Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

SEBASTIAN

F ive fucking days. It's taken five days to follow the lead Reaper got on this underground ring. We've been on the road. We've been camping out in fields in the middle of nowhere. We've been running on little to no sleep and little to no food. Me, Reaper, and Mo have been in the boondocks between Mississippi and Tennessee on a wild manhunt that feels like it keeps leading us somewhere further. Further from my girl.

I've hardly had time to text her, much less talk to her and I'll admit, I didn't anticipate missing her this goddamn much. We've been together almost every single day since she was freed from her own personal hell. Now I feel like I'm enduring my own sort of personal hell. A wild goose chase while being separated from the woman that I have fallen head over fucking heels for.

Reaper is sitting in the back of the Escalade with a pair of binoculars while Mo snores from the reclined passenger front seat. I'm stuck in the middle row, trying to make out what I can from the darkness of the night and the tinted windows .

Slider was able to make contact with someone in this underground ring and I don't even want to think about the fucking atrocities he had to witness in order to do this for me. The club owes him big, and so do I. There's a meeting that's supposed to go down with who we are thinking is Patrick, but the thing with these meeting times is that it's tricky. They give you a five-day period where they could possibly make a drop, but not definitely.

So here we are. Day five. It has to be today. But we have no idea what time. Also not one hundred percent we got the fucking coordinates right. Everything is encrypted and everything is coded and it's fucking frustrating. If Clyde was in better shape, I'd have drug his ass out here but my luck, that fucker would scream, I'd have to shoot him, and all exchanges would be off because of his loud ass mouth. Instead, here we sit.

There isn't a single fucking vehicle in sight and hasn't been for the last five days. I'm beginning to lose hope that all of this isn't for nothing when I hear it. Tires on gravel. The first car to come down this driveway in days. This is it. The exchange is happening right now. That's another thing. We don't know what the fuck they're exchanging. Slider is inside, but there has been zero contact.

No contact in five days. He's a smart man, much smarter than any of us so I'm inclined to think that he's okay and is just doing his best to blend in. I can't even imagine what that's like. I would've lost my shit on day one and killed them all. Single shot to the balls and let them bleed out and that still wouldn't be sufficient enough for all the sins they've committed.

Reaper is glued to his binoculars, pressing them so hard against the back window that it may shatter at any moment. He's on high alert as the raggedy dark-colored van slows to a stop and the headlights kill. The silence is deafening. The air around us is thick with tension as we watch so closely for any visual of movement. After what feels like a solid hour, the door to the van opens and a man steps out. He's tall, slender, and wearing a blue jean long-sleeve shirt and blue jeans to match. He walks to the front door and knocks. A porch light comes on. It blinks twice. Then is shut off. The man walks slowly back to the van and opens the driver door, sitting down in the seat.

The light from a cell phone illuminates the cab, allowing me to see that the windows are all completely blacked out. The two-story farmhouse feels like it's mocking me as the trees around it sway with the light breeze blowing through. I want to know what the fuck is going on. My heart pounds. Adrenaline courses through my veins. I reach over and tap Mo on the shoulder. Whatever is about to go down, he needs to be awake for it.

"That was the signal that everything is okay and it's a go."

Reaper's words are distant compared to the roaring, racing thoughts inside my mind. His words barely register as I continue to focus on the propped open door of the van. Watching. Waiting. If it's him, and god I fucking hope it is, this night is just getting started.

"What's the plan?" I ask.

We haven't talked much about what we were going to do if the information actually checked out.

"Regardless of it's the man we're searching for, this house gets shut down tonight."

"Good by me," Mo grunts, sitting up in the front seat.

I glance down at my phone.

Bristol: Miss you.

I type out a response and lock it, turning it on do not disturb so nothing crazy happens like in the movies when people forget to silence their phones and end up getting caught because it rang or a text message came through. I slip it into my back pocket. I would've slid it into my cut-off but we aren't wearing colors tonight.

These sick fucks will know who did this, they just don't need to know it at first glance. We need to blend into normalcy as much as possible at first. Once we've secured the place, I'll let them know who they're dealing with if Reaper and Mo don't beat me to it first.

"Hey!" Reaper whisper-shouts, pointing at the house.

I have to focus to even see it at first. There's a figure on the side of the house. No. Two figures. They're moving in sync from the back around the side, barely noticeable with their dark clothes against the dark wood of the house. Reaper probably only saw it through his binoculars because he's been staring at it so hard.

The two figures move almost as one. Reaper grabs his pistol and opens the back hatch of the Escalade, giving us a nod of his head to follow. We do as instructed, and duck down; crouching down and doing some fucked up duck walk through the tall grass of the field. Mo moves the quietest out of the three of us, which shocks the fuck out of me because he's not only the widest but the biggest in every fucking way.

If I weren't so focused, I'd laugh. We're all on high alert, listening for any sound or movement. Guns drawn, focus on. We move as a unit through the cover of the grass. Reaper stops and lifts his hand. My eyes are fully adjusted to the darkness. We're not far inside the grass now. A few feet. Just enough to not be seen.

I zone in, but I can't get my eyes on the two figures. They were on the side of the house and now I'm not sure where they are. Reaper doesn't seem concerned, he's hyper focused on something. Someone. I assume it's the people that were on the side of the house.

A gunshot rings inside and chaos ensues. The front door flings open and Slider comes out, guns blazing.

"It's go time, boys!" he yells, his loud voice echoing through the open air.

We all jump to our feet and storm the house. Reaper goes around the side, Mo goes straight through the front door with Slider, and I press my pistol to the temple of the man in the driver's seat of the van.

He throws his hands up and doesn't move a muscle, his body rigid beneath the imminent threat of death. Pussies. Every fucking last one of them. They only abuse the ones who aren't strong enough to fight back. It takes everything I have not to pull the fucking trigger and end his life right here, right now.

"Name!" I demand.

I grab his arm and drag him out of the van, slamming him face first against the back glass.

"Art!" He shouts, a tear streaming down his face.

What the fuck?

"My name is Art!"

I rear back and hit him as hard as I can in the temple with my pistol, knocking him out. I'll deal with him later. I need to clear the van. Who knows what the fuck they have going on in here and in that house. I'm disgusted and appalled at the whole situation.

I pull a bandana out of my pocket and bind blue jean boy's hands together. He doesn't move. I haul him up into the driver's seat and use his seatbelt as a bind, running it between his hands, around an arm and then buckling him in where his hands are bound by the steering wheel so he can't get free.

I open the back door of the van with my gun drawn, unsure of what may be waiting for me inside. Two sets of eyes stare back at me. Wide-eyed, scared, and dirty, sits two small boys, no older than ten years old. They're crying and breathing quickly through their noses while their mouths are bound.

"It's okay. I'm here to help," I say, lowering my weapon and shoving it in the back of my jeans.

They hesitantly scoot to the end of the van and I begin untying their hands and removing the gags from their mouths. They don't speak a word and they don't move. They only sit there, trembling, staring at me. Waiting to see if I really am the good guy.

"Listen, there's a vehicle in that grass. I want you to run to it and climb in the back and hide. Don't come out or open it for a soul unless it's me. Go!" I say, directing them to the Escalade.

They take off running, both barefoot and scared, through the tall grass. I don't wait to see that they make it, instead I head inside. I've heard no more gunshots but that doesn't mean a damn thing. There are two men I don't recognize inside the living room, kneeling and bound with scuffs on their faces. Slider and Reaper are standing in front of them, pistols aimed at them.

"You're going to tell me where I can find Patrick, understand?" Reaper tells the heftier of the two. He looks like he still lives at home with mom in her basement at fifty. He looks terrified, like he's never had a gun pointed at his head before. Good. He's the type to piss himself when the interrogation starts getting good. And it will.

The other pervert is scrawny. Middle-aged. He has metal-frame glasses on his nose, with the right one cracked. Likely from Reaper or Slider. Mo would've broken the damn things into his eye. He doesn't seem the least bit phased by the altercation. He's got a cocky arrogance about him. He doesn't know what's coming.

The momma's boy starts to speak. "I—I—I don't know how to find him. I swear!"

"I think you do," Reaper growls, taking a step forward and pressing the barrel of his gun hard beneath the man's chin. It's pressed so hard that it begins to disappear inside the flabby second chin.

"You're not going to find him. He doesn't want to be found," scrawny guy says, smugly.

I punch him in the nose, blood immediately pouring down his face. His face contorts as he hangs his head down, unable to get his hands free to cup his face.

He doesn't say another word. Just sits there with blood running over his lips. If he so much as thinks of spitting that fucking shit in my direction, I'll kill him. Right the fuck here.

" Ay !" Mo's hoarse voice drags all of our attention to the doorway at the side of the living room that leads to what I assume is the kitchen.

"Found this pervert in training down in the basement with a girl being held there."

He shoves the young kid into the living room, his hands already bound behind his back. Slider motions for him to join the others. He can't be any older than twenty, if that. My stomach turns. These men, and I use that term loosely in reference to whatever the fuck these people are, make me absolutely fucking sick. And angry. So fucking angry.

Mo motions for us to meet him in the kitchen. I give Slider a look and he only nods. He's got this handled. Reaper and I duck out to talk to Mo.

"What are we going to do about this?" I ask.

"We take these bastards to sit with Clyde and then have it called in. We'll let the girl in the basement call. She knows nothing about us, and only that we saved her."

Mo's answer is simple.

"Perfect. Let me go get the two kids from the Escalade."

"Two kids?" Mo asks, raising his brows.

"Yeah. The bastard outside had two small boys in the van that he was probably dropping off. I sent them to go hide in the Escalade."

"Jesus fucking Christ." Mo pinches the bridge of his nose. His eyes glass over with rage and he storms out of the room, straight to the living room. He grips the young boy by the shirt and lifts him up, screaming unintelligible threats as he pummels his free hand into the kid's ribs.

I cringe internally with every blow because the sound of cracking echoes each time he makes a connection.

"You lying little motherfucker!" Mo shouts, throwing him down on the ground. The kid is coughing and wheezing, knees curled to his chest. His face is so red it's almost purple and I'm not entirely sure he isn't going to die right here. Fuck him if he does.

"I'm going to load these bastards up. Go get those kids and bring them in here. Away from the prying eyes of these bottom feeders."

Bottom feeders is a good term. Scum of the fucking earth sounds a little better, but my brother is never wrong in public.

I make it to the Escalade and find the boys holed up exactly where I told them to go. They're devouring a bag of potato chips and they've drank every last drop of water from the gallon that we bought earlier and had sitting on the floorboard. These poor fucking kids.

They both look wild, like stray kittens that have been spotted and are debating on whether to run or cry out. One of them opens the hatch and immediately begins apologizing.

" Shh . It's okay, buddy. There's plenty more where that came from. Come on. We're going to bring you to meet a nice young lady that's going to help you. Is that okay?"

They look unsure but one of them nods and climbs out of the Escalade, holding the bag of chips tight to his chest. I walk behind them as they slowly make their way to the house. The look in their eyes makes my blood run cold. I have never seen so much fear in a child's face in my life. They are absolutely fucking terrified that this is a setup. A joke. Looking at them, they're just waiting for the shoe to drop. To find out that we are just like those men that were about to trade them.

This is one instance, I'm proud to be a disappointment because they will never have to worry about something like this happening to them ever again. I direct the boys around the back of the house. Those sick fucks in the living room don't deserve to even look in these kids' direction. Reaper greets us at the back door and leads us down the stairs to the basement where a teenage girl is sitting patiently. Mo is sitting a few feet away from her on a folding metal chair, his hands resting on his thighs. The look on his face is distant and gives away no insight to what he may be thinking.

The two boys eye him suspiciously, the taller of the two placing himself instinctively between the smaller boy and Mo. A protective move only a brother would feel compelled to do. Now that I have the thought, I can see the resemblance between them.

"What are your names?" I ask, kneeling in front of the protective brother.

"I'm Johnny and this is my brother Cash. "

I smile at their names. "Your parents have good taste in music," I chuckle.

"Listen, you're going to sit with this nice young lady until the cops get here, okay guys?"

Johnny nods and sits down next to the young girl, who is dirty and in stained and torn clothing. There are drops of dried blood on her jeans and my stomach churns. I cannot wait to watch the life leave the eyes of these soulless bottom feeders.

Mo motions for me to follow him and I do. I don't want to think about the fucking horrors these kids have been through and not looking at them helps to push that thought to the back of my mind for now.

The living room is vacant of the men that were doing their dealings here. Slider is standing in the doorway of the front door with his forearm propped up on the door frame.

I approach him and extend a hand. "Appreciate you."

He shakes my hand, pulling me in for a half-ass hug and pat on the back. "Happy to help, brother."

"Let's blow this popsicle stand before the cops show up, whaddaya say boys?" Reaper asks, appearing behind Slider in the doorway.

"Let's roll," Mo says, pointing toward the Escalade in the field.

"You two take the Escalade. I'm going to drive the perv van." The amount of joy on Reaper's face should be illegal. He takes way too much pride in torturing the shit out of people. It's a good thing he can buy his way into and out of nearly everything in this damn world.

Mo and I make our way to the Escalade and I toss him the keys.

Reaper follows the Escalade down the long and winding gravel drive that we came down the other day when we arrived for this stake out. I feel a sense of relief as we drive away from this godforsaken place.

I'm so lost inside my own head that when a loud booming explosion sounds, I nearly jump out of my skin. The farmhouse we are driving away from is engulfed in flames. My heart sinks in my chest and I swear I'm going to fucking throw up as Mo whips the Escalade around, slamming the gas and hauling ass back to the house.

"Fuck!" he shouts. He throws it in park a couple hundred feet from the burning house and we both bolt out. All I can think is that I fucking left those kids and that girl inside this fucking house thinking they would be safe and I've failed them. I'm running so hard that my lungs and legs are burning. I barrel toward the back door and fling it open, jerking my hand back as the metal burns into my skin.

The house is burning. Everything inside is on fucking fire. Mo stands beside me at the back door. We have to do something. A loud cracking noise comes from somewhere upstairs, and I hear the shrieks of the boys. I have to get to them.

"We have to get in there!" I shout.

I've never felt like much of a hero. I don't know what that's like. I've always been a selfish man, usually looking out for myself and the people close to me and that's it. But I am compelled to save these children. All three of them.

I take a deep, cleansing breath before I shove my way inside, fighting the flames as I try to get to the stairs to the basement. It's so smoky I'm struggling to see my way around and the fire is hot . My skin feels like it is going to melt off at any given moment.

I find the stairs and clear them two at a time. The basement is smoky, but not as bad as the main floor. The girl and the two boys are in the corner. She has her hands wrapped around them, protecting them.

All three run to me. And now I have to figure out how the fuck we are all getting out of here. The flames are relentless, burning through the frame of the house quicker than I can fathom. The cracks and booms of pieces of the house falling apart makes everyone jump with each sound, me included.

I hear knocking and scan the room. There's a small window in the upper left-hand side of the room. Mo knocks a few times then shoves his fist through it, shattering it and sending glass flying everywhere.

"Bring them here!" he yells.

I rush over with the kids and send them up to him one by one. First the smallest boy, then the other. Finally, I send the girl through. The window isn't big enough for me. The small girl barely fit and I'm twice as wide as she is, at minimum. Mo and I share a look before he speaks.

"Go back out the way you came!" he shouts.

It's smokier now, even with the window busted out down here. The house is burning fast and I'm in the motherfucking basement. Pieces of burning wood begin falling around me and the smoke is so thick and it's flooding in through the only door that leads out of here. I make a run for it, convinced I'm going to do exactly what I did to get down here. Take the steps two at a time and bolt for the back door. I make it up two stairs when the floor above me caves in, landing on top of me. It's heavy and it knocks the wind from my lungs when it falls. I struggle to free myself from the debris that has me trapped, and the more I fight, the harder it is to breathe.

Dark spots blur around the edges of my vision and though I'm fighting to get out, I can't breathe. The air down here is too thick. I kick my foot hard, trying to get free and the last thought that crosses my mind before I black out is Well… fuck.