CHAPTER 3
Tae gripped the back of his pants to hold them up and squirmed back onto the seat. With his hands cuffed, he couldn’t fasten the front, but that wasn’t his concern just then. Something had brought the car to a dead stop.
Or someone.
Tae’s heart pounded. Dad? But the “obstacle” was in front of them, not behind them.
“Go around them,” the passenger mumbled, his voice growing tense.
“How?” the driver snapped. “They’re blocking both lanes.”
Tae scooted against the rear driver’s side door and pressed his face to the window, trying to see what was happening on the road. He caught a glimpse of a black car parked sideways across the passing lane, but couldn’t see into the driving lane.
Both his abductors were distracted, neither paying attention to Tae. His pulse quickened until it thundered in his head as he scooted with his back against the door, fumbling with the handle. His heartbeat spiked when he felt the latch give and the door loosen.
Tae was facing his attacker—the man still looking ahead—when he threw himself against the door.
Instead of swinging open, the door caught.
Tae realized too late that he hadn’t fully disengaged the latch.
He scrambled to grab the door handle again, but his failed escape snapped the man’s focus back to him.
“Hey!” the passenger grabbed Tae by the hair and yanked him away from the door.
“You little fuck!” He spun Tae around, his back slamming into the man’s thick chest, then caught Tae by the throat, his thumb lodged firmly against the crook of Tae’s jaw.
“One move, gook,” he hissed in Tae’s ear, “and I’ll snap your scrawny neck. ”
His words frightened Tae—but he also heard the man’s fear in his voice.
Tae’s eyes darted to the front windshield, where he saw the second car blocking the driving lane: a cherry-red 1969 Ford Mustang Mach 1.
He immediately recognized it because he and Luke had thought it was awesome the first time they saw it. They’d even gotten to ride in it.
They were here for Tae.
“You’re… already… dead…” Tae rasped, choking under the man’s grip.
“Shut up,” the man hissed more sharply, tightening his hold. He looked anxiously at the driver. “Back up, turn around, and get us out of here!”
The driver dropped the vehicle into reverse, hit the gas, then slammed on the brakes again, throwing Tae and the passenger against the back seat.
“What the fuck?” the man started, but the driver didn’t respond, staring out the side window in the sideview mirror.
Both Tae and his would-be rapist turned at the same time, looking out through the vehicle's rear cargo space.
Tae’s heart surged: his dad’s SUV idled just inches from the rear bumper of the kidnapper’s car, leaving the men trapped with nowhere to run.
Trembling, Tae swallowed hard as fresh tears spilled down his face. “That’s… my dad.”
He couldn’t see the man’s face, but he felt the shudder ripple through his body.
“Do something,” the passenger demanded of the driver.
“Like what?”
“Use your fucking authority,” the man snapped. “We’re protected under federal law. Take charge.”
The driver turned to look into the back seat. “Why don’t you do it?”
“If I let go of this little fucker, he’s gonna bolt.”
The driver huffed at the man’s excuse. “Whatever.” He drew his weapon, popped the door loose, then eased it open.
He didn’t get out right away. “We’re immigration officers,” he called to the men in the cars blocking the road.
“You’re interfering with federal duties.
Remove your vehicles and let us pass, or you will be arrested. ”
The two cars idled in place, with a couple more cars alongside them, enforcing the blockade.
The driver’s door of the black car opened, and a man stepped out—late twenties, Latino—with his weapon holstered at his hip.
The passenger of the black car got out and casually joined the Latino driver.
He was slightly taller, with a fraction more muscle mass than the driver.
Tae trembled. Cruz and Sanchez.
“You got something of ours, amigo,” Cruz said. “We’re not leaving without it.”
The driver hesitated, then stepped out of the car, raising his sidearm at Cruz. “You’re interfering with law enforcement. Leave now, or… or else.” The slight tremor in his voice and his choice of words would have been amusing to Tae—if not for the strong hand gripping his throat.
Tae’s dad had taught him that a dangerous situation grew more precarious when people panicked. If his captor panicked, he might snap Tae’s neck.
“Turn the boy loose,” Cruz said, his demeanor calm and relaxed. “And we can all walk away.”
Walk away? Brad didn’t buy it. Nothing about those spics made him believe they would just take the kid and leave without a confrontation. The gook boy was their only leverage.
Brad tightened his grip around the boy’s throat, feeling the kid struggle for breath.
Thanks to these assholes, he’d been robbed of his chance to fuck the brat.
He liked to choke the younger ones while railing them; the way they fought back frantically got him jacked.
And the way this kid was starting to panic beneath Brad’s grip, it would’ve been a wild fuck.
“Don’t listen to them, Dan!” Brad hollered at him. “We arrested this kid lawfully. We’ve been given permission to do our job by any means necessary. The highest powers protect us—”
“Fuck the higher powers.” The deep voice suddenly filled the back seat as something sharp pressed against the nape of his neck.
Brad hadn’t heard the rear door open. He froze. The blade slid around to his throat, careful not to cut the boy’s head. Brad’s eyes bulged, and he breathed harder and faster as his throat constricted and his chest tightened, until a pressure-like pain spread through his torso.
“Remove your hands from my son,” the voice growled in his ear, its scalding breath surging down his neck.
“Or I’ll remove them myself.” His other hand gripped a fistful of Brad’s hair and wrenched his head back.
The blade pressed harder against his throat, and Brad felt the sting as it bit into his taut flesh.
Brad released his grip, and the boy scrambled forward, huddling with his back against the door. His pants had slid off his hips again, and he fumbled at the back, trying to pull them up.
The man behind him went frighteningly still, and Brad sensed his eyes fixed on the kid, taking in his bloody face—and open pants.
That’s my dad.
The boy’s words when they saw the SUV behind them.
Aside from the fear, something else hovered behind the kid’s watery eyes. Satisfaction?
My dad is going to kill you.
As terrified as the boy was, there had been a certainty in those words.
Now, Brad understood why: Dad wasn’t the “little gook daddy” Brad had referenced before.
Not even close.
Cochise momentarily froze, his eyes locked on Tae as the boy tried to pull his pants up over his hips.
A fresh surge of rage boiled in his gut, and he almost decapitated the fucker on the spot. Regaining control, he dragged his son’s kidnapper out the back door and slammed him against the car.
The driver’s head snapped around, eyes wide, and he swung his weapon toward Cochise. “Let him go!” His voice cracked on the last word, tickling something inside the Egyptian.
Cochise pressed the blade more firmly against the man’s throat, the razor edge breaking the skin and drawing blood.
His captive made a wet, choked sound and screwed his eyes shut, his breathing reduced to panicked gasps.
Cochise never wavered, his own gaze locked on the driver in a silent, lethal challenge.
“I said…” the driver gulped. “… let him go.” Like a fool, he had taken his eyes off Cruz and his men… and had yet to clock the cowboy’s presence at all.
Clint’s pistol cleared leather in a blur of motion, and he closed the distance before the driver even registered the movement.
The cold steel of the barrel jammed hard into the base of the man’s skull, grinding bone.
“Put the fucking gun on the roof. Now.” The words were low, guttural, stripped of all mercy.
A tremor ran through the driver’s arm as he slowly, carefully, laid his weapon on the car’s roof and raised his hands. “Take the kid,” he stammered, voice cracking. “Just… just like he said…” His eyes flickered toward Cruz. “… we can all walk away from this.”
Clint leaned so close his lips brushed the man’s ear.
His free hand clamped around the driver’s neck, digging into the tendons.
“You stole his son.” The whisper was venomous.
“You put your hands on my boy. You hit him. You think after that there’s any walking away?
” He pressed the barrel deeper, a promise of what was coming. “You think we’re here to negotiate?”
“Wh-What’re you going to do to us?” the driver choked.
Cochise dragged the other man around to the driver’s side of the car and slammed him against the vehicle, beside his buddy. He sheathed the knife and opened the back door. Tae scrambled out, breaking into sobs as he threw himself against Cochise.
“The keys,” Cochise snapped.
Clint yanked the handcuff keys off the driver and handed them over. Cochise removed the cuffs from Tae, inspected his bloody wrists, and wiped his face with a handkerchief. Shaking, Tae fastened his pants with trembling hands.
“Why were your pants open?” Cochise asked.
Tae choked back a sob and wrapped his arms around his dad’s waist, his watery eyes flicking to the man who had been in the back seat with him. “He… He was gonna… rape me.” He swallowed a couple of times. “They… they both were.”
“He’s lying!” the driver shrieked. “I wasn’t! It was just him!”
“You lying fuck!” the other man cried.
“I’m not lying!” the driver insisted. “I wasn’t gonna touch him—I swear to God!”
Clint grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back. “Children are precious in God’s eyes,” he hissed. “God hates child fuckers.”
The other man rubbed his throat where droplets of blood had streaked his skin. “What’re you going to do to us?” His fear of the answer was evident in his voice and eyes.
His eyes narrowing, Clint said, “Why ruin the surprise?”
“Let’s get this done.” Cochise looked up and down the two-lane highway. “Before any traffic comes along.” He glanced at Cruz. “Can one of your men take Tae home?” His hand rested on the boy’s back as Tae trembled against him.
“I’ll take him.” Rodriguez, a young man in his mid-twenties, stepped away from the red Mustang and walked over.
Cochise nodded. He had a deep affection for Rodriguez, who was nursing a grief-stricken heart after losing the love of his life not long ago.
Tae tightened his arms and pressed his face into Cochise’s chest. “I knew you’d come for me,” he whispered through quiet sobs. “I knew… you would.”
Wrapping both arms around the boy, Cochise kissed the top of his head. “I’ll always come for you,” he murmured. “You’re my son.” He hugged him closer as his eyes rose to the two men trapped against the car, and he let the rage burning through his veins take hold. “I love you.”
Rodriguez stood at the rear of the Dodge Durango and glanced at the two captives. It was men like these who had shot the man he loved right in front of him. Cochise saw it in his eyes—he didn’t want to be around them right now.
Untangling himself from Tae’s arms, Cochise cupped Tae’s face and kissed his brow. “Go with Rodriguez; he’ll keep you safe and get you home.” His mouth twitched. “He might be a runt, but he’s badass to the core.”
The young man smiled and shook his head. There was a time when he would’ve shot back a snappy retort. The Egyptian missed the cocky boy he used to be… before his heart was ripped out.
Tae hugged his dad again. “When’re you coming home?”
“Later,” Cochise said. “In time for dinner.”
The boy raised his head, tears in his eyes. “You’re my hero,” he whispered.
Cochise stared at him, then kissed his head again as he cleared his throat. “Go on, now. Let Rodriguez get you home.”
Nodding, Tae reluctantly left his dad’s side and approached Rodriguez, who smiled. “Ready for another ride in my cool car?”
Tae sniffed. “Yeah.”