Chapter 5
Nocturnal creatures hissed and rattled in the desert night. Rami rolled down the passenger window and shot a look at Taschen, who was outside holding a tablet, trying to order the drone to life. The air was thick, but with the sun down, the temperature had dropped a bit. Come morning it’d be blazing hot. “You got that thing running yet?”
Eighteen hours in the car had Rami’s eyes burning. Between the three of them, they’d completed the drive two hours quicker than anticipated. Each of them had driven a six-hour shift, allowing the others to eat and rest.
The van was the newest vehicle in their fleet. Fully decked out with a bulletproof body and windows, it seated five people and had space in the back for equipment—or in the case of this mission, a mini medical area.
Most of the time, they relied on one of the SUVs to transport their clients, but the business was growing, and they now needed a larger range of vehicles.
As if on cue, the drone hummed to life and took flight from the ground. “Yup. She’s good to go.” The little device whizzed ten feet from the dirt with alien-like precision.
“Good.” The tension radiating along Rami’s shoulders loosened a touch as he got out of the van. They’d parked in the middle of nowhere, a good ten miles from the cartel compound—hopefully far enough to gauge their target without being spotted.
He strode up to Taschen and glanced at the screen over his friend’s arm. “We need to look for heat sources. Ground mines, dogs, guards, shit like that.”
Taschen grunted and met Rami’s stare. His gray eyes often startled people, they were so light and piercing. If it weren’t for the jagged scar that ran from temple to cheekbone, Taschen would’ve looked clean-cut enough to be an A-list actor.
The guy was an inch taller than Rami, maybe six foot three, and his glare was hooded beneath dark eyebrows. “And if she’s being kept inside the compound? Then what?”
Rami rubbed the back of his neck. “Then we’re fucked.”
Odds of them getting into the compound were slim to none and odds of them getting in and out were zilch.
The rear passenger door swung open and August groaned, stretching his arms overhead. His blond hair was disheveled and his eyes bloodshot. “You boys ready or what?”
“Tasch’s going in now.” Rami nodded at the device that would do the legwork.
August nodded. “Sweet.”
Taschen sent the machine skyward, and it zoomed west toward the cartel’s property.
“How much you wanna bet it gets shot down and we give ourselves away?” August said, with a hint of amusement.
“Let’s pray that doesn’t happen.” The black metallic spider left Rami’s sight and became inaudible. “If it’s above someone, will they hear it?”
“Nope. I’ll keep it at two hundred feet. It’s military grade and as silent as your mom’s vibrator.”
“Fucker,” Rami breathed. He’d have punched him but didn’t want to risk crashing the damn thing.
A couple minutes passed and Taschen stiffened. “Found something.”
“What?”
“Some land mines.”
Rami cursed. “You sure?”
“Yup. This thing’s got ground-penetrating radar. Looks like a few surrounding the grounds on the outside of the compound and a couple around this trailer. He pointed to the image on the screen.”
“Hold up,” Rami said. “According to the coordinates, that’s where Marty’s phone has been.” He flicked his gaze to August. “She still showing up there?”
They’d checked her location every few hours, and an hour ago, her device had still been there.
August opened the app on his phone and nodded. “Still there.”
“There’re three heat sources inside the trailer. Two close together, must be in a bedroom, and one in the center, near the back.”
“One of ’em could be Ivy.” August’s voice held urgency.
“Could be,” Rami conceded. There was a chance they were on a dead trail, but the more things fell into place, the greater the likelihood they were right. And if Ivy’s body was giving off heat, then she was alive.
“Landmines?” August asked.
Taschen nodded. “There’s a few. I’ll show you.”
Rami broke away from Taschen’s side and went to the back of the van. His gaze hit the blankets they’d turned into a makeshift bed, which they’d set up in case they found Ivy. Adrenaline pounded through his body in waves and his stomach clenched.
For the last eighteen hours, he’d doubted they’d find her. Doubted more she’d be alive. Part of him was pursuing the quest just to prove to Gigi that her sister was gone. In truth, he hadn’t mentally prepared himself for the reality of finding her in one piece.
And now they might have.
August approached and put on his gear, too. While Rami and August ambushed the camper, Taschen would stay in the van to keep a lookout and ensure a quick getaway.
Rami pulled his bulletproof vest over his head, shoved his arms into a holster, and packed a gun in the leather strap and then another at the small of his back. The knife he always carried was clipped to his belt. He pulled a headlamp onto his head and tested the light on his forehead before clicking it off.
Then he slung a canteen around his neck. Ivy would likely be dangerously dehydrated.
“Got your earbuds?” Taschen called.
Rami passed two to August and tucked one into his ear. August took one to Taschen, and they did a quick round of tests while keeping the drone on their target.
“How close can we get to the target without hitting the mines?” Rami asked, as he got in the driver’s seat. August climbed in the side of the van and Taschen took shotgun, still operating the drone from his tablet.
“I’d say a hundred yards or so,” Taschen said. “But I’ll tell you where to park.”
Rami turned over the ignition and steered the van in the direction of the coordinates on the GPS screen on the dash. The night was clear, and this far from city life the stars were bright, spread in a broad pattern across the sky. The moon was full, and its eerie white glow lit the darkness around them a little too much for Rami’s liking. He cut the headlights.
“What about guards or surveillance?” August asked from the bench seat in the back.
“There’re a bunch of heat sources around the perimeter of the compound, but I don’t see anyone watching over the camper.”
“Good.”
“Don’t be too relieved.” Rami flicked his gaze to the rearview mirror. “If they find out we’re here, they could be on us in minutes. We need to move in and out fast.”
August nodded. “Roger that.”
“Ditto,” Taschen said, from the front seat. “Park in half a mile.”
When Rami reached the spot next to the drone, he shifted into park. The camper was visible ahead. Not a single light shined from inside. “Quiet,” Rami said, lifting a finger. “Sound will carry from here, and I’m gonna bet in this heat, there’s a couple windows open.” He turned to Taschen. “What’s their position?”
“Unmoved.”
“I’ll hit the bedroom first,” August said, gun in hand. “You check the other person.” He went outside and Rami did the same, shutting the door softly.
Taschen also exited the vehicle with the tablet still in hand. He turned the screen to Rami and August. Three landmines showed where the metal detector picked up the small clusters. “If you head at a forty-five-degree angle you’ll be fine. There’s more landmines closer to the compound, but we’re not going that way.”
Rami grunted in agreement.
“Let me know if you need me or when you’re moving out,” Taschen said.
Rami gave one nod and met August as they moved away from the vehicle. Gravel crunched beneath their combat boots. He kept his AR-15 pointed at the ground, his finger near the trigger. His face was hot and damp. Sweat collected on his brow just below the headlamp, even though it was off.
They paused fifty yards from their target. The yellow-and-brown-striped camper sat in the middle of the desert. Odd, desolate-looking plants broke through the dusty terrain surrounding the unit. Rusted-out holes chewed through the sides of it, and two metal steps, also rusted to shit, hung below the door. The fact that people were inside made his skin crawl.
His throat tightened. He’d seen victims before. Severed limbs, bullet wounds, last prayers on bloody lips...
But this was different.
He’d never encountered human traffickers. If he did, he’d make sure he was the last person they saw.
“I got a smoke bomb,” August whispered. “I’m gonna hit the bedroom with that first.”
“Good call.” They needed to get close enough to the people inside to ensure they weren’t all victims. “Remember,” Rami continued, “we’re only getting Ivy out. If she’s not in there, then we’re done here.”
August’s silence did nothing to hide his hostility. Whether he agreed or not, though, that was the plan. “Got it?”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ got it.” August skirted toward the west side of the trailer, where the two heat sources had been spotted via the drone.
Rami picked up his pace, moving swiftly for the door.
August’s voice sounded through Rami’s earbud. “Ready?”
“Copy.”
Rami stormed up the steps and threw his weight into the door. The cheap material bounced open, and he stumbled into the living room. Rancid smells—moldy food and piss—hit his nose, and he swallowed back a retch. The air was as thick as a fucking hot box.
The sound of glass shattering reached his ears. Then came a hiss. The smoke bomb.
“What the—?” someone cried groggily from the bedroom.
Screams and shouts followed. A beat later, August charged through the front door. The sight was as familiar to Rami as his own shadow.
Rami swept his gaze around the room and moved over trash, clothes, and other shit he didn’t waste time identifying. The scents of urine and feces mingled with the foul, bitter odor of drugs. The fog from the smoke bomb leaked out of the bedroom into the rest of the small space, and the powdery scent was almost fucking pleasant compared to the other smells fermenting inside.
His light landed on a form against the wall between the kitchen and the hallway. The person was wearing a black shirt and dark shorts—what Ivy had been wearing the day she’d been snatched.
“Get on the ground!” August screamed, as he burst down the hall and into the bedroom. The crack of two shots came next.
Rami moved swiftly toward the woman. She lay facing the wall. Brown, sweat-soaked, matted hair concealed her profile.
Even with all the commotion, she didn’t move.
Dread collected at the back of Rami’s tongue. Just moments ago, heat had been coming from her body. But maybe he was too late.
He lowered his weapon, dropped down beside her and ignored the grunts and cries from the other room. “Miss? Can you tell me your name? I’m—”
The woman rolled swiftly, and a guttural cry sounded from her throat. She swung at him, driving something sharp at his face. “No!” The choked gasp fell on a shaky wail.
He dodged her hand, and a jagged tip sliced his jaw. He snagged her wrist in one swoop, and a nail fell from her fingers and rolled along the slanted floor. Dazed, terrified hazel eyes connected with his, and the crushing force of pity hit him like a dumbbell to the chest.
His headlamp shined in her face and she winced, but he’d caught sight of dilated pupils hidden behind swollen, bluish eyelids. Her head lolled. It seemed as if her little attack had drained the last of her strength.
“Jesus,” he whispered.
He brought his free hand to the back of her neck, cradling her head. “Hey,” he said sharply. Her eyelids flickered but didn’t open again. “If you can hear me, listen. Is your name Ivy?”
Silence.
Fuck.
He stared at her face. Dirt smeared her swollen and bruised cheek. A deep well of rage formed inside him. Those motherfuckers. They’d beat her. Hit her. She was so thin. So pale.
But was she Ivy? He wavered. Her hair color and clothing matched the description, but given her rough physical state, he couldn’t be sure.
Defiance expanded his chest.
Ivy or not, he wasn’t leaving this woman. He’d break his own goddamn rule. Christ, she still might not survive.
“My name is Rami, and I’m here to take you home.” He hesitated. If this wasn’t Ivy, then they still had a search ahead of them. He had to know.
“Is that her?” August stalked up to him.
Rami didn’t ask about the people inside the bedroom. “Don’t know.” The woman’s hand twitched on his forearm, and he remembered something Gigi had said. He lowered her head to the floor, unscrewed the lid of the canteen, and dumped water on her dirty left hand. Using his shirt, he scrubbed her skin and then illuminated her knuckles with his headlamp.
A faint pink birthmark marred the delicate skin below her middle finger. “It’s her.” The triumphant declaration made his pulse kick into overdrive.
Yes. Thank god.
He scooped her up with one arm beneath her knees and cradled her head to his chest. “I’m taking you home, Ivy,” he stated. Confidence vibrated through his chest. “Cover us,” he commanded August.
Taschen’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “Dude. We got company. Get the fuck outta there.”