Chapter 19 Running with the Devil #3
As she walked the perimeter, she tried not to crunch the fallen leaves, but it proved an impossible task.
She had no other route. She had to make her way around to the back door.
After fighting her way through the overgrown bushes, she tripped over a mound of dirt and stumbled, catching her balance before she crashed to the ground.
With her gaze rooted on the area, she knelt, ran her hand over the dirt.
What the hell…
Crawling on her hands and knees, she felt the mound, eyed another through her night goggles. There were several mounds, all equally spaced apart.
A chill rocketed through her. She knew exactly what they were.
Graves.
Her heart rate spiked, the adrenaline pounding through her as she approached the back door to the garage. With her SIG at the ready, she did a quick sweep of the area. She saw nothing, not even an owl or a fox. The autumn wind swirled around her, and she chugged in a calming breath.
She wasn’t scared, but she was fully aware of what she might find.
With her back against the side of the building, she applied pressure to the door handle. It turned, she pushed open the door, but she didn’t enter. Seconds passed before she stepped into the two-car garage and eyed the four-door sedan. No one hiding inside, so she continued toward the back.
That’s when she spotted a sliver of light coming from the floorboard on the far side of the parked vehicle. Nearby, a throw rug had been moved out of the way.
What the hell…
Even through the greenish hue of the goggles, she couldn’t miss it.
A flattened handle to a trap door. She crouched, pulled up on the door.
It gave way, flooding her with light. Squinting, she flipped up the goggles, peered down.
There was a metal ladder with basic rungs.
Without hesitation, she holstered her SIG, turned around, and started climbing down.
Reaching the bottom, landed her in a small room, like a vestibule or waiting area. A single, red lightbulb affixed to the ceiling bathed the room in a devilish glow. If the room had been there all those years ago, she’d never known, but she had a feeling this hidden space was a recent add-on.
She removed her SIG from the holster as she headed toward a metal door on the opposite wall. There, she turned the handle and pulled open the heavy door.
The moment she stepped into the next room, she saw him. A shudder flitted down her spine, hairs on the back of her neck prickled. For a split second, she wanted to run, but then the panic gave way to determination. She’d been hunting him for over a year.
And she’d finally found him.
A masked King A stood no more than ten feet away.
As she raised her weapon, electricity jolted through her and her muscles seized. She could feel herself falling, but she was powerless to stop herself. Even with the pain careening through her, she was aware that she’d been tased.
He loomed over her, a terrifying figure, his face concealed behind a white mask with simple cutouts for eyes. A Halloween nightmare come to life.
Moving fast, he’d zip-tied her wrists and ankles, then dragged her over to a chair and tossed her onto it like a rag doll. As she braced for impact, she forced herself to stay on the chair and not go flying off the other side.
Then, she took in the room. And her most terrifying nightmares came rushing toward her like the boogeyman.
She was sitting in a torture chamber.
When she turned around, the image took her breath away. A woman dressed in a tight black shirt and snug black pants was strapped to a Saint Andrews cross. Her eyes framed in a black mask.
Had Sydney been at a kink party, she would have assumed the woman had been an eager participant. But the fear in the victim’s eyes told the true tale. This woman had been taken… and now she was being tortured.
There was dried blood on her cheek, her left hand was stained red. Sydney swallowed down the billowing fear. Her SIG was on the floor, not more than ten feet from her. But with her hands secured behind her, the weapon could have been sitting in her lap like a damn paperweight.
“Hello, Sydney,” whispered King A. “This is a fun surprise.”
A shiver streaked through her as she whipped toward him. Every cell in her body was charged with adrenaline. She wanted to push out of the chair and attack him with everything she had.
But she couldn’t. She was trapped.
“Welcome to my Chamber of Horrors,” he said, his voice so quiet she had to strain to hear him. “I can’t wait to show you around, then let you experience everything I’ve built here in my little playroom.”
He lifted a whip, stalked over to his prisoner, and cracked the coiled leather against the cement floor. The woman winced, then moaned, as if he’d stuck her. “You, my pretty, get to rest, thanks to this lovely snoop who couldn’t mind her own damn business.”
There was a bite in his tone, an anger that burbled from the depths of his depravity.
As she stared at him, the reality of who he was came into full awareness, even with his face concealed by the mask. Her stomach lurched, but she forced down the bitter bile.
What she didn’t know was how she was going to save herself, save this poor victim, and make sure her sister, Tank, and Grey didn’t fall prey to the monster lurking in the underground dungeon.
“I’m going to torture you, then kill you,” King A said. “And I’m going to have the most fun doing it, cousin.”
“I will eliminate you, but not before you confess to your crimes, King A,” she said, her voice filled with controlled rage.
As if she’d said the word, “abracadabra,” his posture changed. He stood tall, threw back his shoulders, tipped his chin up so he could look down upon her.
There it is.
By calling him King, she’d elevated his status. She’d shown him respect by kowtowing to him. Biting back a smile, confidence stirred in her vengeful soul. She was tied up, she didn’t have her weapon, but she would figure out a way to gain the upper hand.
If she didn’t, she’d die.
Today isn’t my day to die. The good Lord isn’t done with me yet.
Those thoughts filled her with unwavering confidence. Despite the odds, she was ready to do battle with the devil himself.
And then, she remembered Grey’s motto.
How do you fight fire?
With fire.
“Tell me about The Sovereign Method, King A,” she said. “I want to hear all about your success.”
“I’m not sure a little slutress like yourself would understand,” Robby replied, continuing to speak in a hushed tone.
“Maybe not,” she replied, “but your power is unmatched.”
“You came here to kill me,” he said. “Why should I tell you anything?”
“I came here to ambush the Haqazzii terror cell.”
His eyes widened as surprise flashed in his devilish orbs. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“The men you’re doing business with are wanted for international terrorism. You’re in bed with Muhammad Haqazzii. Doesn’t that name mean anything to you?”
“I’m doing business with Bjorn Shariff, an entrepreneur from Dubai,” her cousin bit out.
She bit back a smile. “Bjorn? Seriously?”
He cracked the whip on the cold, cement floor—SMACK!— then he slapped her face.
Her skin stung from the assault, but she breathed deep through the pain. This would be nothing compared to the violence he’d threatened to unleash on her.
Nothing at all.
TEDDY
Teddy made his way down the worn, wooden steps in the cabin’s basement. For as neat as the first floor was, the unfinished lower level was an absolute disaster. A total junk yard of things never discarded. A hoarder’s paradise.
Teddy stilled, listened.
Not a sound. He made his way around the piles of junk to find himself standing at the far wall. With old boxes piled on top of furniture and clothing that had been left to rot, he couldn’t see his way out. He’d backed himself into a corner, but he had to clear the room.
Scurrying had him wheeling around. A rat skittered past, disappearing into a sideboard that had been relegated to the back wall. The air was stagnant, the smell of mildew and dirt so heavy, he started coughing. With his hand over his mouth to stifle the sound, he pressed on.
“Team, check in,” Teddy murmured into his comm.
Silence was the only reply.
He continued through the musty room until he made his way back to the stairs.
Up he went, shutting the door behind him.
There was no one in the house. No Muhammad Haqazzii, no terror cell lieutenants, and no Robby Waters masquerading as poker phenom Burt Goodson.
He’d been so sure the killers had been using the cabin as their safe house.
But he’d been wrong. Dead wrong.
Teddy strode out the front door, closing and locking it behind him. He breathed in the cold, autumn air.
“Main house clear,” Teddy said into the comm as he adjusted his night goggles.
Again, he was met with a chilling silence.
“Sydney, check in.”
Nothing.
“Greystone, Caroline, are you there?”
No response from either of them.
Adrenaline spiked through him as he strode toward the back of the house. As he made his way through the thick underbrush of the property, he stumbled over a mound of packed dirt. Instinctively, he dropped to a crouching position and ran his hand over the leaf-covered area.
After brushing away the leaves, sticks and twigs, he bit out, “What the fucking fuck.”
This is a grave.
In the dead of night, the horror became crystal clear. He’d stepped into a homemade cemetery of neatly lined graves.
“Sydney,” he murmured. “Can you hear me?”
Adrenaline had him powering through the wooded area toward the detached garage as dread filled his angry soul.