11. Sterling
STERLING
I’m not at liberty to say what I do in the Marine Raiders, but what a lot of people assume is that I carry a big gun and shoot a few bad guys, maybe throw a grenade every once in a while.
The truth is, I’m much scarier than that. Sure, I can hit a quarter-sized target from a mile away with a sniper rifle, but my real talent is finding the motherfuckers who don’t wanna be found.
I’m a tracker. The best one in the US military. If I have a computer, I can find anyone on this planet. I can find out what he ate for breakfast and where he went to preschool.
When I walk through my front door with Duke, the hair on the back of my neck immediately stands up.
“Something isn’t right,” I tell him.
“What?” He can hear it in my voice that I’m being serious, and his usual lighthearted nature shifts.
“Eden,” I call into the house, even though I know it’s empty. “Her shoes are gone.”
He sets the bag of fried chicken on the kitchen counter, flexing his jaw. “Call her.”
I’m already pulling my phone out and dialing her number. It rings and rings, but she doesn’t pick up. My bloodstream freezes. I grab my work laptop out of the backpack and pull up the feed from my security cameras on the front porch.
I shift into the tactical mode I’m known for at work, forcing myself to remove the emotions roaring in my ears.
I hear Duke checking the house, but of course, he comes up empty.
When the camera feed pulls up, I see Eden exiting the house about twenty minutes ago.
She has her tote bag slung over her shoulder.
Everything looks normal as she turns in the direction of the library.
She doesn’t return.
I turn, running toward the door, Duke quickly on my heels. I sprint toward the library, coming up on her bag less than a block from the house.
“Fuck!” I snatch it up, peering inside to find only the books.
I look around the neighborhood. A few houses down, an older woman is watering her garden. Across the street from her, a delivery driver is taking a pizza box up to the door.
I quickly take note of all the address numbers in the general area and sprint back to the house.
It takes me all of five precious minutes to pull up each one and hack into them, find the ones with security cameras on the front door like mine, and scroll through until I see Eden walking by calmly with the bag. My brow furrows when nothing happens until she’s out of the frame.
Then a royal-blue Ford truck idles by, going too slow.
I freeze the frame over the plates, cataloging the numbers.
I scroll through more of the feed until I see Eden sprinting back at full speed and dropping the bag where I found it.
My heart gallops in my chest as I watch the truck slam on their brakes and the man getting out.
I inhale, trying to control my emotions as he jerks her arm before shoving her into the truck.
In another minute, I have his name pulled up.
Michael Higgins.
Her baby daddy found her and literally took her right off my fucking street.
Red-hot boiling rage courses through my body at a rate I’m having trouble controlling. I feel my shoulders start to shake when I think about the bruises she had when we first met, the fear in her eyes when she told me about him.
I feel my body moving, my mind foggy. I finally realize that Duke is screaming in my ear and trying to get my attention by jerking my body toward him by my shoulders.
“Hey! You gotta get your shit together! We can find her. You’re the best of the best. Pull that motherfucker’s credit cards up. I’ll get the guns and check the ammo.”
He’s right. I have to contain myself—for Eden.
In less time than it takes Duke to pull out the pistols and load them up, I find Michael’s credit cards, Social Security number, and bank statements.
His last purchase was at a seedy motel on the outskirts of town, only five minutes ago.
He only paid fifty dollars, which means he probably booked the hourly rate.
I clench my jaw, resisting the urge to roar in frustration. I grab my black cowboy hat, and Duke snatches up my straw one as he follows me to the door. I have a feeling I’m gonna want to avoid my face being caught in any cameras.
We’re out the door, ready to do whatever is necessary to get my wife back.
The motel parking lot looks like a scene from the TV show Breaking Bad.
Prostitutes and gang members are loitering in front of different rooms. The clerk at the front desk has a spider tattoo covering half of his face.
He’s shuffling a deck of cards, and even watching him through the tinted window of my truck, I can only imagine what the inside of the office smells like.
I brought my laptop so I could hack into any potential cameras facing the establishment because I know damn well the motel doesn’t have any. I need to see which room he took Eden into, but I also want to verify what angles are safe for us to be seen from for any potential police investigations.
In theory, the Lucky Mermaid Motel is the perfect place for this to go down. Questionable, unsolved murders are a biweekly occurrence in a place like this.
And one of us is not walking out of here still breathing.
“What do you want to do, brother? Let’s talk through it. You’re not thinking straight.” Duke is in the driver’s seat. He parked on the curb across from the motel instead of the official parking lot.
I survey the area again, pulling up a potential camera feed from a dash cam on one of the vehicles. I have a program that senses when any recording devices are within a hundred yards.
After hacking into it, I’m able to see what room Michael dragged Eden into.
“He must have already had the room booked,” I grit out.
Duke nods. “So, he planned this.”
“Yeah.”
I reach into the back seat and grab my gun case, pulling out the 9mm. I check to make sure it’s loaded before screwing on the silencer.
“Let’s take care of this bastard.”
“What are you gonna do about Eden? You’re gonna scare the hell out of her.”
I blink at my brother, realizing he’s completely right. Eden might not forgive me for this.
“He abused her. When I met her, she had yellowed bruises around her neck. Even if I lose her for this … I can’t let him keep harming her. Her safety matters more to me.”
“Let me do it then. Let her hate me instead.” His face is solemn.
I know he would do it. He would kill for me. As much as I want to be the one to end the bastard’s life, he’s right.
I nod, handing him the pistol. Then we pull our hats down low to help conceal our faces and exit the truck.