Chapter Seventeen
Max
“This explains how he’s been staying under the radar,”
Spike says, flipping through the papers Heidi gave us. Most are images that simply show visits that Cortez made to Chris’s house. Others are of printed manifests Heidi downloaded from Chris’s computer.
“And why none of the missing women have been found,”
Maverick adds darkly.
“He’s been using his shiny new shipping business to move his victims around without anyone asking questions.”
“Do you know what ports he’s running through?”
Foster asks, already typing furiously on his laptop.
“According to these manifests,”
Spike says, tapping the papers.
“he’s cycling shipments through Mexicali and San Diego. But the ones marked with red ink…they don’t match up with any legitimate cargo.”
“Ghost loads,”
Bones growls.
“Cover shipments. That’s where the girls are.”
The air in the room goes ice cold, heavy with rage. My fists clench, my mind locked on one person.
Bree.
Spike looks up from the folder, his voice low but hard.
“Foster, can you hack into their software and see if there’s been a shipment out in the past few hours?”
I hate the implications of what he’s saying. There’s a good chance that Cortez has already shipped Bree somewhere across the border.
Somewhere that it would take me weeks, if not months, to find her.
“Already on it,”
Foster says.
“There’s been no shipments since yesterday and no scheduled shipments until the day after tomorrow.”
“I’ve got someone sweeping the warehouse now,”
Maverick adds.
“So far, no signs of activity.”
Tank leans forward, arms folded tight.
“We already know Cortez doesn’t own property in Palm Springs. At least not under his name. Foster, did you find any connections here?”
Foster scowls at his screen.
“Didn’t even know he bought out half of Campton’s Shipping until recently. The name on record is Marcy Baldwin. No ties to Cortez that I can see.”
“What about Muerte?”
I cut in.
“He handled the dirty work. People don’t even know for sure if he’s dead. My bet? Cortez is still running his assets.”
The room falls silent. Foster’s head snaps up, eyes wide.
“Why the hell didn’t I think of that?”
he mutters, shaking his head as he dives back into the laptop.
I lean forward, my voice rough.
“Because we’ve all been thinking too damn small. Cortez doesn’t operate on paper. He operates in shadows. And Muerte’s assets? They’re the perfect cover. Ghost businesses. Fake owners. Nobody asking questions.”
“Damn,”
Spike growls, scrubbing a hand over his face.
“If that’s true, then Bree could be in any one of a dozen stash houses, warehouses, or hell…locked in some fucking basement.”
The thought rips through me like barbed wire. I force my fists to unclench before I punch a hole through the table.
“Then we find which one. I don’t give a fuck if it means tearing this city apart brick by brick.”
“Wait.”
Foster freezes, his eyes narrowing at the screen.
“There’s something here. A property deed that traces back to one of Muerte’s shell companies. It’s in Palm Springs. Rural outskirts. No utilities on file, no traffic in or out for the last six months. But the deed was quietly renewed two weeks ago.”
“Bingo,”
Maverick says, his tone flat and deadly.
“That’s where he’s keeping her.”
“Not just her,”
Bones rumbles, his jaw like stone.
“If Cortez has been using Muerte’s old shit, that place could be holding all the missing women.”
The air shifts…heavier, darker, but sharper too. A room full of predators finally catching the scent of blood.
“No…remember,”
I snap, jaw tight.
“The shipping manifest showed those women were likely already moved. This place won’t be where they end up forever.”
Foster doesn’t blink.
“Exactly. That’s the point. This site is the staging area. The safe room where victims are held until a ghost load moves them out.”
“Right now, we’re assuming that Cortez doesn’t know Bree’s a Shadow,”
Bones says.
“Let’s use that to our advantage. Go in quietly…and deadly. This could be our only chance to take this fucker down.”
Spike breathes slowly, the decision on his face.
“Foster, can you freeze any outbound calls or manifests tied to that property and the shipping company? Even for an hour?”
“I’ll create a phantom hold on the company,”
he nods.
“Nothing scheduled, but I’ll flag any truck that even tries to ping the system. As for the property, there aren’t any utilities on that I can find, but I can send you with a jammer. It will stop any outgoing and incoming calls.”
“Tank and Knuckles,”
Spike says, nodding.
“You’re on compound security. Two roadblocks. One north, one south. I don’t want Cortez or anyone else watching this place and waiting for a moment to strike. I want the girls and Asher down below.”
The men nod; Tank’s already on his phone.
“Skip?”
Spike turns to him.
“Keep the local chatter contained. Make sure the neighbors don’t freak and call a hundred cops. We need this quiet.”
“Got it.”
Skip grins, too light for the room.
“But I want my moment with little Chris.”
“You can’t kill him,”
Spike warns.
“Bones already beat him nearly to death. Death’s too easy for what he did to his own daughter.”
“He’ll have fun in prison,”
Maverick says, a slow smile on his face.
“Prisoners don’t take kindly to pedophiles. Even those who help them. I’ll have my man make sure everyone knows why Chris’s going away.”
Skip’s grin fades into a curious edge.
“How many people do you have? Why do you have people? Who are you, man?”
Maverick only smiles and stays silent.
“Max, Bones, Maverick, and Foster…you four are with me,”
Spike says.
“We hit the property fast and quiet. Find Bree, clear anyone else, and get out. If Cortez is there…shoot to kill.”
“I can get drone footage over the house,”
Foster says, closing his laptop.
“Heat signatures should tell us how many people are inside.”
Maverick leans back, smirking.
“I want one of those.”
“For what?”
Skip shoots back.
“To keep tabs on your mysterious crew? Seriously, man. What the hell do you do?”
Maverick’s grin sharpens.
“They don’t call me the Outlaw because I play nice. I don’t follow rules. I make them.”
“Enough,”
Spike cuts him off, irritation rough in his tone. His gaze shifts to me.
“Max, how’s Lila?”
“She’s not good,”
I admit, jaw tight.
“Patch says her body’s been running on fumes for too long. The stress is pushing her past her limit, making her black out. If she keeps this up, she could fry her brain. As much as I hate leaving her in the dark, she needs to stay down below with Patch and the girls until we’re back. It’s the only way to keep her safe. Right now, Patch has her sedated, but he doesn’t want to administer a second dose.”
“Then saddle the fuck up,”
Spike orders, standing.
“We move now.”
Hold tight, baby girl. I’m coming.
***Bree***
Uncle Micah tells me scary stories all the time. He says they’re supposed to be scary, but they never really are. I like them. I think maybe he’s just not very good at making the scary parts scary.
But this…this is different.
The bad man left a long time ago, and now it’s just me in this room. At first I was brave. I tried to climb out the window, but it was too high.
Now it’s dark, and I don’t know where the light switch is. The door’s locked. I don’t hear any voices anymore. It’s so quiet, I think maybe everyone’s gone.
My legs are tired from sitting in one spot for a long time, but I don’t want to lay down. The ground is cold and smells funny, like old socks and dust. I hug my knees to my chest the way Mama taught me when I get scared. If I make myself small enough, maybe the shadows won’t see me.
I try humming one of the songs Mama sings when she brushes my hair. But my voice sounds too loud in the quiet, like even the walls are listening. I stop after a few words and bite my lip until it hurts.
What if nobody comes?
I tell myself stories the way Uncle Micah does. In my head, I make up a hero who kicks down the door and scares away all the bad guys. Sometimes the hero looks like Bones, with his big, scary face that never scared me. Sometimes he looks like Max, who makes me feel safe without even trying. Sometimes Mama, who loves me so much. I switch between them, because maybe they are all coming. Maybe.
The dark makes shapes on the walls, and I pretend they’re animals instead of monsters. One looks like a dog, but not like a friendly dog. This one has sharper teeth. Another looks like a bird with wings spread wide. I try to pretend it’s guarding me, not waiting to swoop down. My very own dragon.
My eyes sting, but I don’t want to cry anymore. So, I press my face against my knees and whisper.
“Max’s coming. Mama’s coming. Someone’s coming.”
Over and over, until the words sound like a magical spell.
And then…
A sound. Heavy boots against the floor. My heart jumps so fast I almost choke.
The doorknob rattles. Light floods the room like someone opening a picture frame. For a second, I think it’s a hero, like in my stories.
But it’s not.
It’s him.
The bad man.
The one my daddy said I would be safe with.
His shadow fills the doorway, and the look on his face makes my stomach twist. He’s so angry, like he wants to break something.
“I knew I couldn’t trust him,”
he growls, his words heavy and rough.
“Bastard thinks he can play me? What was his plan, huh? Put a tracker on you to lead that damn club right to me? Bueno. Good. I’ll take them all out at once. Sure, it moves my timeline up a bit, but I don’t mind. It’s a good thing I put cameras in his house, huh?”
He steps closer, and I scoot back until the wall stops me. There’s nowhere left to hide.
He crouches down, close enough that I can smell his breath. I thought his smile before was scary, but it’s nothing like this one. In the thin light spilling from the hall, his face looks like a true monster.
“I truly do hope the Shadows find you in time, Mija.”
His voice drops lower, almost a whisper.
“I didn’t want to hurt you, but they keep sticking their noses where they don’t belong. And that,”
he tilts his head.
“that pisses me off.”
He straightens and pulls something from behind his back. But it’s too dark for me to see what it is.
“I never would’ve guessed you were part of that club,”
he sighs.
“The thought never even crossed my mind. Which one is your mamá banging? The big guy? Tank? Or did Spike get tired of his woman and find another? I wonder if he’s the one coming for you. Or maybe Bones. Yeah…I need him out of the way. And Maverick. Oh, I do hope it’s Max. I wanted to kill him cara a cara, face to face, but this will have to do. Will all of them come for you? No es importante. Palm Springs will belong to me in the end. This is just a big step to make that happen.”
He lifts his hand, blocking out his face.
“I am sorry, Mija,”
he says softly.
“I will always be sorry for this. Little girls should be worshiped, not harmed.”
Does that mean he’s going to let me go? Does he like kids after all?
Then a bright flash. The worst pain I’ve ever felt explodes in my leg. I scream so loud it feels like my throat tears. It hurts so bad I don’t even notice him bending down again.
I don’t know how long I scream and cry. It feels like forever.
“Can you hear me now?”
the man asks.
My voice is gone, but I look up at him.
“Good.”
His eyes are cold.
“Now listen. The second your rescuers enter this house, no matter where they come in, it will activate a bomb that’s hidden so well no one will ever find it. It has a five-minute timer. That’s just enough time for them to find you, but not enough to get out. I’m telling you this because I want you to give them a final message for me.”
He leans closer.
“Tell them Cortez says…I win.”
He stands and walks out, closing the door behind him.
Once again, I’m in the dark. Alone. Scared. But this time, I’m hurt. I think he shot me. It doesn’t hurt as badly as before, though. I thought being shot was supposed to hurt for a long time? The pain is almost gone already. I must be a pretty strong girl. But it is colder now, and I think that’s making me sleepy. I think I’ll lie down on the nasty floor and sleep, after all.
I can’t keep my eyes open, but I have to remember something important for when my new family comes to get me.
Bomb…there’s a bomb…get out…bomb.