Trapping Sophia: Disciples 6

by Sweet, Izzy

  That though…

  Fuck.

  That doesn’t feel right though, does it?

  I need to make my damn mind up. Make a fucking choice and stick with it.

  In high school, I chose to lock-pick my way to perfect final grades. I chose to cheat on the SATs.

  And I chose to join the Marines instead of doing jail time. I even chose to go with my gut and show off my shooting skills.

  Then I chose to stick my dick inside of the brigadier general’s precious daughter.

  I also chose to listen to my brother, Matthew, when he brought me into the family business.

  All those choices I made freely on my own accord.

  This choice feels like I don’t really have a choice at all, and I don’t like it.

  Back in the Marines, things were easy. I was given a target and a time then it was kill ‘em and move on.

  Just like my sex life—fuck ‘em and go.

  My phone is still filled with all those nasty little pleasures, but like the great fucking Sahara Desert my bedroom is fucking barren now.

  Ever since that one kiss in Elim Park, my life hasn’t been the fucking same…

  This is all Johnathan’s fault.

  If he knew how many times I’ve been tempted to put a bullet in the back of his head from half a mile out…

  I’m sure he wouldn’t sleep so fucking peacefully at night.

  I’ve been outside all of the guy’s houses. Up in a tree or in a bush far enough away that they can’t see me, but I sure as fuck can see them with my scope.

  From Matthew on down the line, I’ve lined them up with my sights like fucking deer.

  They’re all to blame for this.

  I’ve watched over Sophia’s house, too. Watched over her during the night hours. Every time some shit happens in the city, I try to be there if I’m not working.

  A dark and dusty attic is no place to sleep though, and while I try to be home with Mitzy, she’s neglected as fuck.

  Five to eight hours at home, four to six hours at least spent working, and then it’s time to spend the rest of the night watching over the object of my hatred and love.

  She’s driving me fucking insane.

  Or maybe it’s the lack of sleep.

  I’m can’t tell the difference between night and days now.

  Something’s gotta fucking give, my shaking hands are fucking proof of that.

  If I wasn’t deathly afraid of fucking pills and shit like that, I’d ask Andrew or Simon to give me something to help me keep my shit together.

  Maybe sleeping pills or some Xanax.

  Fuck, maybe I should have been hitting up John’s bar to get some liquid relaxation. He sells all that shit that makes you blackout drunk. Though me not being a drinker might be an issue…

  “Fuck!” I scream out loud again as I slam my hand on the steering wheel.

  I need to let out some fucking aggression, and since I can’t fuck my way into slumber…

  Damn it all, I know who I have to fucking call.

  Pressing the speed dial button on the dashboard monitor, there’s a single ring before the call is connected.

  “What is it?” Simon sneers into the phone.

  “What’s the info on the cop who fucked all this shit up?” I ask him.

  “Officer Morrison,” Simon says over the sound of fast typing in the background.

  Morrison, he’s the fucker who didn’t pull back. He’s the fucker who stopped the Russian’s cars and fucking started the snowball effect.

  Two men dead, one of those being Sophia’s father.

  Either he couldn’t follow fucking orders and had to play the hero, or he was ordered to do it by someone else.

  “I want to torture the fucker,” I snarl out to myself and Simon.

  “I’m still looking into his personal records and banking statements,” Simon says. “We need to wait before grabbing him. I’ll have the information soon.”

  “Good enough,” I say, then ask, “Look, I’m going to get Sophia from her dad’s house. Is her phone location still tracked to there?”

  “I’ve strongly advised Matthew against allowing you to do this current action, James,” Simon says.

  “Like I give a fuck!” I snap at him before slamming my thumb on disconnect.

  Fucking straitlaced shitbird.

  Easing off the interstate to head into the south side of Garden City, I feel like running through the red light at the end of the off-ramp. It won’t get me there any faster though. This is an affluent neighborhood, and where the police like to patrol and catch assholes blasting through red lights.

  Turning right off the exit, I goose the pedal to get me up to five miles over the limit. Becoming a sleek shadow as I slip through the traffic.

  I may be in a hurry, but this BMW gives me the same smooth control as my long-barreled rifle. It bends to my wishes and moves as if nothing is in its way.

  Thank fuck I don’t see any cops once I start hitting the suburbs proper. I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t like that I’m barely hitting the brakes for the stop signs.

  Taking a deep breath, I hold it in and count to five before letting it slowly expel from my lungs.

  Gotta get my calm going.

  Gotta get my sanity in check.

  I feel feverish right now. After all this inner turmoil I’ve been dealing with, I’m finally going to be in front of her again.

  Even if I’m not ready for it.

  It’s been seven months…

  And that kiss we shared had me ready to impregnate her right then and there.

  But it was only one fucking kiss.

  I haven’t seen her since she screwed up and got Beth’s ass kidnapped. Not close up, at least.

  She hasn’t seen me since I was a bastard to her.

  The hurt look she had in her eyes when I forced her to go home with Simon… And then the stuff I said at Johnathan’s house…

  Dammit. Dammit. Dammit.

  She hasn’t seen me since Johnathan’s, though I’ve been acting like her fucking stalker.

  I’ve kept her ass from being roofied at a club. Stopped a guy that was following her too close for my taste on a dark street.

  I might have even paid off a credit card or two.

  She’s like this living, talking, walking broken mirror. Bad luck just follows her tight sexy ass everywhere.

  But yeah, she doesn’t even know I give two fucks about her.

  And now my ass is about to come kicking down her door for her own safety.

  Leaning forward, I knock my forehead against the steering wheel a couple times.

  I’m so fucked.

  Fucked with a dildo right up the shit pipe.

  Slowing my car down as I finally reach her street, I take another deep breath and give myself a ten count.

  Just relax, it’s not like that kiss didn’t fucking sear her soul.

  I’ve got that kind of power.

  She hasn’t been dating or talking to any of the douchebags who have been hitting on her.

  I have really damn good lips, so I just need to relax.

  If she fights at all, I’ll just kiss her until she remembers that night in the dark with my arms wrapped around her.

  Damn, she felt so good to have in my arms…

  She felt right.

  Red and blue lights suddenly light up the night, flashing in front of Sophia’s house, and my heart skips a couple of beats.

  Right there, parked in front of her house, is a police car.

  And it’s not long before I see two more police cars coming up quickly behind me.

  Pressing the speed dial, I call that fucker Simon again.

  “What do you not understand about we’re busy?” Simon snips at me.

  “Two police cars are coming up on me and one’s parked at the Chief’s house. They here for me?” I ask quickly.

  “They’re there to speak with the family,” he says curtly, as if he couldn’t care.

  “Is one of th
em Morrison?” I ask.

  “No. He’s still at the scene from what I can tell,” Simon says.

  “Okay, do me a favor, Simon. Tell my big brother, Lucifer, if you can’t give me any more information than this shit, I’ll go in there and find out myself. My way will be bloody and very fucking bad for everyone involved,” I say before disconnecting.

  Pushing the disconnect button on Simon, I force myself to keep an even speed and not rubberneck as I pass Sophia’s house.

  I’ll go wait for news and a time I can take her at the house I have setup to keep watch over her.

  Dammit all to hell, Mitzy is going to kill me.

  2

  James

  It’s been almost twenty-four hours since Sophia’s father was shot in the middle of the fucking street on our watch, and I haven’t been able to get close to her.

  Not only are there fucking cops patrolling outside her house around the clock, there’s even a couple of the fuckers in the house with her.

  I’m tempted, so fucking tempted to go storming in guns a-blazing to get my girl, but I know in the end I would only wind up fucking dead.

  So I can do nothing but fucking wait. Wait and watch.

  Just like I’ve been doing for the past seven fucking months.

  Propped up in the sometimes steaming, sometimes freezing attic of the house directly across from hers, I sigh and try to stretch out the muscles in my back.

  This watching shit is uncomfortable as fuck. I’m either squatting in front of the little window or sitting for hours on end.

  It’s great for the glutes, but hell on the rest of my body.

  My phone starts ringing as soon as I settle back into position and aim my binoculars at the window.

  I check real quick to see if anything has changed during the last sixty seconds or so, but no, all those fucking pigs are still there.

  Fuck.

  Dropping the binoculars, I dig my phone out of my pocket and yank it up to my ear. “What?”

  “Get here now. Lucifer’s requesting you too,” Johnathan growls into my ear.

  Then he hangs up.

  Request. That means Lucifer’s specifically asking for me.

  I remember back in the Marines, at your earliest convenience being said. In reality it meant right the fuck now, don’t fuck around.

  I get that the old man we’ve been keeping on ice is waking up…

  But what the fuck do I have to do with it?

  Hitting the road and driving out to our warehouse, I figure out this is my payment for Sophia. I’ll probably have a whole new list of shit I’ll have to keep on top of as well.

  This is the first installment paid on my dues to the family for the new addition in my life.

  If I didn’t feel so damn… possessed, I guess is the right word, I’d have left her to Simon to deal with. Let him dispose of the collateral damage her fucking father has brought onto us.

  But one damn kiss, one damn punch to the chin, and I’m fucking hooked.

  I simply can’t live a life without her in it.

  Meredith, Simon’s wife, had me dead to rights that night she took over the phone for Simon. She knew the words to keep me from doing something stupid.

  But right now, I’d rather do something real fucking stupid.

  I want to e-brake this car, turn around, and snatch Sophia out from under the noses of all those fucking cops. Steal her away from all the assholes that have been standing between me and her.

  I’d take her up to the mountains and keep her ass in a cabin. Keep her away from the whole outside world.

  I’d get all fucking mountain survivalist man on her.

  The warehouse looms out ahead of me and I grumble at the sight of it.

  Fucking thumbs…

  If I have to handle one more severed thumb, I’m going to stab Simon in the fucking dick.

  Pushing the call button on my dashboard, I dial Harrold then wait for him to pick up.

  “James! Long time no talk, my friend. How’s the property management business going?” Harrold asks with a good-natured laugh.

  Property management, that’s my official story. I own eight different properties across Garden City and four down in the New Orleans area. I rent to the ultra-rich and the extremely poor.

  Come one, come all.

  I’ll give you a roof over your head and broken kneecaps if you don’t pay on time.

  That’s honestly more for the rich though. I make sure all my property managers take care of the poor. No use in fucking the down-trodden even more than they already are.

  “Good, buddy. Good. Like death and taxes, everyone needs a roof over their head,” I say.

  “Ain’t that the damn truth,” he says back. “So what can I do for you?”

  “I’m going to need a carpet cleaning or removal, depending on how bad the last tenant left it,” I say.

  “Alright, I can do that.”

  “Give me a bit to get an idea of when they’ll be gone and I’ll give you a call,” I add.

  “Sounds good,” Harrold says before disconnecting.

  Good, that’s one less thing to worry about. Time to step up to the big leagues and get shit rolling.

  Hopping out of my car, I don’t bother to look around too much. The usual suspects are here. We’re missing a couple of the newest circle members, but that shouldn’t be a problem for now.

  Heading into the building, I just follow the loud laughs and the garbled scream.

  Well, I guess they started without me. Hopefully someone already took the old fart’s thumbs if they need them.

  Lucifer, Andrew, Gabriel, Simon, and John are spread around the room as I walk in.

  Walking up to Simon, who’s sitting at a desk, I watch as he types away into some program. Then I look over to where Andrew is monitoring the old man.

  “How did the waking up go?” I ask.

  Simon tilts his head toward the old man. “He’s doing well, for the time being. Though we don’t know why they had him in a medical coma. No injuries or medical reason that we could easily pinpoint.”

  “Not likely they were planning on using him as a bio-weapon,” I say to myself.

  “No, thankfully not,” Simon replies.

  “Maybe they were keeping him on ice to keep him out of the way of the son?” I ask.

  “Why not just kill him then? Either way, this was too complicated for a simple removal,” Lucifer says as he comes over to join us.

  “What’s he saying?” I ask.

  “Nothing as of yet. We’ve tried to get him to talk, but so far he’s refused even a drink to help moisten the lips,” Lucifer says.

  “Who’s turn is it on the roster to get answers?” I ask and know I should have kept my mouth shut the instant the words slide past my lips.

  Lucifer grins at me. “Why thank you for volunteering, James.”

  “Fuck,” I grumble as I look at the both of them.

  “Do we have anything beyond using his son, Alexei, as motivation?” I ask.

  “Not really,” Simon says with a shrug.

  “Well shit, son’s dead anyways,” I sigh then look to the old man. “We keeping him alive?”

  “Dead would be for the best,” Simon says.

  Lucifer nods his head slowly in agreement. “Yes, that would probably be best.”

  “What about sending him back to them?” I ask.

  Both men look at me with confusion.

  Raising my hands up, I say, “Hear me out.”

  Moving over to sit at the desk across from them both, I notice Simon’s got a bit of blood underneath his nose and his right eye is a little swollen.

  I cast a quick, sideways glance at Gabriel and see that he has dried blood under his nose too.

  Fuckers were having fun without me.

  “We make sure he doesn’t have a way to communicate with them, of course. Remove the tongue, eyes, and puncture the ears. Then we send him back with a love note saying they shouldn’t leave their toys in other people�
��s yards,” I suggest.

  “Why?” Lucifer asks, but I can see he likes what he’s hearing.

  His eyes are getting that diabolical sparkle to them.

  “He was obviously kept alive for a reason, and he was kept under sedation,” I explain. “Something’s not right about that, beyond the obvious. We send him back to them with the hope it causes some serious internal strife. It could cause us one hell of a retaliation… but it could also give us a peek into the deep abyss that serves as their organization.”

  I finish with my hands up again. “Will they freak out the old man’s been sent back? Will they freak out that he might have given us names or operational plans?”

  “I like the idea, but I’m not sure how we could keep him alive long enough to get him back to them,” Simon says.

  “Transportation…” Lucifer says as he looks to me.

  “I’ve already called Harrold for a cleanup. We could use him as the shipper. He’s been known to be pretty neutral, and worse comes to worst, we just drop him off in front of one of their businesses in some state far away from us,” I say.

  “It’s not as if we have to deliver him to Russia itself,” Simon says.

  “Exactly,” I say. “It’s a simple solution that could pay off for us. We could even insert some sort of tracker in the heel of his foot or something. See if we can get a hit on any other locations they may be using.”

  Grinning, Simon looks over to me and nods his head. “I like it. I’ll have Michael pick a tracker up from the compound and we’ll insert it… somewhere.”

  * * *

  I take in the face of the old man lying on the stretcher we brought him in on and I’m reminded of what a father in his advanced years would look like. I never met mine, but this man’s snarling visage…

  It makes me think he probably looks like the father I might have had.

  I can’t be sure though because my father was dead before I ever got a chance to meet him.

  “So, old boy, they’re sending me in for the fun,” I say as I take the wrinkled hand without an IV in it and give it a light shake.

  The old man tries to hock something up on me, but it ends up just dribbling down his chin.

  I guess my bedside manner lacks something.