Chapter 32 #2
Rafe angled left, scanning the aisles between storage cages.
Delgado drifted right, his weapon tracking the dark corridors that branched toward the utility doors.
Brian focused his attention on the door to their left.
It was ajar just enough to let a narrow band of yellow light through, but not enough to expose either side.
From deeper inside, a man laughed.
The sound bounced off concrete and metal.
Across the basement, Bowden and Bravo emerged silently from the secondary stairwell, moving low and deliberate between storage cages. No footsteps echoed. No gear rattled. Just controlled, measured progress.
Hawk caught Bowden’s eye and pointed to the open door. The captain gave a small nod and led his team toward it. Everyone’s head was on swivel, making sure no one could sneak up on them.
Both teams closed the distance to their target room without crossing fields of fire. They stacked up in position along the wall on either side of the doorway.
Hawk pulled a small retractable mirror from his pocket, extended the handle, then angled the round end so he could see inside the room in the reflection.
Everyone stilled.
Since Hawk needed both hands for the mirror and signals, his Colt M4 assault rifle hung at his side on its tactical sling, leaving him temporarily exposed yet still allowing him to grab it quickly.
Brian shifted behind him, his 9mm handgun trained on the door in case it opened suddenly. On the other side, Bowden did the same.
Hawk lifted his hand with all fingers extended, confirming five hostiles.
He lowered his palm to knee height, angled two fingers to indicate the left side of the room, then cupped his hand over his own head—Tess was sitting or lying on the floor against the left wall, wearing some kind of hood.
Finally, the man tapped two fingers to his sternum three times, signifying proof of life.
Thank God. She was alive but incapacitated. If she had a hood on, she was most likely restrained as well.
Hawk shifted the mirror again, mapping positions of the gang members with more subtle hand signals—two guys were seated to the right, one pacing the center of the room, one stood along the far wall, and one sat closest to Tess.
As he tucked the mirror back into his pocket, someone inside spoke—self-assured and threatening. “Better hope your brother did what he was told to do, bitch.”
Brian’s stomach tightened as he recognized the voice.
Diego.
There was a faint shuffle. Footsteps. Someone made a hacking noise and then spit.
When Diego spoke again, he was closer to the door. “Time’s up, Bing. Is it done?” He was on the phone with Andy, but they could only hear one side of the conversation.
Brian checked his watch.
00:03:02
The call was early. Most likely, Diego was impatient and decided it was close enough to an hour.
Their time was up.
As Diego cussed Andy out and made threats, Brian met Bowden’s eyes.
Now!
The captain made the small circling motion with his hand. From behind him, Brooks stepped to the side, flash-bang in hand. Brian adjusted his footing, settling into muscle memory. Tess wouldn’t know what was coming. She wouldn’t be able to brace.
Three.
Two.
One—the flash-bang was tossed through the doorway. Both teams angled their bodies away, eyes averted from the blast.
The detonation hit like a physical shove—a blinding white pulse of light followed by a concussive crack that rattled Brian’s teeth even from around the door jamb.
The shock wave thumped through his chest, dust shaking loose from the ceiling as the sound ricocheted through the basement.
The sharp scent of burnt magnesium and hot metal filled the air, mixing with shouted curses and a female scream.
The team moved before the echo finished bouncing off the walls.
Bowden pushed the door wide. Hawk entered first, cutting right, while Brian followed half a step behind, spinning left, weapon up and steady. Both shouting at the gang-bangers to drop their weapons and get on the ground. “SBI! Drop your weapons!”
The room was in chaos.
Smoke lingered as three men staggered blindly, hands clamped over their ears. Another dropped to his knees, blinking hard and swaying.
Diego was near Tess—still on his feet with a gun in his hand.
The cell phone lay on the concrete at his feet, screen lit, sliding in a slow arc before coming to rest. He looked off-balance for a split second—shoulders uneven, knees slightly bent—but he recovered fast. His eyes were unfocused, blinking against the white haze, yet his grip on the pistol tightened.
He pivoted toward the doorway. Toward the SBI agents.
Brian didn’t think—just reacted—and fired once.
The report cracked sharp and thunderous in the enclosed space.
The bullet struck clean and true. The man’s head snapped back, and blood, gray matter, and splinters of bone splattered on the concrete wall behind him like a piece of grotesque abstract art that no one would choose to hang.
His body collapsed sideways like a two-hundred-pound sack of wet cement, boneless and heavy, hitting the floor with a dull, final thud.
He scanned his side of the room for any other threats, knowing Sean, Rafe, and the others covered his back.
No other shots were fired.
More commands were barked.
“Drop your weapons!”
“Get on the ground!”
“Drop your fucking weapons!”
Metal clattered.
One gun. Then another.
“On the ground! Hands behind your head!”
The remaining kidnappers complied quickly, blinking through disorientation. The SRT members moved with practiced precision, kicking weapons away, securing wrists, and forcing bodies flat.
Brian didn’t spare them another glance.
His focus was locked on Tess.
She lay on her side near the west wall, the hood still covering her head, wrists bound behind her, and ankles tied.
Despite her eyes being shielded from the flash of bright light, she was still hit by the concussive blast. Her breathing was rapid and shallow as she wrestled with her restraints, trying to escape.
She had no idea what had just happened.
No idea who was in the room.
No idea if the gunshot had come from them—or from someone trying to kill her.
Brian crossed the space in three strides, holstered his weapon, and dropped to a knee beside her. He reached for the hood covering her face, desperate to get it off her but knowing he had to be mindful of any injuries.
“Tess, baby. It’s me. Are you all right? Tess?”
“Better hope your brother did what he was told to do, bitch.” The voice of the man Andy had called “Diego” came from somewhere nearby. Too close.
Tess flinched, the words slicing through her already frayed nerves. She swallowed hard, praying Andy had gotten a hold of Brian, who would know what to do.
Footsteps moved away from her. Slow. Unhurried. Confident.
She strained against the zip ties at her wrists, the plastic still biting into raw skin. They hurt like hell, and blood dripped onto her fingertips. Her ankles were numb from being bound too long. Her body ached, and every small movement made it ten times worse.
“Time’s up, Bing. Is it done?”
He was on the phone.
Her pulse spiked. She couldn’t hear Andy—only Diego’s side of the conversation. The silence between his words was worse than anything.
A low growl vibrated from his chest.
“What do you mean you’re still working on it?” he snapped.
Tess’s stomach dropped.
“No, I don’t care how—” Diego cut himself off, breathing hard through his nose. “You stupid piece of shit!”
Panic wormed its way to the forefront of Tess’s brain, her thoughts blurring at the edges. Her lungs felt too small, and dizziness washed over her.
He was angry.
Angry meant unpredictable.
She twisted slightly, trying to orient herself, but the hood stole all direction. Light and dark blurred together through the fabric. The basement air suddenly felt heavier, stale, and suffocating.
“Don’t play with me, Bing,” Diego barked. “You think I won’t—”
His footsteps came closer again.
Her heart began to pound so hard, she thought it might explode.
“I’ll put a bullet in her head and send you the video,” he snarled. “You think I won’t?”
Tess sucked in a shaky breath.
This was it.
He meant it.
She tried to shift, to roll, to get her head out of the way—anything—but the restraints held tight. Her shoulders burned from where she’d been dragged earlier and her current position. Her cheek throbbed where she’d been hit.
“Say goodbye,” Diego said, his voice cold now.
Her body shook uncontrollably, and she lost control of her bladder. There wasn’t room for shame—only terror. She was about to die.
She braced herself, praying it wouldn’t be painful. Praying Andy wouldn’t blame himself. That he would recover from another devastating loss of a loved one and somehow move on with his life, becoming someone she and her parents would be proud of.
Her lungs froze, then—
Something clattered across the floor.
A metallic scrape.
A half second of confusion.
And the world exploded.
The blast was blinding even through the hood—white light burning through the fabric like the sun pressed against her face. The noise that followed wasn’t just loud—it was violent. A crack that punched the air from her lungs and ripped through her skull.
She screamed as the shock wave hit her body like a vicious shove, rolling hard onto her side. Her shoulder slammed against concrete, breath knocked out of her.
Her ears rang—high, sharp, and endless.
For a moment, there was nothing but that ringing. Then pandemonium bled through it.
Heavy footsteps moving fast.
Men yelling.
Someone cursing.
She couldn’t tell what was happening.
Her heart leapt into her throat.
A single gunshot cut through the cacophonous din—
Close.
Sharp.
Final.
Her body went rigid, and she waited for the pain and darkness that was sure to follow.
But neither came.
Something large and heavy dropped beside her with a sickening thud, close enough that the impact vibrated through her ribs.
“SBI! Drop your weapons!”
“On the ground! Now!”
The voices were different. Commanding. Clear. And definitely not Diego. Not any of the others she’d heard over the last hour or two—or however long she’d been there.
“Hands behind your head!”
None of the words registered at first. It was all a jumbled mess inside her brain.
She lay there trembling, the hood still over her face, her ears ringing, and her heart trying to break out of her chest.
Someone moved close enough that she felt the air shift. Her name was spoken softly, barely audible over the clamor.
Brian?
Oh, please tell me I’m not imagining him!
The hood was quickly but carefully lifted. Fluorescent light stabbed at her eyes, and she blinked against the sudden brightness, her vision swimming. The air was thick with smoke and dust, and she coughed as her lungs searched for clean, fresh air.
And then she saw him. Brian.
Kneeling beside her.
He pulled out a knife and quickly cut through her restraints.
Her aching arms and shoulders dropped the second the zip ties snapped, the sudden freedom sending a rush of fire through muscles that had been locked too long.
Pins and needles stabbed down to her fingertips, sharp and merciless, and she gasped as blood flooded back into numb hands.
It hurt to move them—hurt like she’d been torn apart and stitched back together wrong—but beneath the pain was something stronger.
Relief.
She was free and could move, but her stiff legs weren’t ready to be of use yet. She flexed her fingers slowly, wincing, then lifted her arms shakily as if proving to herself they still belonged to her.
His hands were on her now—gentle but urgent—his frantic gaze scanning her face, arms, and legs.
“Tess, look at me,” he said, voice tight with controlled intensity. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head, though the movement made the room tilt. “N-no.” Her voice was hoarse, barely audible. “Nothing serious.” At least she didn’t think so.
He still checked her over, his fingers moving carefully along her shoulders, down her sides, assessing for anything he might have missed. He gently lifted her forearms, turning her wrists toward the light.
The skin was torn and raw where the zip ties had bitten in. Blood smeared across swollen flesh.
His jaw tightened, and a low, dangerous sound rumbled in his chest. His gaze slid past her shoulder, and she turned her head to follow it.
A man she assumed was Diego lay sprawled on the ground with a small, dark bullet hole centered in his forehead, his eyes open and vacant.
The red-and-gray spray fanned across the concrete wall told the rest of the story—there was a far larger exit wound at the back of his skull. She didn’t need to see it to know.
Brian’s expression hardened, something dark and feral flashing there before he dragged it back under control. “I wish I could kill him again for what he did to you—for even thinking of touching you.”
She wished he could, too, but it was bad enough she lived through it once. No way did she want to experience it again. “You came.”
His eyes widened as they returned to her face. “Of course I did, baby.”
For a moment, nothing else existed but the two of them on that cold concrete floor. He brushed his thumb beneath her eye, wiping away a tear she hadn’t realized had fallen. “You’re okay, Tess. You’re okay.”
His voice cracked on the last word, and that was what finally broke her.
A sob tore loose from her chest, raw and uncontrolled. Tears blurred her vision as the terror she’d held back crashed through her all at once.
“I thought—” She couldn’t force the rest of it out, the words catching in her throat.
“I know. But it’s over. You’re safe.”
Safe.
It didn’t feel real until she threw herself forward and grabbed him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, fingers clutching the back of his vest as if he might vanish. He caught her immediately, one arm bracing her back, the other sliding up to cradle her head against his shoulder.
His heart hammered beneath her cheek.
She clung tighter and sobbed—deep, shaking sobs that wracked her entire body. The humiliation, the fear, the certainty that she was about to die—all of it poured out.
“I was so afraid you wouldn’t find me in time,” she whispered through broken breaths.
He tightened his hold just slightly and kissed the top of her head. “I will always find you. Always.”