Chapter 32
THIRTY-TWO
STORM
T his moment feels like it should be bigger. As if there should be a montage theme song playing like in the Rocky movies.
Instead, it’s quiet. No trumpets. No slow-mo walk. Just me, pacing like a caged animal in the office I’ve spent the last week in, watching drone and body cam footage from a team across the country.
“Do we know why he’s in D.C.?” I ask the room, my voice a grumble. Axel leans over his keyboard, his earbud emitting a low squawk as the person on the other end speaks to him.
Misha Hroshko leads the Ukrainian Mafiya, and to hear Axel tell it, he hates Lakeland and the fuckers who run on Isla Cara more than I do. Something to do with Daddy issues, apparently.
But the guy’s weird, and the first time I spoke with him over the triple-encrypted video chat, he stared at me for long moments before answering any of my questions.
“It looked like he had a meeting with some senators,” Axel says. “Anyway, it tracks that he’d stop at what amounts to a brothel on his way out of town.”
I hum. Even as I watch the operation unfold moment by moment just as planned, I can’t help the unsettled itchiness beneath my skin.
Out in the high-end suburbs of Northern Virginia, Lakeland Sandoval walks into a mansion on several acres of land—essentially the East Coast’s version of the Bunny Ranch.
Intel says it’s where senators, diplomats, and the like get what they can’t ask for in daylight.
“He’s inside,” Axel says when Lakeland enters the home, caught on the hijacked security camera pointing toward the front door.
“Everyone’s in place,” comes another voice, not Misha’s, through the speakers. “The girls are escorting the johns to the rooms.”
“And then someone will get them all out?” Riale asks. Axel nods.
The plan is too simple; this is too easy.
I grit my teeth to take my focus off my thoughts.
“Showtime, baby!” Axel shouts, his excitement filling the tense room. Riale grunts as Axel flips from camera to camera, showing the stream of workers fleeing the building on silent feet. Dark panel vans speed away, and a few four-by-fours sprint into the woods.
“When—”
Like a zipper being ripped, explosive after explosive ignites around the base of the home, taking the stone and wood building from peaceful and unassuming to a conflagration in seconds.
Another chain planted in the second-story rooms goes off, making the fire pulse bright and grow.
“Woo, damn!” Axel says. “That’s something for their asses!”
“ Axel ,” I press, looking at him with lowered brows. He gives me a chagrined smile and an eyeroll. Right when he turns back to the screen, the drone footage catches the house folding in on itself, collapsing as the structural integrity breaks from the flames.
“No one’s getting out alive with that one,” a voice says, one of Misha’s people.
“Sho’ ain’t, Mad Max,” Axel says, still smiling. “All right. Well, let me know when you’ve ID’d the body.”
And with that parting statement, Axel removes his headset and spins to face me and Riale.
“So…that’s it? It’s done?” Riale throws the question at Axel, and I take up pacing again.
That’s it. Lakeland’s dead. There’s no way he’d survive not only the fire but the building collapse. So that means….
“Yep. We’re all free from that particular monster. Now it’s up to Misha and his crew to take care of the rest of it.”
The rest of it being the criminal empire. Apparently, they’d been on the mission to destroy some fuck-shit that’s way, way deeper than just Lakeland. I’m glad to hand over that particular weight, even though Axel and Riale plan on supporting Misha from afar now.
It was too easy.
I try not to grunt at the plan Axel, Riale, and Misha, AKA The Ukrainian, came up with. I wasn’t wrong when I said the three of us are incapable of taking down an entire network of criminals attached to Lakeland, no matter how much Riale and Axel want to.
That’s not to say I want to see trafficking continue or weapons of war to get in the hands of terrorists, but again…I have me and mine to look after.
So, this was the compromise. We work with The Ukrainian, who apparently has a goddamn army behind him, take out Lakeland, and then I sit back while Axel, Riale, and Misha go play The Avengers.
“Why are you so pissed off?” Riale asks, tilting his head as he assesses me.
“You’d think you would be happier that all of this is coming to an end.
This Lakeland shit is done, and the rest of it is now in the hands of people who can do what we haven’t been able to.
All you have to focus on now is your family. ”
That part has my heart rate kicking up.
“Right,” I say, my voice flat. Riale doesn’t push.
After looking between the two of us, Axel whistles Why Can’t We Be Friends ? as he plops into his computer chair, spinning side to side.
“Y’all seem better,” Axel says. “But now you’re acting like you got stung in the ass by a red wasp. What’s going on with you?” Axel directs all this toward me.
I shrug.
“He’s just scared,” Riale says, and I shoot the middle finger in his direction. Axel nods sagely.
“Fear is a healthy emotion, my friend,” Axel says, drawing out his words to sound like an old professor. “But you need not fear Lakeland’s goons. We have bigger ones on our side.”
“You sure you trust those niggas, Axel?” I ask, thinking about the unsettling feeling I got when I met the dead-eyed Ukrainian.
For a brief moment during that initial call, his wife, a mixed woman who’s maybe half a foot taller than Tempest, came on.
They were like icebergs as they described their more than a hundred soldiers and intelligence agents in what Misha calls The Resistance.
Not gonna lie, I stopped listening, too focused on what was right in front of me.
And now, what’s right in front of me is my singular purpose and mission: being a father. A family man.
Now to figure out how the fuck to do that.
“It’s not fear,” I say. “It’s anticipation.” Anticipation of the unknown, which is what’s killing me right now.
“Ah, I see,” Axel says, giving me a squirrely look. “Well, from what I can tell, it’s been a minute since you last did it, but one tip I have is if it feels like you’re gonna bust after a minute, just say the alphabet backward?—”
“Man, get outta here!” I say, barking a laugh. Axel smiles, and I realize the purpose of his statement was to get me to calm the fuck down. It worked. Sorta.
“How long has it been then?” Axel asks, lifting an eyebrow.
I roll my eyes, not wanting to go down this path.
“Not long at all,” I reply vaguely.
“Hmm. Days?” Axel asks. I grunt, crossing my arms.
“No? Okay. Weeks, then?” Axel continues, and damn it, my jaw flexes at that, and he notices.
“Weeks! Damn, Sandoval. You’ve been hitting that with Shae again? Well done. Is it still just as good as you rem?—”
“Keep her name out your mouth,” I growl, and Axel rears back, straightening in his seat with his hands up.
“Well, excuse a nigga for just making some damn conversation,” he grumbles, but he still has a smirk, so I know he’s just on his bullshit.
“Will you please fuckin’ focus? Damn,” Riale grinds out, and I shrug, watching as Axel returns to his computer.
It hits me then: There’s nothing more for me to do. Sure, we’ll have to wait for confirmation that Lakeland’s actually gone, but this eight-year battle is…done.
Talk about anti-climactic.
“I’m gonna head out,” I say, looking at my watch and swearing because I missed putting the twins to bed.
“Give my godchildren hugs for me,” Axel says brightly, and I nod, giving Riale a silent nod before walking over to him and giving him dap.
“Thanks, man,” I mutter.
“Don’t mention it,” he replies, his voice just as rough.
Riale and I leave the office, splitting in different directions. I walk out the front door and down the drive. It’s clear tonight, the full moon heavy in the cloudless sky.
One foot in front of the other, I take the same path my parents’ vehicle took the last time I saw them. Right as a bird flaps its wings in the trees, I reach the spot where they died.
And I breathe. I allow myself to grieve. I allow myself to be so fucking thankful.
Soon, I’ll have to face everything waiting for me.
Soon, I’ll have to face the mess I created and the devastation I left behind.
I won’t have anything left to hide behind.
A dark bird, black and white, flies out of the tree, soaring off past my head, and I drop my shoulders and release the tension in my chest as I watch it disappear.
Everything will be okay, even if I have to sacrifice parts of myself to make it so.