Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Blade
My men are waiting for me in position. I watch to make sure my girl is completely out of sight before I join them. I hate that I had to send her away alone, but I won’t let my men enter this house without me just because my girl is nearby.
I’m confident she will obey me. She understands the stakes. She has to. If she doesn’t… I can’t wrap my head around what I’ll do if she isn’t in the Camaro when I look for her.
I make eye contact with Tank and Ghost. Cannon is on the other side of the property. Tank and Ghost can see him. With a hand signal, we silently move up to the house until we’re all plastered to an outer wall.
I’m probably going to have the best view since I’m coming from the back, where the kitchen is located.
Stark is holding the woman in the kitchen.
He’s been staring at his phone and pacing back and forth between the kitchen and the living room for the last two hours, according to Mace. He grumbles a lot.
The truth is he has no idea if June ever saw his text. He took a gamble. I’ve never responded to any of his texts from the moment they started coming in, so he can’t be certain he’s even texting the correct phone number.
“Where is he?” I whisper.
Mace has been in my ear the entire time. Not only has he been monitoring what’s happening inside the house, but he was the first to spot June sneaking up from behind.
“Hold tight a second,” Mace responds. “He’s pacing. He’ll be back in the living room in a moment. Then, you can look in through the back. The woman has her back to you. She won’t see you.”
All four of us can hear Mace in our earpieces.
“Blade, now,” Mace says.
I lean around the corner to look through the window over the sink, quickly scanning so I’ll have a solid lay of the land before ducking back against the side of the house.
Mace continues, “Cannon, there’s a window cracked open an inch in the master bedroom next to you. See if you can slide it up. Tank, head around to the front with Ghost.”
I hear Tank in the earpiece. “The handle is ordinary. Ghost, can you see if it’s unlocked?”
A few moments later, Ghost whispers, “Affirmative.”
Seconds after that, Cannon taps his mic, letting us know he’s inside the house.
“On my signal,” Mace says.
This isn’t our first rodeo. We’re a well-practiced team.
We discussed this at length on the way here.
The moment Stark is the farthest from his hostage and facing the other direction, Cannon, Ghost, and Tank will be on him so fast he won’t even be able to take a full breath before he’s disarmed and flat on his stomach.
I’ll be entering through the back door to get between the woman and Stark in the same time frame.
Stark is holding a pistol, but he hasn’t aimed it at the woman for a long time. He’s been waiting for June.
“Three, two, one, go.”
I kick in the back door and rush past the hostage without a glance. I need to be sure we have Stark immobilized before I help her.
Cannon comes at him from his side while Ghost and Tank enter through the front. I’m just in time to catch Stark lifting his gun, but Cannon kicks it out of his hand so hard he probably broke a few bones.
I know he did a second later when Stark howls like a fucking baby and grabs his hand. His pain and confusion is short-lived, however, because in a flash, Tank kicks his legs out, sending him careening toward the floor. He lands hard on his knees and screams again before falling onto his face.
I gladly put my boot on his back, using enough pressure that he will have trouble breathing. He won’t be fucking breathing for long, though, so I hope he enjoys his last few minutes.
Cannon turns toward the woman.
I finally glance at her as Ghost tugs Stark’s arms behind his back and secures them painfully with a zip tie, making sure he gets it far too tight.
“What the fuck?” Stark screams. “Get the fuck off me. Who the fuck are you?”
Tank grabs Stark’s own duct tape from the kitchen table and returns to wrap it around his head, covering his mouth and securing it so tight in his hair that it would fucking hurt to remove it. He won’t be living when it’s removed, however.
He’s going nowhere, so when Tank sets a knee between his shoulder blades, I turn to help Cannon with the hostage.
He squats in front of her and reaches for the tape covering her mouth.
As he eases it back carefully, doing his best not to hurt her further, I round to her back, pull my knife from my boot, and easily cut through all the rope.
The woman gasps before she slumps forward into Cannon’s arms. Most likely, she does so because she’s scared out of her mind and exhausted.
Cannon pulls her against his chest. “I’ve got you. You’re safe now.”
“Are you with the police?” she whimpers.
“No, angel. We’re a private agency. You’re safe.” He stands, taking her with him. “I’ve got you.”
“He was going to kill me,” she wails. “He said so. How did you find me?”
Cannon takes her out the back door. She doesn’t need to see her abductor again. Besides, he needs to get her as far away from this house as possible before I show Stark what happens to fucking assholes who abuse women. Cannon will take the woman to one of the SUVs.
Stark’s eyes are wide, and he’s struggling as hard as he can when I return. But he’s a fucking pussy. His struggles are nothing to us.
Tank and Ghost search the house. We suspect Stark has a fuckton of stolen jewelry, cash, weapons, and even drugs in the house.
While my men work, I torment Stark. I kick him so hard that he rolls onto his back, trapping his arms under him. It has to hurt, and based on the way he arches his ass off the floor, I know it does.
Not letting him roll back to his stomach, I step between his legs and kick him in the balls, enjoying the way he writhes and moans behind the tape. I start laughing at him when he pisses himself.
“You poor baby. Maybe you should have put on a diaper before you took a hostage and tried to terrorize two women today.” I rear back and let my boot hit his balls again.
He arches his chest this time. Tears run from his eyes. Snot drips from his nose. What a fucking pansy. Why is it that men who abuse women are usually weak fucking pieces of shit?
I lift my toe and keep my heel on the floor while I press my foot against his fucking dick, enjoying his total state of panic while Ghost and Tank start hauling items into the living room.
Tank whistles under his breath. “Fucker’s hit a lot of jewelry stores.” He’s holding a handful of gems and lets them rain through his fingers and fall all over Stark’s face.
Ghost opens a duffel bag, reaches inside, pulls out a handful of money, and throws it in the air. Twenties flutter around us. The next time Tank shows up, he has a bag of white powder.
Stark watches in horror as Tank leans over Stark’s face, cuts a hole in the bag, and carefully lets the contents stream out until Stark is choking from his only airhole.
The room is littered with the fruits of Stark’s labors. We’re nearly done here.
Tank and Ghost nod in my direction and step out of the house.
“Adios, motherfucker,” I say to Stark. “It’s time for light’s out.”