Chapter 19
Nineteen
Luca
We ride in three vehicles of Dante’s, to the location on the map. Ashton and I ride together, but Halsey is the one who drives.
“Luca, there’s a set of blades in the back, under the seat, grab those for me, would you?”
“Sure.” I’m not sure what he intends to do with them, but I retrieve a black leather box with a snap latch that I open.
“Each of you grab two. Put them along the edge of your boots. I’ve got guns in the backseat as well. Take whatever you think you’ll need. This could get messy.”
The daggers are quite stunning, and I slide them carefully down into my boot, making sure they’re secure.
Ashton grabs two as well and glances at them for a moment. “Are these necessary? I’m better with a gun.”
“You’re better off alive.” Halsey keeps his hands on the steering wheel as he follows his team; we’re the last in position on our approach. “Don’t ever turn down a weapon.”
We’re not quiet or secretive.
There’s no sneaking up on the enemy. Once again, we don’t have the element of surprise. Daylight doesn’t exactly help, either.
In fact, there has been nothing for miles while driving, and there doesn’t appear to be much nearby.
Four white vans spread across the forest road, which widens only slightly, the path trampled and clearly used before.
Each van is parked alongside one another, lined up, extending onto the forest floor.
We block their vehicles, pulling in behind the vans, lining up, making sure they can’t drive down the mountain without going through us first.
The van closest to us has the back door open, and the young girls—teenagers—are being shoved inside like cattle, by two men.
In the distance, there’s another road that winds up the mountain, and while we’re the only path down, I spot a dark red shipping container, the doors open.
Is that where the girls had been kept?
There’s no sign of anyone else coming from that direction.
Two men and all those girls.
We can overpower them and stop this before it becomes a bloodbath and the girls get hurt.
Anger floods my senses. Nausea sweeps over my body, and I jump out of the SUV first, needing air.
Hasley and the others are out of the vehicles within seconds, guns drawn.
The mountains make it less hot, the canopy from the trees offering little comfort as I’m sweating and sick to my stomach.
Did Dante know?
I thought they were women being trafficked, adult women.
Not that it would make it much better, but the fact it’s children, I can’t see straight.
My heart pumps violently in my chest, each breath a gasp for air. The two men glance back at us, shove the girls into the van more quickly and raise their weapons.
There’s no sign of Massimo, the man who threatened my wife and son.
He’s the one I want dead most of all, but the men who are trafficking children, I have no problem with ending their pathetic lives.
The man on the right lifts his gun, and I duck behind the car door, using it as cover.
He’s the first to pull the trigger.
Gunfire erupts all around, and within seconds, the two men are splattered in blood and slump down, unconscious, to the ground.
They were no match for our team.
The van door is half-open, revealing the girls, but they don’t move, frozen in fear or worried they’ll be shot.
The silence lasts merely seconds as more gunfire erupts in the distance.
Bullets whiz by, one of them slamming into the metal door of the van, and the brunette girl nearest the door hides farther back inside the van with the others.
They’re huddled together, terrified, cowering on the floor, afraid the bullets will penetrate the van.
So far, no one has shot the girls.
“We’re here to help,” I say, hoping they’ll trust us. I offer my hand, but the nearest girl shakes her head, unwilling to step outside.
Ashton is right beside me, his gun drawn. “See if the keys are in the ignition.” He shoots off a few rounds to keep us safe.
The van is parked beside the edge of a ravine. There’s no one stupid enough to hide down the mountainside, which grants me the opportunity to use the van as cover as I sneak around to the driver’s side door.
I try the doorknob and discover it’s unlocked. Opening it, there’s no sign of the van’s keys.
Bullets shatter through the window, forcing me to duck for cover.
Shit.
“No keys,” I shout at Ashton, hoping he has another brilliant plan, because this one isn’t it. “Do you know how to hotwire a car?”
I catch sight through the window of the passenger door of two of Massimo’s men moving in toward the van.
“Not while we’re getting shot at. We need to retreat.”
“Best idea I’ve heard all day,” I mutter and back the fuck up to get more cover.
One door at the back of the dirty white van remains open, peppered with bullet holes, but it still provides decent enough cover to keep from getting shot.
At least they’re not shooting at us while the girls are housed inside.
With our men shooting and momentarily gaining the upper hand, Halsey darts from behind the driver’s side door of his car to the van with us.
I’m expecting him to rattle off orders.
He glances into the vehicle, his expression grim. “Shit, there are a lot of them.” His gaze moves from the girls, slightly past the van’s back door, to the three other awaiting vehicles used for trafficking girls. “This is bigger than we anticipated.”
My mouth is dry. I don’t like hearing that the capo in charge is feeling like we’re not fully prepared for this fight.
“Please, help us,” one of the girl’s fragile voices echoes through the van.
Her voice reminds me of Harper, and it sends me reeling. We’re here to put an end to the DeLuca empire that’s risen and caused mayhem. Yet, I’ve seen no sign of the man behind the trafficking ring.
“Where the hell is Massimo?”
“If you find him, kill the bastard for me.” Halsey fires several more rounds before taking cover and changing the clip on his gun.
More gunfire fills the air, bullets hitting the van, and screams erupt from the girls as they cower and huddle together.
Their tears and cries for help are gut-wrenching.
How dare Massimo prey on innocent children, little girls, to run his sickening business.
“Stay down, don’t move,” I order, trying to keep the girls alive.
Boots stomp over the earth, the sound of leaves and branches breaking, like a thunderous applause heading our way. It’s not one or two foot soldiers, but dozens of them waging war.
We’re overpowered, once again.
I don’t see where they’re coming from. There must be a base or some type of foothold they have nearby. Could it be just beyond the shipping container?
Bullets ricochet and blood scrapes at the girl’s skin as bullets spray everywhere from the frontline, hitting all four vans wildly and without abandon.
There’s no control or precision to their attack.
Alessandro, one of Halsey’s soldiers, shoots from behind the farthest van, and a spray of bullets charges at him.
He’s pinned down, but he’s trying to draw the men away from the girls.
He’s going to get himself killed.
“Cover me.” Ashton doesn’t even give me time to answer as he darts out from behind the van’s back door toward the next awaiting vehicle.
Halsey and the team shoot at the enemy, giving Ashton enough time to run without getting hit.
It’s a dangerous tactic, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s planning.
He tries the back door of another van, but it’s locked. “Anyone inside?” He hits the door with his fist.
I can’t hear anything over the sound of bullets, but I glance at Ashton from around the back of the van’s door, making sure not to be seen.
He’s gesturing and nodding, making it clear that there are more girls inside the second van.
“We need to draw DeLuca’s men away from the vehicles.”
“We do that, and we’re all as good as dead.” Halsey shakes his head, not in agreement.
If we can’t drive off with the vehicles, then we need to disable them and keep the girls on the property. It’s the best chance we have of stopping them from being moved.
I bend down and retrieve the blade tucked into my boot.
“Cover me.” I work on the vehicle I’m closest to, ripping the back two tires, shredding into the rubber with the dagger.
I stay out of sight, slicing the front driver’s side tire. It’s the best I can do, three out of four without being a target myself.
I retreat behind the vehicle, the men never noticing me as they’re shooting at Alessandro.
He’s still pinned down but alive.
Bruno has skirted around the vehicles and deeper into the woods, taking out men as quickly as he can, unseen. He picks them off, one at a time, and his movements are quiet and swift, constantly changing, making sure he himself isn’t a target.
Ashton and Alessandro notice what I’ve done with the vehicle, and they both slash the back tires of the vans in front of them.
It’ll slow down the men if they try to leave, but it does nothing to stop the assault of bullets on us.
I’ve yet to fire the gun Halsey gave me. There are too many men shooting as soon as I glance around the edge of the vehicle.
Fuck.
Dante’s men are trained for this type of assault.
Behind Halsey, I catch sight of a man in a suit fleeing on foot. I don’t see who it is, but the attire, the fact he’s fleeing, makes my skin crawl.
My insides scream that it’s Massimo.
The man darts into the woods, and I dash between the vehicles, bullets firing, and I swear I feel the heat of one graze me.
There’s no pain.
And whether it’s adrenaline or a close call, I don’t have time to slow down and check myself over to see if I’ve been shot.
The assailant runs down the mountainside, and I’m tearing up the ground, chasing after him, catching up.
I’m faster, but the mountain is steep and unforgiving.
Gunshots ring out above us, and the farther we get, the fainter they sound, but there are not any less.
Hopefully, our men are holding their position if not overtaking them.
It’s too difficult for me to shoot a moving target, and I can’t aim while running. My best option is to catch the bastard who fled.
I lunge at him, tackling the man to the ground, my fist pummeling his face.
His chest erupts in laughter.
It’s dark.
Seedy.
He turns his head slightly, so his face isn’t shoved into the ground. “Do you really think you’ve won?”
That voice. It’s impossible not to recognize it, as it haunts my dreams.
Massimo.
Of course, he ran.
He didn’t want to wind up dead in the gunfight.
His men are disposable.
The girls probably are, as well, to him.
Disgusting.
I straddle his frame, landing blow after blow to his face.
Blood coats my knuckles and my clothes as I keep pounding the shit out of him.
“You threatened my family!” Another swing at his face.
Where is my fucking gun?
I had in when I was running and chasing him, but somewhere between lunging at him and pouncing on him, it’s not in my grasp.
There are leaves and broken branches. Trees and shadows dancing over the ground. There’s no sight of my gun at first glance, but it could be anywhere.
Does Massimo have a weapon?
There isn’t one on him that’s noticeable to me, as I have him pinned under my weight, his face down in the dirt, his arms restrained behind his back.
There’s another round of heavier gunfire above us, and then it settles to a quiet nothingness.
My stomach roils, not knowing if Ashton is still alive. If Dante’s men won the fight or if, within seconds, Massimo’s men will be tearing down the mountainside in search of their don, and I’ll be the next one dead.