Chapter 32
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
GABE
Marco and I crouched in the bushes outside the front of the small warehouse where the hostage, Derek Holman, was being held. We were waiting for word from Michael that he had rerouted the cameras and shut down the alarm system. Andrea was stationed in sight of the front entrance. Dante was back near the delivery door. Pete was on standby, waiting to find out which room Holman was being held in.
Holman had been taken from a company banquet at a hotel in the Croatian capital of Zagreb. The kidnappers had most likely drugged him. At least, that was what it looked like on the hotel security camera footage. They would have gotten away clean, except Holman’s company required all its overseas employees to carry geo trackers on them at all times. His wife had told us he had trackers embedded in the soles of his shoes and always carried one on his person.
I gave the man credit for being smart. The kidnappers found the tracker in Holman’s pocket and threw it and his cell phone in the trash at the hotel. They didn’t bother checking anywhere else.
Holman’s company had alerted the Croatian authorities when they got the alert that his tracker was showing him leaving the city at a high rate of speed even though his cell phone was showing he was in the hotel. Unfortunately, the kidnappers were able to make it over the border into Slovenia before the police could catch them, making Holman’s rescue our problem.
Michael’s voice came over the comms. “We have four targets. Two are patrolling the warehouse. They’re armed with AK-47s. The other two are in the security office at the far end of the building with the hostage. Holman is handcuffed to a chair in the corner. One target is sitting in a chair, watching the monitors. There’s a handgun on the desk in front of him. The other is standing by the door. He has an AK-47 as well. There’s a window in the room that looks to be about five feet up the wall. It’s big enough for Pete to get through, but he’ll need a boost.”
“Hey!” Pete objected. “Are you calling me short?”
“If the shoe lift fits…” Dante quipped.
“Settle down,” Marco grumbled. “Will he be able to open the window from the outside?”
“Looks like it,” Michael replied. “It’s a regular double pane window, and it’s not latched.”
“Never correct your enemy when he’s making a mistake,” I muttered.
“Truth,” Marco agreed. “Michael, do you have control of the exterior cameras?”
“Of course,” he replied, sounding offended. “They’re on a loop. You can go in whenever you’re ready.”
“Dante, you’re up,” Marco said. “Andrea, stand by.”
“Roger that,” they both replied.
Dante’s target was patrolling the back of the warehouse, stepping outside every fifteen minutes or so to scan the back parking lot and the road leading to the warehouse. I heard Michael say, “He’s heading outside now, Dante.”
There was no sound from Dante but the soft pop of his suppressed rifle. “Target terminated. You’re up next, A.”
“Roger that,” she replied
Andrea was our sniper. She had to hit her target as he passed by the glass front doors. It required an incredible amount of precision to calculate the shot and account for the wind and the warping of the glass. I couldn’t see her from my position, but I heard the sound of glass shattering.
“Target terminated.”
“Good work, both of you,” Marco said. “Dante, head over to help Pete get into position.”
“Roger that, Chief.”
“Andrea, take our six when Gabe and I enter the building.”
“Roger that. I’ll be right behind you.”
Marco and I made our way across the front parking lot to the now smashed front doors of the warehouse. I would have felt bad for the owner, except his brother was one of the kidnappers. Michael had gotten a picture of him walking Holman down a hallway to the exit stairs from the hotel security cameras. It didn’t take him long to connect him to the owner of the warehouse, who appeared to be into some shady shit himself.
We pulled open the doors and stepped over the glass on the floor. The body of one of the kidnappers lay sprawled on the floor in the entryway. There was a wall between the front offices and the main warehouse that ended just before a two-truck loading dock. Marco and I stopped at the end of the wall, listening for anyone walking around in the warehouse.
Marco tapped his comms. “Michael, what’s the status of the two in the room with Holman?”
“They’re both in the same position. I have all the cameras on a loop.”
“What cover do we have out there?” Marco asked.
“There’s a row of fully loaded pallets down the middle of the room. They’ll give you enough cover, and you’ll still be able to see the door to the security room.”
“Copy that.”
Marco gestured for me to follow him. Andrea would take up a position that enabled her to guard our backs. We got into position behind a pallet directly across from the security room door. “What’s your status, Pete?” Marco asked.
“I’m at the window. I’ve got it open a crack. It moves easily, so I should be able to open it quickly when the time comes.”
“Copy that.”
As we waited, I got a closer look at the boxes on the pallets. What the fuck? “These are arms shipping cases,” I whispered.
Marco’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know?”
I peeled back a label on the box closest to me. “Fake labels. Look familiar?”
He looked at the writing under the label. “Russian. I’ll be damned. Good catch.”
“And all the more reason to get the fuck out of here quickly. Want me to draw them out?” I asked.
Marco nodded. “If they don’t open the door in the next five minutes, yeah.”
Michael’s voice came over the comms. “We might have to speed up our timeline. The leader’s on the phone with someone. I know Serbian, not Slovenian, but it sounds like he’s asking for help.”
“How do you know Serbian?” Marco asked.
“I had to learn it the last time we were in the Balkans. Remember?” Michael replied. “I pick up languages when I can because I never know where we’re going to end up.”
“Fair point,” I said.
Marco unholstered his sidearm. “All right. Gabe’s going to create a disturbance. Everyone be ready.”
“Roger that,” they all replied.
Marco gave me the signal to go. I moved silently across the warehouse floor to the security room door. I hammered on the door with my fist loud enough to wake the dead, then plastered myself against the outer wall and waited. It wasn’t long before the guy with the AK-47 flung the door open and shouted something in what I assumed was Slovenian. He spun around with his weapon pointed at me. I shot him right between the eyes.
“I’m in the room,” Pete whispered. “I’m covering Holman.”
The last kidnapper rushed out of the room, saw me, and ran back inside, slamming the door behind him. I heard him shout in English, “I’ll kill him!”
Before I could follow him into the room, there was the sound of a handgun firing. “Shit!” I threw open the door to find the last kidnapper flat on his back on the floor, eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. I blew out a relieved breath. “Target terminated. Good job, Pete.”
“Good work, everyone,” Marco said. “Let’s move out. Grab your bullet casings now if you haven’t already.”
“I already have mine,” Andrea said from behind us.
“Same,” Dante said through the comms.
Pete got his from the security room floor and Marco picked up mine. We quickly got Holman out of the handcuffs and out of the building, taking the keys and the handcuffs with us. We wiped down the arms of the chair to make sure Holman’s fingerprints weren’t left behind. I enjoyed the idea of leaving a mystery for the criminal brother to find.
Crossing back into Croatia was a lot easier than crossing into Slovenia had been. We made it back to Zagreb in thirty minutes. Holman was in shock but otherwise unharmed. He kept thanking us profusely for saving his life. “It’s what we do,” I said.
We’d arranged for the hotel to pack up Holman’s belongings so we could head straight to the airport. It was all waiting for him when we got on the company’s private plane. Holman’s cell phone was still in one piece, and the first thing he did when he got it back was call his wife and burst into tears. Andrea ushered him into one of the small bedrooms for some privacy. Everyone else stowed their bags and took their seats while the flight attendants served them food and drinks from the onboard galley kitchen.
I grabbed a sandwich and a bottle of water, suddenly realizing how hungry I was. I scanned the passenger area and noted all my companions had made themselves comfortable. Michael and Marco were having an intense conversation on the other side of the plane. Pete and Andrea were sitting close to each other and speaking quietly. Dante was reading a book. Liam was talking to someone on his cell phone, a concerned frown on his face. After I finished my food, I collapsed into my seat with a groan, buckling my seatbelt to get ready for takeoff. “Holy shit, that was a long day.”
I closed my eyes, already feeling the pull of sleep as the noise of the engines rose and the plane taxied down the runway. I couldn’t wait to get back home. To get back to Nico. It felt good to have someone to go home to. I hadn’t known I needed that until now.
I was startled awake by someone putting their hand on my shoulder. I reached for a sidearm that wasn’t there. “Settle down, it’s just me,” Marco said. He was sitting in the seat facing me.
I rubbed my eyes. “What the fuck? I was sleeping.”
“I know,” he replied. “But I have something to tell you. It’s important.”
I did not like his tone of voice. “What is it?”
He pursed his lips. “It’s about Nico.”
My stomach twisted, and I felt sick. I could feel the blood drain from my face. “What happened?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper. All I could think of was hearing about Benji after he’d been killed on a mission.
“Shit.” Marco grabbed my hand. “He’s okay. I swear.”
I pulled my hand away from his. “Why the fuck didn’t you say that first?”
“I’m sorry,” he said, his face a mask of contrition. “I was trying to ease into it.”
“Ease into what?” I asked, my voice rising on every word. “What. Happened?”
“Nico was attacked. He was hurt, but he’s fine. He just needed a few stitches.”
“I swear to god, Marco. If you don’t tell me what happened, I’m going to open the fucking door to this plane and throw you out.”
Liam came over and put his hand on Marco’s shoulder. “Sweetheart, you suck at this. Let me explain it to Gabe. I talked to the person who treated Nico.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Marco grumbled. He got up and offered his seat to his boyfriend. “I’m going to get a drink.”
“Bring me back something,” Liam said.
I focused on the sweet man who’d won Marco’s heart and ratcheted down my anger. “Please tell me what happened to Nico.”
Liam nodded solemnly. “Like Marco said, he was attacked.” He then proceeded to tell me about how Nico was jumped by three guys but fought them all off.
I swallowed the bile that rose to my throat. “He was stabbed?”
Liam nodded. “But it was through his heavy winter coat, so it didn’t go deep. Jon stitched him up and sent him home with antibiotics.”
“And Tony is working on finding out who did it?” I asked.
Marco came back and set a beer on the table in front of me. He handed another to Liam and settled himself next to me. After taking a long pull of his own beer, he said, “Yeah. Nico is pretty sure it’s related to Russell Smith. Nico identified him at the New Year’s Eve party and told the police about him. He said one of the guys called him a snitch.” He shifted in his chair, a deep frown creasing his brow. “Nico said they threatened Cody.”
White-hot rage settled like a ball of fire in my gut. I nodded. “I’m going to kill them all.”