Chapter 25
“A wolf is no less a wolf because he’s dressed in sheepskin, and the devil is no less the devil because he’s dressed as an angel.” Lecrae
Axel
With me and my pals in the storage area, the bakery truck rattles to a stop at the guardhouse beside the iron gate. While the young Belarusian rolls down his window, I stick my rifle barrel through one of the many rust holes and push it through the thin cushion until I reach flesh.
The kid swallows hard and glances in the rearview mirror as he speaks with the sentry. After a few more pleasantries, the armed man stiffens, grips his AK-47, and swivels his head. I’m guessing like me, he senses the teen’s nervousness.
To remind our driver what might happen if he fucks up, I shove my gun’s metal tip further into his back. I’d hate to shoot him, but I may have no choice. My wife’s life comes first.
Those of us in the box seats let out our collective breaths when the vehicle lurches forward. Twenty seconds later, our Trojan horse stops inside the compound.
One weapons check later, the door swings out. We grab the delivery boy, disarm a surprised soldier, then usher them into the kitchen.
Between the sink and the stove, an aproned chef raises his cleaver but drops it when Slate places a pistol to his ear.
While Rho and Hunt bind the prisoners, I investigate the disturbance in the dining area.
Gwen? As my brain catches up with the scene, my barefoot wife races outside with a furious Ledbetter in pursuit.
Face contorted, blood gushing from his neck, he screams, “You will pay for this, bitch.”
Angrier than I’ve ever been, I jump in front of him. “Do not move, motherfucker.”
The arms dealer who had the audacity to take my wife shifts on his heels and narrows his reptilian gaze.
That’s right, ya moron. Give me an excuse to blow you away. Mindless with rage, I’m about to squeeze the trigger and rid the world of one of its worst scumbags.
Then, Lucky shouts, “Don’t hand him an easy out, mate.”
True. Years in jail would be far worse for a guy like him. Lowering my rifle, I spit at the asshole’s feet. “Put him in the truck. I’m going for Gwen.”
Gun forward, I trot through the egress, step onto the paver stones, and my heart sinks.
Where is she?
While I pause, ten of Ledbetter’s half-dressed militia flee from the front of the building. One sees me and raises his automatic rifle. Jumping, I narrowly miss the spray of bullets.
So much for the element of surprise.
Back inside the building, I follow my team through the bottom floor of the museum-like structure. We race under a keystone arch and past an oak table that could easily seat forty. Dozens of portraits and painted cupids stare at us as we muddy the owner’s pristine white marble floors.
Now, on the castle’s gate-facing side, Suds kneels, breaks a window, aims high, and shoots. After the tower’s occupant screams and falls into the barbed wire, I climb over the broken glass to the well-manicured lawn.
Based on our infrared intel, the scientists mostly stay in the bunker. I need to get inside before my wife ends up as a hostage.
Ledbetter’s ill-trained cockroaches leave the cement building unprotected. Before they return, I grab a pack of C4, tape it to the door, and race to the others huddled around the corner.
“Fire in the hole!” Covering my ears, I press the detonator.
The blast signals the other half of our team, who had been waiting in the forest. While they engage the remaining guards, I sprint into the building.
“Gwen, where the fuck are you?” Unarmed civilians raise their hands overhead as I work my way down the bleak hallway.
“Axel. I’m locked in here.” Her voice, which I feared I would never hear again, opens my emotional floodgates.
Throat tight, blinking hard, I rub my eyes. “Stand clear of the door, babe.”
After she gives me the a-okay, I speak into my mic. “I found the queen.”
Taking aim, I shoot out the lock. When she bursts into my arms, I am so damn thankful, I can’t speak. However, our problems are not over, not by a longshot. A quick hug later, I check her for injuries. Seeing none, tears drip down my cheeks.
“Jesus, Gwen.” It’s both a prayer and a promise. Never again.
Automatic gunfire brings me back to the present, and I push her behind me. “Hold onto my belt. Do not let go. You hear me?”
“Yes sir.” As I laugh at her snide remark, Ink falls in behind us.
I figure the worst is over until Trever’s voice sounds in my ear. “Belarusian authorities on the way. We need to vacate. Now.”
Closer than the front exit, the empty box truck seems our fastest option. As sirens sound in the distance, I swivel.
Without warning, the fucking vehicle bursts into pieces. The concussion drops me on my ass while flames shoot into the sky. No time for thought, I throw my spouse over my shoulder and bolt for the gate.
A tap on my arm tells me Ink has my six. Once the rest arrive at the designated rendezvous, I set my wife on her bare feet and run my hands over her body.
Face sooty black, Gwen cups my cheeks and mouths, “I’m fine.”
Ahh babe. Wishing I could tell her how much I love her, I pull her to my chest and openly weep. I don’t give a damn who sees.
When we break apart, Slate speaks, but I still can’t hear a thing.
Nodding, he indicates we should join the line forming on the path. Surrounded by the team, I will never be able to repay, we grab our belongings and hike back the way we came.
Some of my hearing returns about ten miles in, and by the time we stop for water, I can carry on a conversation.
After answering my questions regarding the rescue, my spouse scrunches up her face. “What about Ledbetter?”
“He was in the bakery truck. Did he hurt you, babe?” I almost wish he was still alive so I could kill him.
Her frown turns into a goofy grin. “It was close, but I corkscrewed him in the neck.”
“That’s the woman I married.” Picturing the bloodied asshole, I pull my wife into a fierce hug, kiss the top of her head, and thank the Lord she had the wherewithal to use her self-defense lessons.