Chapter 10
Calla heard Brent banging around. He sounded angry.
She hoped whatever he'd planned had been totally ruined.
He didn't deserve good things, not after he'd killed their parents.
Heck, before then. She had a sinking suspicion that Brent had killed Daniel.
The more she thought about it, the more she worked it out.
Her stomach grumbled, and she closed her eyes, trying to ignore the hunger pains hitting her. Brent hadn’t brought in breakfast, and he hadn’t let her out for lunch. At least she had water from the bathroom.
Her brother had been in a mood lately, and she half wanted to ask him what was wrong, but she knew asking would only bring attention she didn’t want.
She hoped everything in his life was ruined. That would make her feel better. He didn’t deserve happiness or even satisfaction.
When Brent came into her room, relief filled her because she thought she was going to get to eat. But then she realized he didn’t have food for her. What the hell? She needed to eat.
Her head spun as desperation filled her. He didn’t care about her. She knew that. It shouldn’t come as a surprise to her, but she thought he would at least know she had to eat at some point in the day.
Most days, she ate slowly, stretching the food out so she didn't spend hours hungry. He never really gave her enough, and she snuck food when he had her cook for him, but he had kept her locked up all day, so she never ate regular meals.
“Do you need me to cook for you?”
His eyes narrowed, and his lips turned down in a frown. "No, I don't need you to cook for me. I need you to start packing. What is wrong with you? I told you we had to move. Why haven't you packed any boxes?"
The answer screamed through her head, "Because you kept me locked in here today." But she couldn't say that out loud.
There was something really wrong with Brent. He wasn’t able to process reality. She’d seen him slipping more and more in the last few months.
He definitely had something wrong with him.
It went beyond his normal agitation. He was messing up with little things.
Like him leaving her trapped in this room all day, then expecting her to have packed boxes.
She wasn't allowed to leave the house, so how could she have done anything like buy boxes or packing tape?
It was best to not agitate him further. She tried to formulate an answer that wouldn’t piss him off. Words slid through her mind, but she abandoned them since she didn’t know how they would land.
“I can pack this evening.”
He snorted. “You’re useless. Get into the kitchen and make dinner. I’ll start packing.”
He left the door open, and she moved to the kitchen, her eyes sliding to the front door. The lock was in place, and the key wasn't there. No way she could escape that way.
He kept walking and headed into his room, so she used that time to grab a slice of bread and eat it quickly. As she worked on dinner, she stuffed food into her mouth, always working in small bites so he wouldn’t catch her eating.
As she prepared the meal, she checked the back door, finding it locked, too. She was about to give up when Brent left through the front door carrying multiple boxes.
She thought about racing out, but he came back inside. The sound of him turning the key in the lock shattered her hope. She would never escape.
The car Thario was in sat about five hundred feet away, but still in view of the place where they thought Brent lived.
He had binoculars up, hating how constantly looking through them was making him feel. His head hadn’t healed enough for his eyes to adjust to the focus.
He lowered the binoculars for a moment and closed his eyes, wishing things were different. But they weren't. His body had been damaged when their team had been hit. He'd lost more than his job. He'd lost the stability he depended on.
If he’d been in top shape, there was no way Brent would have gotten the jump on him. He needed to spend more time working on his strength. But even if he worked out hard and got back some strength, he would never have what he had before.
Now, he was dizzy because of the concussion. Viewing the world through binoculars wasn’t great even when he felt good. This was close to torture.
They’d been out here for hours, and he worried the guys were close to giving up. If they didn’t find Brent here, they might never find him.
He lifted his binoculars to look again when the front door of the house opened.
Whoever was coming out had two boxes in their arms, half obscuring their face.
Thario tracked the dude as he made his way out to a vehicle and opened the trunk.
The boxes went in, and the man turned so he was facing Thario.
For a half second, he feared the guy would see him, but he was too far away.
The man stood for a good ten counts, not turning away. No question, it was Brent.
“That’s him,” Thario said into coms.
They’d passed out earbuds that were hooked into communication devices. It was nice to be hooked up to his guys like this. Operating this way reminded him of his past, which was a good thing, but also bad. He’d wasted too much of his life before the explosion that changed everything.
He wasn't a SEAL, and they weren't operating. His buddies were doing him a favor. That was all. He was thankful they were helping him, and he wouldn't allow what he'd lost to spiral him into missing his old life. He was happy, well, once the headache went away, he would be happy.
“We should pull back and come up with a plan,” Griz said.
“I don’t want him to get away,” Thario said.
“He won’t,” Sharp said.
"I'm going to call in more guys," Squat said. "We can surround the place and get in. He won't have a chance."
“He could end up firing on us,” Sharp said.
“We should move on him when he has boxes in his hands,” Thario said.
Griz grunted. “That means we need to move now.”
Thario liked that idea. He wanted this bastard caught and punished.
“Do you think anyone else is inside?” Griz asked.
“I haven’t seen anyone,” Squat said.
“You’re right. We should do this while he can’t grab a gun. Like when his arms are full of boxes,” Griz said.
Sharp huffed out a breath. "You're right. If we attack while he's inside, he'll grab a gun, and we're on American soil. We can't operate here."
“I’ll come from the left,” Squat said.
“I’ll go in from the right,” Griz said.
“I’ll move in straight ahead,” Sharp added.
Thario watched, anticipation making it hard to breathe. He wanted to be right there with the guys, but he was stuck in the car because he was no longer an operator.
Once they caught Brent and had him under control, he would move closer and get answers. He needed to know what Brent was up to and why he’d attacked.
Thario waited not so patiently for Brent to step out again with boxes. It seemed like it would never happen, but then he opened the door and sure enough, his hands were full.
Thario's heart picked up speed as he watched his three buddies move into action. Brent caught sight of Squat first, but by the time he realized three guys were approaching him, Griz and Sharp were already too close.
Thario moved, heading over to the house as quickly as he could. By the time he got to the house, the guys had Brent inside. When he stepped in, he could hear Brent yelling at someone to help him.
He took in the situation, seeing his three buddies holding Brent on the ground and a woman in the kitchen staring wide-eyed at them.
“Calla, get one of my guns and shoot them!” Brent yelled.
“I wouldn’t do that,” Thario said.
“Let me get zip ties on him,” Griz said.
Thario moved closer to the woman, her gaze finally rising to his. “Are you okay?”
A sob wrenched from her throat before she threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his waist as she cried against his chest.
Slowly, he put his arms on her shoulders, then patted her back, trying to calm her. Words spilled from her lips, but he couldn't really make sense of what she was saying. It was something about being held captive by Brent for years.
He turned so he could see Brent as he held this woman. The bastard had been working with their group to stop human trafficking, all the while he'd been holding this woman captive. What the hell was wrong with Brent, and who was this woman?