by Carolina Mac
“Okay Ranger Blackmore. I’ll tell them to chill. I seen you on TV, but you’re a lot bigger in person.”
Outside the office, he handed out the room numbers, gave the signal and the men swarmed the motel. As soon as the action started he called for the buses. “Bring them all into the parking lot now. The boys will be bringing the girls out any minute.”
“Roger that, boss.”
10:30 p.m.
Alexi Lebedev’s Residence. Barton Hills. Austin.
FARRELL and Travis were assigned to Lebedev’s home. They parked down the block and waited for Blacky’s signal. As soon as it was a go, they hopped out of the truck and jogged to the house.
Lebedev resided in a large brick and stone home in Barton Hills. A black Mercedes was parked in the driveway in front of the double garage.
“Front or back?” asked Travis.
“I’ve got the warrant, so I’ll take the front,” said Farrell. He gave Travis a couple of minutes to get into position, then rang the bell. A dog barked inside, and it sounded yappy, like a small breed.
The door opened and Alexi Lebedev stood in the foyer in blue silk pajamas. Farrell stepped through the open door and snapped a cuff on Lebedev’s wrist with the little white dog circling his ankles and yipping at him. He wanted to give it a kick but thought better of it.
“You are under arrest for human trafficking, sir. I have a warrant for your arrest.”
Lebedev laughed. “This is a joke.”
“No joke. Do you want a jacket? It’s cold outside.”
Travis joined Farrell in the foyer, and they escorted Lebedev to the truck. No shots fired.
10:30 p.m.
Vadim Sokolov’s Residence. Westgate. Austin.
LUKE and Fletcher waited for Blaine’s signal, then drove up to Sokolov’s house in Westgate and parked across the driveway. The black Navigator was blocked in, but Mr. Sokolov wasn’t going to be using his own wheels anyway.
In an upscale row of townhouses, Sokolov lived in an end unit. The front door was five steps above grade and the concrete porch was surrounded by perfectly clipped shrubbery.
Luke ran up and waited while Fletch opened the gate to the backyard and got into position.
“I’m good,” said Fletcher into his mic and Luke pressed the doorbell.
Nothing happened in the first sixty seconds, so he pressed it again.
Sokolov jerked the door open and hollered. “What the hell do you want? I was sleeping?”
“You’re under arrest, Mr. Sokolov.” Luke stepped into the foyer and attempted to attach a cuff to Sokolov’s left wrist.
Sokolov swung and plowed Luke in the face. Luke staggered a little, shook his head and slammed his right fist into Sokolov’s gut. Sokolov bent forward slightly and Luke pounded him on the back of the head. He went down, rolled over and came up with a gun in his hand.
Fletcher ran in the door as Sokolov aimed the Glock at Luke’s head.
Bang. Bang.
Fletcher fired twice. Center mass hit with both rounds. Mr. Sokolov laid quietly on the marble foyer floor and died.
“Thanks, partner,” said Luke. “That was close. I’ll call Blacky.”
11:00 p.m.
Blue Tango Motel. Montopolis. Austin.
‘HEY, Lukey, did you get him?”
“He didn’t want to come in, boss.” Lukey was breathing hard. “Clocked me and I punched him back. He pulled a Glock and aimed it at me and Fletch nailed him.”
“Dead?”
“Center mass, boss. He never moved.”
“Don’t worry about it. I’ll send Mort and Sue. Just hold the scene until they get there.”
“Copy that, boss.”
Blaine ended the call and watched the last of the crying, screaming girls being helped into the buses to take them to the safe-house.
“How many guards did you get, Carlos?”
“Three. I guess they had their own room and they made the rounds checking on the girls.”
“Uh huh. Farrell and Travis picked up Lebedev,” said Blaine.
“What about his partner?”
“He gave Lukey trouble and Fletch capped him.”
Carlos grinned. “Fletch is a force.”
Blaine smiled.
11:30 p.m.
THEY were wrapping up and ready to pull out when a couple of media vans came whipping into the parking lot. One reporter jumped out and said, “Ranger Blackmore, we heard something was going down here.”
“Something did go down, but it’s over.”
“Can I have an exclusive? Even five minutes would do it.”
Blaine shrugged. “The Agency night shift uncovered a ring of sex traffickers and we’ve been trying to locate the girls they abducted for their trade. We just finished taking forty abducted girls out of this motel. The girls are being taken to a safe-house where they will be debriefed and printed, and hopefully they will all be reunited with the families that lost them.”
“That’s an amazing story, Ranger Blackmore. “Can you give me any more details about the men running this ring?”
“Names won’t be released until at least tomorrow. There’s a lot of paperwork to be done. I’d watch for Governor Campbell to say something on the subject in the next day or two.”
The reporter turned off the mic and shook Blaine’s hand. “Appreciate this so much.”
Midnight.
Maynooth. Ontario.
ANNIE made a fresh pot of coffee when they returned from the hospital while Luc revived the fire in the woodstove.
Jesse sat on the sofa with Marnie by his side. He was pale and tired, and Annie was worried about him.
“You should get to bed, Jesse. Tomorrow will be a long day like today. You need to get some rest.”
Marnie stood up. “Annie’s right, you should sleep.”
“What if Ty dies in the night?” asked Jesse. “He’ll be at the hospital all alone.”
“Even if you were there,” said Marnie, “he wouldn’t know. The doctor said not to expect any change until around noon tomorrow.”
“I left my cell number, Jesse,” said Annie. “If anything happens, they’ll call.”
Jesse stood up. “I really am beat.”
“You and Marnie take the bedroom. Luc and I can sleep in the office.”
“Vrai.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Tuesday, January 24th.
8:00 a.m.
The Blackmore Agency. Austin.
BLAINE was tired from the take-down the night before and was pretty sure the crew would be too. “I know y’all are tired, so this is what we’re gonna do. We’ll all go to headquarters and knock off reports until noon, then we’ll go for steaks and beer and call it.”
Farrell grinned. “That’s the sanest thing you’ve said this year, bro.”
“Thanks, I needed that,” said Blaine.
“And what are you gonna be doing while all of us are busting our brains filling out reports?”
“I’m gonna be with Cat busting my brain on what she’s gonna say to the TV cameras.”
“Better you than me,” said Farrell.
“Lil will call y’all with lunch details,” said Blaine.
8:00 a.m. E.S.T.
Maynooth. Ontario.
JESSE got up thinking he was the first one up and no one else was awake. He tiptoed into the kitchen and Luc was sitting in front of the red enamel stove shoving a log in. The cabin was toasty warm, so Luc had been up for a while.
“Coffee’s ready,” he said.
“Thanks,” said Jesse, “I need a coffee.”
Annie was next up and ambled into the kitchen wearing a big bulky sweater. She stopped next to Luc and stroked his hair. “Nice and warm, sugar. Thank you.”
Her cell rang in the pocket of her sweater and she frowned at the screen. “RCMP,” she said, then listened.
“No, he hasn’t called me…Uh huh… Yes, I will.”
“They want to know if Tyler called you?” asked Jesse
.
Annie nodded. “He didn’t call me.”
Noon.
Logan’s. Austin.
THE Agency crew were all seated around a long table with pitchers of beer in front of them when Blaine arrived with Governor Campbell. “Cat wanted to tell you in person what a great job y’all did.”
Catherine smiled, flipped her long red hair and sat down next to Dillon. “Hey, Dillon, nice to see you.”
He smiled and his face colored slightly.
“I’m proud of all of you, and the tough job that you handle so well. Once I heard about the Night Vipers riding their bikes I signed up for lessons so I could ride with Donovan.”
Farrell chuckled and chugged the rest of his beer.
Noon. E.S.T.
Bancroft Hospital.
TYLER was still the same when they arrived at the hospital. No change. The doctor said he couldn’t predict when Tyler would wake up, although his vital signs were stronger. The wound in his leg had been stitched and the broken tibia set. A cast had been put on his leg and he was resting comfortably.
“I guess we’re in for a long wait,” said Jesse.
I sincerely hope you enjoyed Night Vipers, book twenty in the Blackmore Agency Series. If you’d like to read on to Short Fuse, Book Twenty-One, I’ve included a few pages for you.
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Author Notes from Carolina:
The Blackmore Series is continuing and as of this date, no end is in sight. New characters come and go, but the familiar ones remain. I enjoy hearing your suggestions and your criticisms of the characters you love and the ones you don’t love so much.
A special thank you to the fans who take the time to reach out and share their ideas, support, and opinions. You know who you are, Lynn, June, Dorothy, Shelley, Diane, Wendy, Shirley and Freda, Jerry, Dawn, Alice, Billy and Melinda, Jim and Gayle, Ava, Terry, Renee, Dolly, Tammy, and Celestia to name a few.
Any mistakes in any of my books are mine and mine alone. At times, I change things to make them fit the story. This is fiction.
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Regulator Series:
Lily
Bad Beat
Panama Annie
Coulter
Searching for Billy
End of an Era
Wingman
Triple Homicide
The Foundation
Hotline
Powell
Quantrall Series:
Quantrall
Ink Minx
Ray Jay
Blacky
The Coven
You Forgot to say Goodbye
Payback
Rags to Rage
The Corner Office
Race
Coma
No Defense
Full Circle
Stick a Needle in Your Eye
Crude
The Blackmore Agency Series:
Double Down
Splitting Aces
Dead Man’s Hand
Drawing Dead
Under the Gun
Rivered
The Turn
Final Table
Cat
Dog
Vigilance
Mystere
Hole in the Heart
Dead Eye
Backwater
Road Kill
Street Rat
Hoodoo
Crowbar
Night Vipers
Short Fuse
Paradise Park Series:
Paradise Park
Return to Paradise
Paradise Sparks
Alone in Paradise
Together in Paradise
Prisoner in Paradise
Escape from Paradise
These are in series order.
CHAPTER ONE
Wednesday, January 25th.
Livingston. Texas.
RAZOR wire cut through the stolen jackets but there was no time to recognize pain. Not a second to spare as they hit the ground running on the outside of the fence, then dropped to their bellies and crawled through a field of weeds and muck while the searchlights scanned the terrain for possible breakouts.
There were none. Ever. Not from this unit.
Not until now.
But the warden didn’t know his perfect record had been ripped out of his greedy hands. Not yet. When he found out, his bragging days would be over. Dumb fuck.
On the other side of the field and out of range of the search lights, Aaron squinted his eyes and peered through the darkness looking for his brother’s truck.
“There he is,” said Wayne as the truck approached them with headlights out. They jumped in while the truck was rolling slowly, turning and heading back the way it had come.
“Elvis, where the hell have you been?” Aaron fought the urge to clock his brother in the head. “Are you fuckin brain dead? I told you to be here at three and it’s ten after.”
“Sorry, Aaron. I was tied up with a woman and she was mighty sweet. I lost track of time.”
“I ask you for one favor in twenty fuckin years and you lose track of time?”
Click.
“Shut up, Aaron,” said Elvis. “Be thankful I came at all. Doing this so-called favor and being seen with you guys could get me fuckin killed.”
“Step on it and take the back roads,” said Aaron. “As soon as they notice we’re gone, every DPS asshole in the whole state of Texas will be looking for us.”
Click.
Aaron turned his head and snarled at the back seat. “Quit flicking that Zippo, Wayne. You’re gonna set the goddam seats on fire.”
“No, I ain’t. I’m a pro. That means none of my fires are accidental. Ever.”
“Where we headed?” asked Elvis as he pounded the pedal to the metal and ignored the speed limit.
“Did you bring the money and the passports I asked for?”
“Course, I did. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid.” Elvis pointed. “Weapons are in the glove box. Knife and untraceable gun each, just like you said.”
Aaron opened the glove box, took out the guns first and checked them, then did the same with the knives. He handed one of each over the console to Wayne in the back seat. “Open that bag back there, Wayne, and hand me some clothes. We’ve got to get rid of this mud-covered shit we’re wearing.”
“I’m soaked in blood,” said Wayne. “That razor wire ain’t human.”
“The blood will dry up,” said Aaron. “It’s the price we paid for going over the fence.”
“I don’t like scars,” said Wayne. “I value my looks.”
“You fuckin narcissist,” sneered Aaron.
“I asked you a question,” said Elvis.
“What?” Aaron scooched forward in the seat and pulled off the prison issue.
“Where we headed, Aaron? I gotta know what fuckin road to take.”
“Keep going west until I tell you to stop.”
“What’s that mean? We going to California?”
“Guess you’ll know where we’re going when I say stop. Don’t ask so many fuckin questions.”
“You don’t trust your own brother?” asked Elvis.
“Trust no one and you’ll l
ive a helluva lot longer.”
“Amen,” said Wayne in the back seat.
Click.
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