Zephyr
I fought to keep my mind on what we were doing, not back home with Everlyn.
I hoped between the time I left and when I returned, she’d be able to at least listen to me as I tried to explain why I withheld knowledge of my medical license.
It was a mixed bag of guilt and not wanting to make Slayer relive another heartbreak.
She had effectively lost two children. I was a doctor. I should be saving them.
The three-hour drive to the Blakely address we got off Ducky took two and a half hours. The traffic was light. We didn’t advertise ourselves. We rode in the Suburban we used to take Everlyn to Mobile. Seven of us large men crammed into it. We left our cuts at home, too.
We didn’t drive straight up to it. That would’ve been stupid and allowed him time to start shooting or even sneak out the back, if he had a way out.
Instead, we stopped along the road, pulling off into the trees about half a mile from the place.
Fenrir had been on the phone with us, providing more in-depth information about the surroundings as he found them.
We crept soundlessly through the trees, making our way to the house.
Our weapons were out. Yes, we couldn’t kill him, but we could hurt him.
And it would be a fight to capture him and bring him back to the compound.
Once there, we’d figure out what to do with Wick in the long term.
As for Ducky, if his information were accurate, he would at least have a swift and merciful death.
We hated that we were doing this in the daylight, but we couldn’t afford to wait until tonight. Our clock was ticking. The house sat back away from the road with no other houses within sight of it. Once we had him, one of us would bring the Suburban to the house.
At the edge of the clearing that surrounded the actual house, a small, somewhat worn cottage, we divided into two groups.
My group went to the back door with Thor and Berserker, while the others went to the front.
We waited, and when the tiny alarm on Thor’s watch went off—our pre-arranged entry alert—Berserker kicked in the locked back door while the other group breached the front.
Even our loud entry couldn’t cover the sound of swearing and the pounding of feet, then a slam.
Moving further inside, we cleared rooms on either side of the hallway we came into and listened for our other team.
By the time we made it to the living room, which had a television on and empty pizza boxes and beer cans on the table in front of a couch, we hadn’t seen anyone.
Invader and Barbarian came tromping down the stairs from the second floor, shaking their heads. Pirate and Plunderer were doing the same in the living room.
“I know I heard the bastard. He couldn’t have gotten past us,” Pirate muttered.
“What about a basement?” I asked.
“We opened every door,” Pirate said.
So had we. And that included closets. While we stood there talking, trying to figure out how Wick got past us and what the next move was, Thor moved around the room in a circle. I didn’t pay much attention to him until his hand touched the wall. That registered.
“What’re you doing, Thor?” I asked.
“Searching. I know he was here. If every door were opened, that would mean the entrance to a basement or hidey-hole is hidden. The TV is on. He was in here. He didn’t have time to go far. That means the entrance should be somewhere in this room. We just need to find it,” was his answer.
His words energized all of us. We spread out and began touching every supposed wallpaper seam, along the chair rail, and even the books on the bookshelf.
It was Plunderer who found it. The secret catch was cleverly hidden along the side of the bookcase.
When he pressed on it, there was a faint clicking sound, and the edge of the case moved half an inch away from the wall.
Gathering behind him, the bookcase was eased open.
A staircase, reminiscent of ours, into the clubhouse loomed before us.
There was a faint overhead light to guide you down it.
It was a choke point, requiring us to go down it one at a time, but there was no way around it.
All I hoped was that there wasn’t an escape tunnel down there like at home.
We gained the basement floor without being shot at.
It was musty, filled with junk, and provided several hiding places.
We split up and began searching, leaving Thor to guard our backs and the stairs.
I was the one to find Wick. He was well-hidden, burrowed back in a pile of discarded scrap wood like a tick.
I don’t know how he got in there, but it was a struggle to haul his ass out.
He fought us every inch of the way. He swore at us, calling us every foul name he thought of.
When he was yanked free and stood up under another basement light, I got a good look at his face.
We all recognized him. Only when we were with Aksel, he was called Olav. He was part of Aksel’s inner circle. He was wearing a cut that proclaimed his road name, Wick, and his position as secretary.
“Well, look what we have here. If it isn’t that fucking asshole, Olav. How are you doing, Olav?” Pirate asked.
“Fuck you, Bjorn,” Olav spat at him.
“The name is Pirate. And didn’t anyone teach you it’s not nice to spit? We’ll take care of that.”
Our VP pulled a bandanna out of his back pocket and used it to gag Olav. Once Olav was muzzled, Pirate continued as if nothing had happened.
“We’re going on a little trip. We have so many people who’ll love to see you. You and your fucking freak of a buddy, Aksel, messed with the wrong ones. You should’ve stayed away. Now, you have our attention. Too bad for you.”
From there, it was short work to send Thor to fetch the Suburban, get Olav upstairs, collect his cell phone and laptop from the bedroom on the second floor, and then search his car. The registration was taken. We took anything that could identify him or benefit to us.
Fifteen minutes later, we had him crammed in the third row of seats between Barbarian and Invader.
We left as easily and quietly as we entered.
It was anticlimactic. I knew the real work would begin once we got him back to the compound and locked up with his pal, Ducky.
I was anxious to hear if Olav knew anything that Ducky didn’t.