7. Ember
EMBER
SOUTHBOUND – ARTEMAS
Fragments of images from the last time I found myself in a dockyard creep into my mind like stealthy attackers, determined to imprison me in the past. The flashes are muddied and intense, despite my attempts to focus on the vehicle we’re riding in.
Bound wrists. Drugged grogginess.
Screaming women. The yells of our captors.
Blood. Terror. Darkness.
It’s near impossible not to think about the poor, terrified girl I was tossed into that black container with. Gracie’s never far from my thoughts. When I’m not thinking about Tom, I’m tormented by what Luis threw in my face.
You should be glad that she’s dead. Her fate could’ve been far worse.
If it’s the last thing that I do, I’ll ensure that he pays for the suffering she endured. Gracie deserves justice. They all do. That’s my purpose now—to dismantle this sick, twisted machine and protect all the would-be victims out there.
“Are you in position?” Hyland asks into his comms.
The sound of Kyle’s gruff voice filters through our earpieces.
“Affirmative. I’ve got eyes on the vehicle. It hasn’t moved.”
“Watch our backs. Only fire if necessary.”
“You mean I don’t have permission to put a bullet in your back?” The pout is evident in Axel’s voice.
“Knock it off,” Warner scolds from beside me. “You’re covering the Falcon Team, Ax. Behave.”
“When has he ever been able to do that?” Hyland grumbles.
“Fuck you, Hy,” Axel whines unhappily.
“Not with a thousand condoms, pup. Do your job.”
Nothing but silence follows. I catch Blaine’s eye roll from across the debris-littered lorry bed. He looks good, decked out like a real Sabre agent. Warner even permitted Blaine to carry a weapon. We must be in serious shit if he’s breaking his own dumb rules.
The four of us are crouched at the rear behind two pallets laden with shipments. Kyle, our resident sniper, is with Archer on a rooftop outside the docks, while Axel assists them.
Oscar complained when Warner ordered him to remain behind with the intelligence team to maintain contact with HQ. The directors rarely engage in active ops these days, but they’ll be waiting for mission updates back in London.
The sound of Josh greeting someone from the driver’s cab floats to us. Warner tenses beside me, his semi-automatic pistol clasped tight in his hands while Hyland is crouched to leap into action at a moment’s notice.
When Blaine’s booted foot nudges mine, I look up at his silent, moving lips. Breathe. Yeah, helpful. Still, I make a show of sucking in a lungful as Josh’s fake documents are checked by port security. Blaine smirks at my antics.
It would have been so much easier to call the authorities, clear the port then storm it with nothing but brute force.
Problem is, we have no idea who is on Luis’s payroll.
It’s clear he’s greased palms to embed himself in local infrastructure like the other honeypots. We can’t trust them to lead us to him.
Just when panic has bloomed inside me, I feel the engine rumble to life. Josh distantly barks a thank you to whoever has waved him inside the port. Meanwhile, I’m silently thanking Rayna. Her forgery skills are impeccable and fast.
My leg bumps into Warner’s prosthetic as we drive through enemy territory, prompting him to flash me a tight smile. He’s trying to hide it, but I can feel his body shaking beside mine, and he keeps tugging at his trimmed salt-and-pepper locks.
“Warner,” I murmur. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“I’m fine, Em.”
“You’re vibrating. Talk to me.”
“We can’t let him slip through our fingers.” He wears a fretful mask.
“I know.” I nudge my shoulder into his. “We won’t let that happen.”
“There’s a decent chance he isn’t here.”
“Someone knows where Tom’s being held. If Luis has people based here, we’ll make them talk. We’re getting closer.”
It feels alien to comfort him when I hardly believe a word I’m saying, but I hate seeing steady, dependable Warner more uncertain than ever.
“Stick close to me.” His hard stare pins me in place. “I’m not losing you too.”
“You’re not going to lose me.”
“Just be careful, love. They’re here for you. I’m not willing to save Tom by giving you to them.”
Regardless of our two bystanders and all the potential ramifications, I shift closer to press my mouth to his. Warner accepts the soft kiss after a second’s hesitation, replying in kind with a sensual plea straight from his soul.
When we break apart, I feel Blaine’s heated stare searing through my skin cells from across the lorry bed. A peek reveals the mystified expression on his face, caught somewhere between intrigue and annoyance. Pretty much sums up how I feel about him too.
Warner leans back with a wan smile and mutters, “Let them look.”
“You’ve changed your tune.”
“No. Just re-evaluating my priorities.”
“Took you long enough.”
“Better late than never?” He smiles faintly.
At the feel of the lorry parking, Blaine abruptly tears his gaze from us to stand up. We all follow suit, straightening Kevlar and smoothing cargos, checking that our weapons are all in place. The engine cuts out, marking our cue to prepare.
After an elongated pause, we hear two short raps on the sheet metal that separates us from the driver’s cab. Coast is clear. No one has leapt out to intercept Josh, believing him to be making a regular delivery.
Hyland takes the lead, grasping the rolling door and yanking it up after unlatching the industrial clasps. Warner covers him with his gun raised in caution in case our surroundings change, and I swallow a barb when Blaine moves to my side.
Three… two… one…
Nothing. The dockyard is deserted.
With the door fully rolled up, we’re free to peer around at the drizzly landscape. Greyscale buildings labelled with directions towards the docks proper, the odd discarded pallet, an array of ancient-looking CCTV cameras that I highly doubt still function.
No assailants.
“Stay alert,” Warner orders curtly.
“You’re all clear,” Kyle informs via the comms. “No movement.”
“This doesn’t feel right,” I mumble.
“They’re running a clandestine trafficking operation from a legal port,” Blaine replies quietly. “Hardly going to roll out the welcome mat and have flashing signs.”
Checking my hip holster for the fifteenth time, I glare at the know-it-all dickhead then follow Warner and Hyland out of the vehicle. We have to jump down onto the rough tarmac, in sight of a nearby building equipped with professional signage.
INTERNATIONAL FREIGHT TERMINAL.
Everyone tenses at the approach of footsteps, the muscles in my shoulders unclenching when Josh greets us with a grin.
“Those were some decent forged documents. They didn’t even blink.”
Holding a finger to his lips, Hyland shushes the excited recruit. We gather at the rear of the vehicle, naturally falling into a tight formation to protect one another in case we’ve been spotted.
“Dominic’s intel placed Luis’s operations in this quadrant.” Hyland nods towards a nearby lorry. “There are your fake plates.”
Sure enough, Rayna’s observation checks out. Only one of the rear doors is now gaping open to reveal an abandoned interior. Completely empty. The sense of unease pooling in my stomach grows, twisting into a knot.
Blaine tentatively circles the empty lorry, crouching to check beneath it before completing a full circuit. He returns, seemingly satisfied it isn’t going to explode.
“We still need to check that building,” Hyland suggests.
Blaine rolls his lip ring between his teeth. “We don’t have the numbers for a fight. Now, if you’d allowed me to involve my people…”
“A bunch of untrained criminals infiltrating an active crime scene? Excellent idea.”
“Just a suggestion,” he clips out. “No need to use that tone.”
“Rayna, can we get a heat scan?” Warner trains his sight on the building. “I want to know what we’re sneaking into.”
After a couple tense minutes, Rayna’s voice crackles down the line.
“Nothing detected, but those concrete walls have to be three feet thick. The drone’s infrared camera can’t capture accurate readings through that.”
“Copy. Thanks.”
My head tilts upwards so I can locate the faint black dot of her drone in the air. “We’ll have to do this the old-fashioned way. If anyone’s left inside, we’ll deal with it.”
“Quietly,” Warner adds.
“Still could be a trap,” Josh mutters.
Blaine provides a derisive snort. “Likely.”
Cursing, Warner scans over the multiple-story structure. “We move fast and silent. Clear each floor, watch each other’s backs and look for any signs of Luis’s operation.”
“Backup?” Hyland suggests.
Warner adjusts the piece tucked into his ear. “Kyle, I want you to remain above. Stay sharp in case anyone is watching. I need Axel and Archer to come down to follow us.”
“Copy that,” Archer acknowledges.
“It’s going to take us a bit to reach you,” Axel advises, rustling with movement. “We’re fifteen floors above the dockyard.”
“Then you’ll just have to catch up. Oscar, update HQ. Have backup on standby in case we need it. Medical evac too.”
“Medical?” I gasp.
“There’s still a chance Luis may have other victims held here to be exported. Even if he’s decided to cut his losses and relocate already.”
Fiery strands of anger strengthen my spine, allowing all distractions to fall away. I roll my shoulders back as we approach the set of double doors, marked with workplace warning signs.
Stepping through the entrance, a rudimentary reception area with badly poured concrete floors houses a sole security guard. The pudgy-faced man immediately stands when he sees us barging in, his eyes bulging at our guns.
“What the…?”
“Easy.” Warner quickly trains his gun on him. “We have a warrant.”
“Who are you people?”
“Sabre Security. Put your hands up.”
“You can’t just barge in here!”
“Sir, I need you to stand down. This is now an active crime scene.”
“I’m calling?—”