Chapter 5 #2
Tiny and Brick both went down on one knee and brought their weapons up at the ready. There was shouting, both English and Russian, and Brick remained tense as they waited to learn what had transpired.
Within moments, one of the men from Colorado stuck his head out the door and nodded to them. “Situation’s under control.”
“Alaska?” Brick asked.
The man pressed his lips together and shook his head slightly before disappearing back inside.
“We’re gonna find her,” Tiny said as they stood, a hand on Brick’s shoulder. It was all he could do not to fall to his knees. The sense that he’d failed the one person who’d been there for him—who’d always been there for him—fell heavy on his shoulders.
Without responding to Tiny, he entered the warehouse.
About three dozen employees had been corralled into a corner, being watched over by several members of the spetsnaz. Four of the mercenaries were standing by an office door, weapons drawn.
He made a beeline for them.
Ignoring the warning in Tiny’s voice as he called his name, Brick didn’t hesitate. At his arrival, the men parted, giving him space to get by and see what was happening inside the room.
A man, dressed in a three-piece suit, was lying on the floor with his hands wrenched behind his back. There was blood beneath him, spreading at an alarming rate. But he wasn’t cowed. Wasn’t begging for his life. In fact, when Brick stepped into the room, the man smirked.
“Let me guess. You’re the husband. This…Drake person?” the man sneered.
Brick nodded once.
“Should’ve known the bitch had something up her sleeve. Are you even her husband?”
“Yes,” he said shortly.
“She must be a fantastic fuck because she’s dull as dirt,” the man said.
Brick lunged forward to beat the shit out of the unarmed asshole, but the men on either side of him grabbed his arms, stopping him.
The spetsnaz operatives standing guard obviously didn’t care for the man’s words either, or maybe it was the tone of his voice. Whatever the case, both moved at the same time, kicking him on either side of his torso.
The man grunted, then coughed, blood spewing from his mouth to spray across the concrete floor.
“You’ll never find her,” he gasped when he could breathe once again.
“She’ll be fucked by hundreds of men across Asia.
My client is generous like that. Doesn’t mind sharing.
Of course, that’s because he gets paid a pretty penny by men who want a chance to do all the kinky shit they’ve dreamed about doing to a woman but haven’t had the opportunity.
He’s fucking loaded. Always gets what he wants.
And this time, he wanted an American for his stable. ”
Brick’s throat burned with rage. He wanted to tell the man to shut the fuck up, but he knew as well as everyone in the room that the more the man talked, the more likely it was he’d let something slip that would lead them to their target.
No, not their target…to Alaska.
“She was so easy to dupe.” The man laughed.
“They always are. Stupid tourists, here to sightsee…all it takes is one day of buttering them up, lowering their guard. Then, boom—the next time they step into the van, they’re ours.
” He laughed again, blood dripping from his chin. The sound grated on Brick’s nerves.
“I’m dying. We all know it. But I still win.
I’ve got operatives all over this fucking country.
Government officials who are easily bribed to look the other way.
Weak men who do my organization’s bidding because if they don’t, it’ll be their sisters, mothers, daughters who will disappear.
You might’ve caught me—but you’ll never stop us.
There’s too much money in peddling pussy. ”
Brick couldn’t hold himself back anymore. Wrenching out of the mercenaries’ hold, he went down on one knee in front of the asshole, fisting the man’s hair and tilting his head up. “Where is she, you motherfucking piece of shit?” he growled in his face.
The man just smiled. An evil smile that made shivers shoot down Brick’s spine.
“Gone. She’ll be delivered to my client, nothing but a vessel for thousands of men to stick their dicks into.”
Brick didn’t hesitate. His arm moved without conscious input from his brain. He slammed the man’s face into the floor as hard as he could.
Then he did it again. And again.
None of the men standing around made a move to stop him this time. It was obvious they knew the world would be a better place without this fucker in it.
It was Tiny who finally made him stop. He put a hand on his shoulder and said, “Brick. It’s done. He’s dead.”
Brick realized he was breathing hard as he let go of the man’s hair and stood.
Never once, in all the years he’d been a SEAL, had he let his emotions get the better of him.
But he’d never been in a situation like this.
A woman he considered one of his oldest and dearest friends was missing, and the future awaiting her—the one this dead asshole had laid out so clearly—was abhorrent.
He heard the Russians talking amongst themselves but didn’t know what they were saying. And it didn’t matter.
Where was Alaska?
Frustration rose within him. Killing the piece of shit who’d kidnapped her felt good, but it didn’t fix the problem.
Brick turned and strode out of the suddenly too-small office. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air. He pushed past the men at the doorway and stopped once he was in the warehouse proper. He took a breath. Then another.
Before he knew it, he was panting. Breathing far too fast.
He looked at the men huddled in the corner, staring at him and the Russian special forces.
They were terrified, that was obvious, but Brick didn’t give a shit.
They had to have seen something. Had to know something.
There were no innocents here. Alaska wasn’t the first woman who’d been abducted and brought here, that was clear.
Brick jumped in surprise when one of the spetsnaz soldiers yelled from behind him. His voice echoed in the room and all of the employees’ eyes flew to the man. A few more things were said to the group, and Brick prayed the words were threats.
None of the employees moved.
Brick’s shoulders slumped.
The men clearly didn’t want to talk—and he couldn’t exactly blame them.
The dead man lying in the office wasn’t working alone.
He had others who would most certainly take over his operation.
If any of the employees spoke up, they’d be dead by morning.
Or their loved ones would disappear, just as countless other women had.
Without a word, Brick headed for the door. He needed out. He’d failed Alaska—and it was taking everything he had not to break down right then and there.
He could sense Tiny following him but he didn’t stop. He exited the warehouse and stared at the Conex containers all around him. There had to be hundreds…thousands. All waiting to be filled with the electronics being boxed up in the warehouse. They’d be shipped to who the hell knew where.
The thought of women being packed up along with the goods, delivered to deviants who’d paid for sex slaves, was the last straw for Brick.
He managed a single step to the side before emptying his stomach.
Throwing up didn’t make him feel any better. He felt contaminated just standing there. Had Alaska stood in this exact spot? Had she known what was going to happen to her? She had to. He opened his mouth to puke again, stomach heaving. Nothing came out but bile.
“Brick!” an urgent voice called from the doorway. “Get in here!”
It was one of the mercenaries. Numbly, Brick headed back inside the warehouse, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand as he went.
“One of the employees broke. He saw Alaska,” the man—Gray, his team called him— said quietly.
“What? Are we sure he’s not lying?” Brick asked.
“As sure as we can be. He looks terrified. Said he has a sixteen-year-old daughter. Asshole claims she’s being watched, and if he did or said anything about what was going on here, she’d disappear like so many others had.”
“You think we can trust him?”
Gray snorted. “Do we have a choice?”
Brick pressed his lips together, knowing he was right.
“The spetsnaz promised him and his family protection if he cooperated. And if his info panned out.”
“Where is she? What kind of intel did he have?”
“Like we thought—she was put into one of the containers.”
“Which one?” Brick asked. That was the million-dollar question. Without knowing which box, or at least what train she was on, it would be impossible to find her.
“Four-two-one-seven. He said that’s the number of the container. He wasn’t sure where it was going, but he swears he saw an American woman being dragged inside before it was loaded, then placed on a railcar.”
Brick’s heart came back to life with a vengeance. It beat so hard and fast it was physically painful. He looked around, as if the Conex would magically appear in front of him. “How long ago? Where is it?”
“Last night. The Russians are tracking it now.”
Distress clawed at Brick. Last night. At least twenty-four hours. Even one hour was too long to be locked in a fucking container.
He needed to be moving. Doing something. If necessary, he’d track that damn box all the way across the country.
Time was of the essence. The metal Conex containers couldn’t possibly have a lot of air. And did she have food? Water? Was she hurt? The sooner they found Alaska, the better her chances of survival.
Time seemed to slow. Seconds seemed like minutes. Minutes like hours. All Brick could do was pace, waiting, praying the spetsnaz would be able to locate the container.
Tiny had left Brick’s side, watching and listening as the Russians went through files on the computer in the asshole’s office. No one had moved him from where he lay on the floor, surrounded by blood. Brick wasn’t sorry he’d broken the man’s face and accelerated his death. Not in the least.
Then Tiny came out of the room. Brick tried to read his expression.