Devoted

by Shirleen Davies

  Making a hand signal at Wrangler, Tracker flattened himself on the ground, edging his way to the window’s midpoint. Rising as far as possible, he leaned against the sill, hoping to hear what was being said. No luck, but he did notice two windows on his side of the house, one open a crack.

  Flattening his body again, he scooted backward. At the edge of the house, he looked at Wrangler, pointed to himself, then to the side of the house. Giving an affirmative nod, Wrangler remained at his current position.

  Crouching below the open window, Tracker rose enough to peer inside and listened.

  “If Abernathy wasn’t at the meet spot, where is he, Able?”

  “How the hell should I know? We waited for almost two hours and he didn’t show, Bert.”

  “What about going to his house?”

  “Sonofabitch wouldn’t give me his address, Carl. Not that I thought he would. The man is paranoid.”

  Tracker studied each face, memorizing their names. Able, Bert, and Carl. That meant the fourth one was Duncan, the youngest. Four men who’d taken a contract to kidnap the woman he loved, along with the woman he guessed Moses loved. Beautiful, smart women with big hearts who gave back through their professions.

  His focus moved to Julia and Tori. They appeared to be disinterested in the men’s conversation. Anyone who knew them understood they heard and retained every word. They now knew Police Chief Abernathy had hired the brothers to abduct them.

  Tracker thought of the promise Ethan had extracted from the lawman. Within forty-eight hours, Abernathy would resign his position for personal reasons. Within a month, he and his wife would leave the state and never return. The agreement had angered Tracker and several of his teammates who thought the man should stand trial. They understood the reasons, though.

  There were too many holes Abernathy could exploit to get off, including that he’d been coerced to confess. Forcing him to resign and leave the area achieved a great deal without the possibility the man might walk away from any charges. As Tracker thought about it further, it would also shield Julia and Tori from testifying. God only knew what Armando would do when he learned his daughters had been taken. The town didn’t need a war between a major drug cartel, a criminal lawman, and an outlaw MC.

  “Tracker, Wrangler, more headlights coming toward you. Repeat. Find cover and wait for my orders.”

  “Roger, Prez,” both men responded.

  Bending at the waist, Tracker ran across the open area to the shelter of the trees, crouching down with his weapon ready. He saw three sets of headlights.

  “Three SUVs approaching your position. Stay back and observe. Repeat. Do not engage unless the hostages are threatened.”

  Licking his lips, Tracker touched his earpiece. “Affirmative, Wrath.” He heard Wrangler do the same.

  “Do you have an ID on them, Prez?” Tracker asked.

  “Negative. The rest of the team is getting into position.”

  It wasn’t until the vehicles pulled into the drive, blocking the other trucks, that they realized what was happening. Four men climbed out of each SUV, all covered from head to foot in black, each carrying a large handgun with silencer. From one, two bound men wearing hoods were pulled from the back and thrown to the ground. Abernathy and Burn. The police chief still wore the clothes from earlier in the evening, and Burn had on his cut. Neither made a sound, indicating they’d been gagged.

  “Sonofabitch. Who are these guys?” Tracker spoke through the comm unit. “They have silencers, Wrath. I’ve got to get to the women.”

  “Negative, Tracker. Repeat. Do not approach.”

  “But—”

  “That’s an order. Do not approach or engage except on my command.”

  A heartbeat, then two passed before Tracker responded. “Roger.”

  Wrangler waited a moment before talking into the radio. “I count twelve, plus Abernathy and Burn, Prez. All carrying .45 or 9mm handguns with silencers. This doesn’t bode well. Tracker’s right. We need to get the women out.”

  “Ghost, report.”

  “In position, Prez.”

  “Rock?”

  “In position.”

  Tracker looked to his left and right, spotting Fuse and Rock. He assumed Ghost, Gunner, Raider, and Fargo were spread out between them and Wrangler.

  The teams watched as they grabbed Abernathy and Burn by the arms, dragging them up the small stoop. Kicking open the door, they shoved the bound men into the room, then rushed in behind them.

  The instant they were all inside, Tracker rushed forward, ignoring Wrath’s command to stop. Crouching below the window, he raised enough to look.

  Tracker touched his earpiece. “They’ve surrounded the brothers and put a protective shield in front of the women.” Several seconds passed before he spoke again. “One of the men is stepping behind Abernathy and Burn. He’s lifting his gun, and…shit.” Two pops sounded. “Abernathy and Burn are dead, Prez.”

  “Roger that. Ghost and Rock, move your teams to surround the house. Stay out of sight of the front door.”

  Both replied, giving orders to their men before rushing into position.

  “The shooter is speaking to the rest of his guys,” Tracker reported. “They’re herding the brothers into the back. Does anyone have eyes on the bedrooms?”

  “I’ve got them,” Ghost answered. “They’ve split them into two rooms. Six tangos in one, five in the other. They’re shoving the brothers to their knees.” Four more pops sounded, four bodies slumping to the floor. “Christ Jesus. They’ve shot the brothers.”

  “Where’s the twelfth man?”

  “Next to Julia and Tori,” Tracker reported. Heart thumping in an erratic beat, he pulled his SIG 9mm from its holster, using the opening under the window to aim at the man staring down at the women. “Make a move, you sonofabitch. Just one move,” he murmured through the radio, uncaring that the others heard.

  “Hold your position, Tracker.”

  Breathing in and out, his jaw clenched at Wrath’s order. His eyes grew wide, finger freezing on the trigger when the man removed his mask.

  “Clever bastard,” Rock muttered over Tracker’s shoulder.

  “Report.”

  “It’s Quintero, Prez,” Rock responded.

  “Which one?”

  “Armando.”

  A snort cracked through the radio. “Affirmative, Rock. He is a real clever bastard,” Wrath said.

  Julia and Tori stared at their father, unable to move from their seated positions. When Armando held out his arms, they reacted by rising, moving into them.

  “The others are returning.”

  “Roger that, Rock.”

  “Diego,” Tracker murmured when a second man removed his mask.

  “Retreat to cover. Repeat. Everyone retreat to cover.” Wrath’s words spurred them into action. All but Tracker.

  “This includes you, man.” Rock’s hand clutched his shirt, dragging Tracker away from the window and shoving him toward the trees. “They aren’t going to harm the girls after they just rescued them.”

  Falling to his knees, Tracker breathed in and out. He’d been prepared to take out Armando Quintero. A part of him wished he’d made the shot. Another, the one wanting to protect Julia from more hurt, accepted why he hadn’t. Killing her father would be something she might never forgive.

  “They’re loading the women into one of the SUVs,” Ghost reported through the comm. “Coming your way, Prez.”

  “Roger that. Everyone stay in place. Wait for the others to pull out.”

  “Oh yeah. This is going to be good.”

  Tracker looked up at Fuse’s words. The remaining men grabbed cans of what appeared to be accelerant from the backs of both SUVs. A couple went back into the house while the others walked the perimeter, leaving a trail of the liquid accelerant around the outside.

  Meeting back at the vehicle, all but one climbed inside. Turning the SUV around, they drove twenty yards away and stopped. Picking up four sticks wrappe
d with material, the last man soaked each one. Lighting one at a time, he tossed two at the outside front corners. He threw the last two inside. After a satisfying burst of fire, he turned and ran, jumping into the back seat before the SUV roared away.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Both teams watched, not interfering while the men dumped cans of gasoline inside and around the perimeter of the wooden structure. Dry grass and dead brush crowded the outside walls. Perfect for their purpose. Along with the wooden floors and upholstered furniture of the interior, the fire wouldn’t take long to fully engulf the small building.

  As the last man lit the makeshift torches, the teams moved farther away, giving themselves at least fifty feet between them and the house.

  Wrath’s order came through the comm units. “Ghost and Rock, your teams are to hold their positions. Do not engage. Be ready to move when the SUV leaves.”

  “Roger,” both responded, everyone waiting, watching as the torches landed on the gasoline.

  A few seconds passed before the combination of fire and accelerant snapped, popped, then crackled as the flames roared to life.

  All the men had seen fires in battle, many started by triggering an improvised explosive device. An IED would be detonated, blowing the military truck or other target off the road, often resulting in a fire. Few had seen an intentional fire set with the use of accelerants.

  The small home didn’t have a chance. Neither did the bodies inside. A minute after the flames began, all walls and the roof were consumed, the wind helping to grow the fire.

  “Status,” Wrath asked, his voice rising to be heard over the harsh sounds of the blaze.

  “We’re clear, Prez.”

  “Roger, Ghost. Our work is done here. Return to transportation. We need to get out of here before the first responders arrive.”

  Turning to Ethan, Wrath shook his head. “What the hell happens now?”

  “You mean about Abernathy?”

  “Yeah.” Wrath watched his men load into the vehicles. Ghost sat in the driver’s seat of the truck. He’d drive the van.

  “Not my problem any longer.”

  Starting the engine, Wrath pulled onto the narrow road, thankful the closest other building was at least a quarter mile away. Following the truck to the main highway, he shot a look at his brother, aware of the men in the back.

  “This happened in the county. Your jurisdiction.”

  “It’s the same process.” Ethan heard the approaching sirens, then saw the lights emerge around a turn in the road. Two trucks flew by. “They’re here sooner than I expected.” A few beats later, an ambulance followed.

  Once past them, Wrath shot him a glance. “The process?”

  “The first responders will do their jobs. I’ll be called when they discover bodies in the debris. The bodies, or what’s left of them, will be taken to the morgue. If possible, autopsies will be performed.”

  Wrath snorted, but didn’t comment. Ethan ignored him.

  “My deputies will take statements from anyone who might have seen something. Certainly from the person who called in the fire. Eventually, the bodies will be identified, families notified, memorials planned. The powers that be will have a ceremony for the deceased police chief, the Night Devils will plan revenge for the murder of Burn, and most will forget all four of the Batten brothers.”

  “What about the Quinteros?”

  “You called it right. They’re clever bastards.” Ethan scrubbed a hand down his face. “I wasn’t supposed to be here. You and your men weren’t supposed to be here. Julia and Tori won’t testify against their father or brother, not after being rescued by them. Quintero’s men will disappear. It’ll be written up as a gang war of sorts, the police chief an innocent victim. No one will be arrested, the file will be closed, and a new chief promoted or hired.”

  Wrath wondered about the status of the narcotics heist. With Burn gone, it would throw the Devils into enough disarray to postpone the theft. Armando wouldn’t risk his men, and Zahir’s resources wouldn’t be able to pull off something so complex in such a short period of time.

  He thought of Stoney and his team from New Orleans. They’d already been deployed to the drug warehouses in Northern Phoenix and Riverside. Small teams of three men each, enough to observe and follow. Not enough men to detain. Stoney was with one of those in Phoenix. Their services might no longer be needed, but only the Quinteros and Zahir knew for sure. He had to contact Grayson.

  They looked at each other when Ethan’s phone rang. “Sheriff McCord.” He listened a moment. “I’ll get there as soon as I can. Send Deputy Bettencourt. Let her know I’ll join her at the scene.” Sliding his phone back into a pocket, his mouth drew into a thin line.

  “They found the bodies already?”

  Ethan shook his head. “Not yet. It was a heads-up call. Whoever called said he’d seen some activity on the road to the house. I’ll have Vela talk to him. Her husband is the one who overheard Abernathy on the phone with Burn. She’s smart. It won’t take her long to piece together at least some of what happened.”

  “After the bodies are discovered,” Wrath said.

  “Right.”

  Julia and Tori sat in the back seat of their father’s rented Mercedes, Diego between them. Armando sat in the passenger seat, his bodyguard, Ernesto Ramirez, driving. Behind them was another Mercedes, four men inside. The women didn’t know what happened to the rest.

  Hands clasped in her lap to calm the shakes, Julia stared straight ahead. As a doctor, she knew her body was dealing with shock, fear, and disbelief at what she’d witnessed. Understanding on an intellectual level didn’t help her. She knew Tori had to be going through the same series of emotions, trying to reconcile what they’d witnessed. Accepting what their father and brother had done.

  Julia thought of Nate, wondered if he’d tried to find them and if he already knew about the killings. Turning her head to stare outside into the dark night, she struggled with what to do.

  She no longer had to wonder about what their father and brother were capable of doing. They were killers, showing not a bit of emotion at the deaths of six men. Julia told herself they’d done what was needed to protect their family. Their father, brothers, and their men had saved her and Tori from whatever the brothers planned.

  It would be a long time until she’d be able to purge the screams of the four pleading for their lives. No amount of begging would’ve saved them from their father’s order. They’d done the unthinkable—kidnapping two of his daughters. Some part of her understood his form of retribution.

  What she had a harder time accepting was the reason their father killed two men within feet of them. They’d both been wearing jeans, one with tennis shoes on his feet, the other with boots. Both their heads were covered and both grunted incomprehensible sounds, as if their mouths were covered. She’d seen nothing to indicate their identities before their father had stepped forward and fired.

  After what she and Tori witnessed, Julia no longer doubted if they were involved in illegal activities. The actions at the house spoke of experience dealing in the darker side of life. The fact they had a group of men willing to carry out their orders indicated it wasn’t the first time retribution had been exacted.

  Turning her head, she glanced across Diego at Tori. Her head rested on their brother’s shoulder, eyes closed. If she wasn’t asleep, Julia knew her sister would be thinking about Dylan.

  She suddenly became aware of her complete exhaustion. Unable to hold her head up any longer, Julia leaned over, resting her head against Diego’s other shoulder. He responded by looping his other arm over her, stroking her arm in a show of comfort.

  “It will all work out, querida,” he whispered a moment before she drifted off.

  Tracker paced around Julia’s house, cursing his inability to locate her or the Quinteros. They weren’t at any of the four hotels downtown. Neither had ever checked in. The news shouldn’t have surprised him, but it did.

  “Would y
ou sit down? You’re making my head spin.” Rock sat on the sofa, fiddling with the television remote while watching out the window for signs of headlights. Gunner sat nearby, an arm slung over the back of the chair.

  Crossing his arms, Tracker glared at him. “What would you do if it were Tessa? Forget it. I already know because I was there when all that bad shit went down.” He felt like a shit for bringing it up. “Sorry, man. I’m just worried. Where the hell are they?”

  “Raider and Penny Lane are working on it.” A slight grin curved Rock’s lips at Tracker’s confused look. “Petty Officer Penelope Lane.”

  “Right. Penny Lane.” Tracker lifted a hand, massaging the back of his neck.

  “Headlights approaching.” Fuse’s voice came through the comm unit. He, Fargo, and Banner sat in a truck across the street. “Two cars slowing in front of Julia’s. Driver of first car is out, opening the back door. Bingo, gentlemen. It’s Julia. Armando is out and opening the other door. Tori is getting out. We have three men and the women. The second car has parked behind them. Four getting out.”

  “Roger that,” Rock responded.

  Tracker had already seen the cars and was moving toward the door.

  Gunner got there first. “Not yet, man. We all go out at once. The same time Fuse, Fargo, and Banner come up from behind.”

  Rock joined them, moving past Tracker to open the door. “Let’s go, but take it slow. We don’t know how the Quinteros will react. You first, buddy.”

  Tracker shot past him, his pace faster than Rock wanted. The instant she saw him, Julia began walking faster, rushing into his open arms.

  “Nate…” She settled her head against his chest, body trembling as a deep sob escaped.

  “Baby. I’m so sorry.” He stroked her back with one hand, her hair with the other. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

  Pulling away, she lifted her gaze to meet his, tears pooling in her eyes. “I’m not hurt.” She looked at her father and Diego standing several feet away, their men circling behind them. “They…they…” Her chest heaved as another sob escaped.