled, her head turned to the side and eyes tightly shut. Even in the dim light, I catch an angry bruise across her right cheek, and several welts to her body where it looks like someone’s used a whip on her. She must’ve fought them, and they punished her.
But she’s alive. We can fix everything else, with the right help in place for her. It’ll take time, but as long as she’s breathing, there’s hope.
Her cell is locked with a chain and a padlock. Rudimentary. Easy to break into.
Glancing over my shoulder to make sure I’m still alone, I pick the lock within ten seconds. The chain clanks as I slide it through the metal door. Grimacing, I set it on the floor and open the door. Dropping to a crouch beside Kiera, I give her shoulder a gentle shake, but she doesn’t even flinch. Now I’m closer, I can make out track marks in the crooks of both elbows. She’s definitely been drugged, probably to keep them all quiet or compliant, or so out of it they can be subjected to anything and not stand a chance of fighting back.
I unfasten the restraints on her wrists and ankles as easily as I had the padlock to the cage. Shrugging out of my jacket, I cover her as best I can and lift her into my arms before I stride back toward the staircase. I send a silent apology to the rest of the women while promising to bring help soon.
I reach the top of the stairs without incident, but as I go through the door that leads back to the office, a man’s voice calls out.
“Samir, ku je ferri?”
With nowhere to go, other than returning to the cells, I barely have time to shift Kiera’s weight and draw my gun before the door opens. I fire, hitting the guy square in the chest. His eyes widen in shock, and he drops his chin, staring down at the rapidly spreading blood stain.
“Kush jane…” His legs buckle, and he collapses to the floor.
“Fuck,” I expel.
Stepping over the body, I reenter the main warehouse space. Gunfire goes off to my left. My arm explodes with pain, and I almost drop Kiera, but I manage to send a volley of bullets in the general direction of where I think the assailant might be before I sprint for the exit. More gunfire follows, with multiple foreign voices screeching out their orders.
I stumble outside, with Kiera’s dead weight becoming a problem. Another bullet whizzes past my ear, too fucking close for comfort. With few options, I set her on the ground as gently as I can and spin around, firing my weapon. The shooter chasing me slumps to the ground. Hoping there’s only three in total—two shot, possibly dead, and one incapacitated—I pick up Kiera once more.
And that’s when I notice blood spurting from her thigh.
“Draven?”
I whirl around to find Louise holding her arm up high, her knuckles white from gripping the hilt of a knife. Her gaze falls on the woman in my arms, and a gasp bursts out of her.
“Kiera? Oh, God, Kiera.”
“Go get the car,” I bark. When she doesn’t move, I yell, “Now, Louise! And do it quick! I’ll make as much headway as I can on foot.”
“What… how?”
“Save the questions for later, and fucking move.”
She takes off running. By the time I reach halfway to where we left Louise’s vehicle, I’m blinded by oncoming headlights. A car slows to a halt, and Louise clambers out. She opens the backdoor, and it’s then she sees the bloodstain on her sister’s leg.
“She’s been shot!”
I lay Kiera on the backseat. “I know. Get in with her. I’ll drive. I don’t think it’s hit an artery, but see if you can tie it off, anyway.”
Louise clambers in after Kiera, and I get in the driver’s side. Even pushing the seat the entire way back still doesn’t give me a lot of room for driving. I spin the car around, tires screeching, and floor the gas.
“Kiera, it’s okay, honey. It’s Lola. I’m here. You’re going to be okay.”
I glance in the rearview mirror. Louise is bending over her sister, her ear next to Kiera’s mouth.
“Oh, God, Draven, get us to the hospital. Please. Her breathing… it’s so faint.”
“Keep talking to her.” I wrestle to get my cell out of my pocket while trying to keep the car as steady as possible. I dial Rick’s number. After a few rings, Rick’s sleepy voice comes on the line.
“Rick, listen up. We’ve found the women.”
A rustle of bedclothes and the click of a lamp being illuminated is followed by, “Shit, you have? Where? How?”
“They’re at the docks. Warehouse number 72. It looks empty, but there’s a basement. That’s where the women are. I need you to get the feds crawling all over that place stat. I put a bullet in two of the perps. No idea if they’re still alive, but they’ll be incapacitated, for sure. One is in the bushes out back, tied up. Tell the feds to go easy. No need to go in all guns blazing. Send the paramedics, too. They all require medical attention for drugs and fuck knows what else.”
“Hang on. Catch me the fuck up, will you?”
“No time to explain right now. I’ll write it up later. Louise and I are on our way to the hospital with her sister. I gotta go.” I toss my phone on the passenger seat and glance once more into the rearview mirror. Louise’s lips are moving, but I can’t make out the words. It’s then I realize she’s singing a lullaby.
Entranced, I almost miss the turn off for the hospital but somehow sling the car around a corner, the unexpected movement sending white-hot pain through my arm. I hiss, and a wave of nausea washes over me.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. A flesh wound, that’s all.”
I park the car right in front of the entrance to the Emergency Room. Louise climbs out of the car, and I lean inside, lifting Kiera into my arms.
“We need help here!” I holler as we burst through the doors into the waiting area. A passing nurse takes one look at Kiera and gestures for a gurney.
“What’s her name?”
“Kiera Rhodes,” Louise says. “I’m her sister. Please is she… is she…”
The nurse squeezes Louise’s arm. “We’ll take good care of her. If you can give as many details to the patient representative as possible, that would be helpful.”
I lay Kiera on top of the gurney, and they wheel her away. Louise doesn’t take her eyes off her sister until the gurney disappears into a nearby room, then she bobs from foot to foot, nibbling on the skin around her fingernails.
I put my arm around her shoulder. “Let’s get her checked in.”
With quiet dignity, Louise fills in the forms, answers every question, but as we walk over to the waiting area, she stops, tips back her head, and peers up at me. Her eyes glisten with unshed tears. “What happened, Draven? You said you were taking a look around. That’s all. A quick scout of the area.”
I shake my head. Now isn’t the time for recriminations. I did what I thought was right at the time. And, yeah, I wanted to save Kiera. For Louise.
I wanted to play the hero.
“There’s plenty of time to talk later. Let’s find out what we’re dealing with first.”
“I need to call my parents.” She sweeps a hand over her face. “They should be here in case she… in case she…”
A twinge of remorse tightens my chest, but I quickly push it aside. In my experience, regrets are pointless time sucks that do no one any favors. Sometimes risks pay off. Sometimes they don’t. If we’d called it in before I’d known what we were dealing with, and the women hadn’t been there, the feds would have come down hard on Louise for breaking protocol, and locked us both out of the case—probably by throwing our asses in jail. Once I saw her lying there on that filthy mattress, naked and drugged to the eyeballs, I couldn’t leave her. I just couldn’t. She looked too much like Louise, it would have been like leaving here there.
“Go call them. I’ll wait here in case there’s any news.”
Louise nods glumly, and her shoulders droop when she walks away from the busy reception area. As soon as she’s out of sight, I call Rick, who answers immediately, the sound of a car engine in the background meaning he’s definitely on the move.
“Where are you?” I ask.
“On route to the warehouse. The feds should be there by now. You’d better catch me up because if I’ve got dead bodies, I need to have an explanation at the ready.”
I start at the beginning while Rick listens quietly.
When I finish, he whistles through his teeth. “Sister gonna be okay?”
“I don’t know. The gunshot to her leg didn’t look bad, but she was pretty out of it. All the women were. Heroin, I’d guess. Or meth, maybe.”
“How’s Louise holding up?”
“Not great. She’s on the phone to her parents now.”
“Fuck. Not a conversation I’d want to have.”
“No.”
“You should have called it in.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “Based on what? Until I found the warehouse and saw that the women were being kept in the basement, I only had a hunch to go on. You think the feds would move on a hunch?”
“We’ll never know now, will we?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Screw you, Rick. Whatever happens, I’m comfortable with what I did.”
“Jeez, that hit a nerve.”
“And on that note, I’m going. Call me when you know what’s happening.”
I hang up. Rick is a good friend, but he can also be irritating as fuck, and right now, I’m not in the mood to be spoken to like a goddamn child.
“Any news?”
I lift my head from where I’m glaring at my phone’s blank screen to find Louise standing in front of me. She’s pale as alabaster, and there are dried tears on her face.
I shake my head, indicating for her to take a seat. “How’re your parents?”
“Devastated. They’re on their way.” She gestures to my arm. “You should get that checked out.”
“Nah. Bullet barely kissed me. I’ll patch it up later.”
She bends forward, allowing her head to fall into her waiting hands, and her shoulders shake. I rub her back in comforting circles. I’d normally run a mile from weeping women, but Louise’s quiet distress brings out the protectionist in me. I’d give anything to take away her pain, except I can’t.
Without warning, she sits up straight and stiffens her spine. Dabbing the pads of her fingers to her damp cheeks, she dries her tears, then links her fingers together, laying them calmly in her lap. “I need to pull myself together. My parents will be here soon.”
“Hopefully by then, we’ll have good news.”
She nods somberly, falling into silence, with her gaze fixed on the wall on the far side of the reception area.
“I called Rick.”
She twists her head in my direction. “And?”
“Feds will be crawling all over the place by now. He’s going to call me as soon as he has news.”
“That’s good.” She nibbles on her bottom lip. “That’s good.”
More silence follows, so I leave her to her thoughts. For someone who likes to talk, a lot, her quiet reflection sounds louder than any conversation—compared to the roaring inside my own mind.
An hour later, a doctor appears and makes his way over to the waiting area. My chest tightens at his solemn expression. This doesn’t look good.
Louise shoots to her feet.
“Miss Rhodes?”
“Yes.” Her knuckles are white as she clenches her fists.
“Can you come with me, please?”
“My sister… is she… is she?” She trails off.
“Why don’t we go in here.” The doctor indicates to a door a few feet away that has ‘Family Room’ engraved on a brass plate.
She juts out her chin. “Just tell me, doctor.”
The doc’s gaze drifts to me, then back to her. “I do think it would be best if we went in here. Please.”
He walks away giving her little option other than to follow. This isn’t good news. If it was, he’d have told her in the waiting area.
“Will you come with me?” Her voice trembles, revealing how scared she is.
“Of course.”
Once inside the room, the doctor urges her to sit, taking the seat beside her while I remain standing.
He doesn’t mince his words. “I’m so sorry, Miss Rhodes. Your sister had a lethal combination of drugs in her system and, unfortunately, we were unable to save her.”
The air stills, as if we’re in the eye of a tornado where everything is calm and whisper quiet.
“No.” Her voice is whisper quiet. “No, that can’t be right. Please, keep trying. You have to save her. You have to. She’s my anchor.”
“I’m afraid she’s gone. I really am terribly sorry for your loss.”
A sob bursts from her throat, and I wince at the sound, at the pain carried along every note. She presses her palms to her face. “No.”
The doctor rises, and I slide into his seat. When he exits the family room, Louise collapses into my arms. I lose track of how long we sit there. I don’t speak, just do my best to comfort her. It’s not something I’m all that good at. Ciaran would be much better at this. Then again, if he was here and tried to comfort my girl, I’d punch him in the throat, best friend or not.
The door to the family room opens again, and a couple in their mid-fifties enter. I guess it’s Louise’s parents, which is confirmed when the woman says, “Lola.”
Louise’s head snaps up, and she rips herself out of my arms and launches herself at her parents.
“Lola, what’s happened?” Her mother captures her cheeks, her thumbs wiping away Louise’s tears. “Where’s Kiera? What’s happened?”
“Oh, Mom, Dad. She’s… she’s…” Another strangled sob shatters the air. “Oh, Mom. She’s gone.”
“What do you mean, gone?”
My strong, beautiful woman breaks down in front of my eyes. She sinks to her knees, her entire body wracked with the kind of grief I can only imagine. It’s agonizing to watch, but I do. It’s the least I owe her. Both her parents lift her up, and they surround her in their love, all three quietly crying together. I’m almost jealous they’re the ones who get to comfort her. I wish it was me. I’m also aware just how much of an asshole that makes me, although that’s not exactly news. I am an asshole, but she makes me less of one.
Collecting herself, Louise breaks free of her parents. “I’m so sorry, Mom. I’m sorry I couldn’t save her.”
“Oh, my baby.” Her mom hugs her again. “I want to see her. Can we see her?”
“I’ll find someone.” Her dad’s voice is rough as sandpaper.
“We’ll all go.” The three of them walk away.
“Louise?” I call out.
She glances over her shoulder. “Go home,” she says dully. “There’s nothing more you can do here.”
I watch her retreating back, rubbing a fist against the ache filling my chest.
Why do I feel as if I’ve lost her?