by Dee, Cara
“Okay,” he said. “Tomorrow morning.”
Twenty
“Oh, good morning, James! You must’ve gotten back late last night.”
“Yeah, we rolled in around midnight, I reckon,” Darius replied. “What’re y’all up to today?”
Gray yawned and stretched out in his sleeping bag. He could’ve gone for another hour of sleep if the tent didn’t get hot so early. It’d been cold last night, and he’d crawled into his sleeping bag with one shudder setting off another.
Outside the tent, Hank was rambling about the tortoise safari they were going on today. It was his daughter’s biggest dream to see one.
Gray was mentally exhausted from all the planning they’d done last night, so he could only admire Darius for pulling off their charade in front of their chipper camper neighbors.
No rest for the wicked, though. The day was wasting away, and they had a lot to do. He yawned again and unzipped his sleeping bag. He got dressed in the same clothes he’d worn yesterday, with his combat knife strapped securely to his belt. At a camping site, everyone carried a knife.
The only difference was that he didn’t think any one of the other campers was planning on using their knives on people.
After crawling out of the tent and making sure it was zipped shut tightly, he made his way over to the fire Darius had started before he’d gotten chatty with Hank. The two men stood in front of the truck, and Gray nodded politely and said good morning.
Hank replied in kind and turned to Darius to ask what they were up to today, giving him the ideal opportunity to perfect their cover some more.
Gray sat down and folded a leg underneath himself, pulling one knee to his chest, and he busied himself making coffee over the fire. Darius had prepared everything. He must’ve gone over to the restrooms too and cleaned out the pot from yesterday.
While Darius spoke of Skull Rock, some panoramic view, and a cactus garden, Gray sank into his thoughts as he watched the coffee simmer in the pot.
He’d have a big responsibility today, and as grateful as he was that Darius trusted him, it was scary too. Gray had to pull it off. This wouldn’t be a situation in which Darius only relied on him if his hand was forced. This was the two of them operating together. There was no superhero and his sidekick, just two equals.
“That sounds like a great day,” Hank commented.
“Yeah, it’ll be nice,” Darius said. “Hopefully tonight, we can try sleeping in the bush again. We were planning on it last night, but someone forgot his asthma inhaler in the truck.”
Gray heard his cue and interjected. “Someone forgot to mention they were gonna start their own sandstorm with the ATV.”
Darius and Hank laughed merrily in that “Oh, kids” kind of way.
Hilarious.
Something shifted in Gray’s brain after breakfast. He felt himself shutting down emotionally, and it was unlike anything he’d done before. Things had been different on the yacht—and even on the island. He wasn’t defeated or lost. He wasn’t weak. He’d trained for weeks under Darius’s guidance, getting a taste of both his support and tough love.
With Darius’s help, Gray had opened his eyes further too. He saw consequences and possibilities in every action, and he’d become a bit more analytical.
Before heading out, they stopped at the restrooms to relieve themselves and refill their water bottles. Gray sensed Darius observing him, so he just laid it out there. He said what was happening, how his processing changed, how he filtered out a bunch of things that didn’t matter to the task they were facing.
It didn’t take a genius to know that Darius could relate. On the way over to the ATV, he draped an arm around Gray’s shoulders and kissed the side of his head. Innocent enough.
“One of the reasons we PMCs don’t settle down with a wife and kids in the same capacity. It ain’t easy flipping between mental states like a light switch.”
Gray nodded and stopped at the ATV. He’d heard similar things about men and women in the armed forces. The military was more structured; it was a lifestyle where they tried to involve the whole family. Bases existed all over the world, with options to bring spouses and children. Nevertheless, soldiers still had to flip that switch every now and then, particularly after a deployment.
“You wanna talk about it?” Darius tilted his head.
“No.” Gray was done talking. He was done thinking too. He wanted to get shit done. “Let’s go give Jackie his freedom back.”
“All right, then.”
Instead of going through the desert like yesterday, Darius drove out on the main road and followed the signs for the exit nearest Twentynine Palms.
It would be a pretty short ride. The highway that went through the town was the same that went right outside Warren’s house. And unless there was traffic—at which point Darius would just pass the house and come back when it was clear—they’d be there in fifteen or twenty minutes.
Gray went through a mental checklist, not for the first time. It worked as meditation. No backpack today, though Darius had packed the gear they needed in the compartment under the seat, including their water and gas. But other than that, Gray had everything he needed stashed on his person. Two knives, one multitool, duct tape, phone, first aid, rope…
He blew out a breath as they exited the park and hit the highway.
It was gonna be a warm day and, with the weekend starting, most likely many visitors showing up in Joshua Tree later. For now, however, the road was empty.
In ten minutes, Gray only counted four vehicles.
The mountain range from yesterday came into view, and they drove alongside it, not counting the stretch of rattlesnake land between them.
After a while, Darius gave Gray’s knee a squeeze and pointed ahead of them.
They could see the house, and there were no cars ahead of them. Gray glanced over his shoulder. No vehicles behind them either. Then he faced forward again and got ready. Closer, closer, closer. This was gonna be fast.
Once they were almost there, they could spot Buck in the backyard. He was sitting on the porch drinking beer, and that was the last thing they saw before the house blocked the view.
Game time.
Gray was off the ATV before the engine was turned off. He darted for the driveway and stopped when he reached the corner before the backyard. Then he stayed low and soundless and started counting. Darius was gonna knock on the front door in fifteen seconds.
Unstrapping the knife on his belt, Gray listened carefully and went through his memories of what he’d just seen. Buck on the porch, in a chair, on the right side of the doors, which meant he’d stand up and go left. Eleven, ten, nine. Gray should be able to peek without being spotted. Seven, six, five. He ducked down farther and licked his lips, inching around the corner just enough to see him. Mere feet away, without a care in the world. Buck reached for his beer on the table, and he leaned forward far enough for Gray to see the revolver tucked into the back of his jeans like last night.
Three, two, one…
Gray rose from his position as Darius knocked on the door and rang the doorbell.
He couldn’t see Buck’s reaction, though he sure heard the man a second after.
“No solicitors!” Buck yelled.
Gray held his breath and waited. Was there a chance Buck would go around the house instead of through it? No, through the living room had to be closer.
Last night when Darius had presented the plan, Gray had offered to knock on the door, mainly because he thought it was the easiest job. It was before he’d realized that he’d play a bigger role than sidekick. And Darius had agreed; knocking on the door was the easy gig. But it was also the direction Buck would point his gun if he had it on him. Valid point. That said, Gray would keep the revolver in his sight, because if the opportunity—
Darius knocked and rang the doorbell again.
“Goddammit,” Buck muttered and pushed back his chair. Gray got ready and peered around the corner the second B
uck disappeared inside, and that was his cue. “I said I ain’t interested!”
Gray flew toward the porch and followed Buck without making a single sound.
He didn’t even breathe, nor did he register anything around him. All he saw was the gun tucked into Buck’s pants. And when the man reached the hallway, Gray bolted for him. In a single move, he lifted the gun off of Buck, drew his knife, and pushed it to his throat, and, as Buck startled with a couple steps forward, Gray mirrored him and pulled the door open for Darius.
“What the—” Buck’s shout was cut off by Darius, who flinched toward him and slapped his hand to Buck’s mouth. Next, Gray eased away as Darius shoved the man up against the wall. Gray was right there to point the gun at Buck’s head.
Adrenaline shot through Gray as he stared into the terror in Buck’s brown eyes.
“Between you and your brother, who’s the biggest piece of shit?” Gray slid the barrel of the gun to the spot between Buck’s eyes. “Do you buy your own slaves, or do you just play with Chester’s?”
Buck’s reaction was telling. He shook his head frantically, panic seeping into his wild gaze.
“I believe Chester has him beat, but he ain’t innocent,” Darius said, amused. “Look how his pupils dilate.” He nodded at Gray. “Let’s get him to a chair.”
They brought Buck to a cushy chair in the living room, and Darius took care of the revolver while Gray went nuts with the duct tape. And to prevent any screaming, Darius pushed said gun into Buck’s mouth.
“Quick background story,” Darius told Buck. “A couple months ago, your brother boarded a boat to buy a living person. I was on that boat too. So was this guy.” He jerked a thumb at Gray. “But unlike your brother, we weren’t there to force someone into slavery.” He paused. “We killed every motherfucker on that boat who’d committed the same heinous crime as Chester—except for him. Your brother got away.”
When Buck’s hands, arms, and legs were secured to the old recliner, Gray drew a strip of tape across Buck’s neck and around the back of the chair too.
“His fate is decided, Buck Raymond,” Darius said. “Yours isn’t. If you cooperate with us, you just might live to evade the law another day. Now, you know screaming won’t save you. There’s no one around for miles, and anyone coming remotely close to this house is passing by, locked away in their car.”
“It’s up to you,” Gray finished and joined Darius’s side. “Screaming will only get you killed.”
“What do you say, Buck, can I pull out the gun?” Darius asked.
Buck nodded jerkily and dug his fingernails into the leather of the armrests.
Darius withdrew the gun and placed it on the top shelf in the bookcase.
“You wouldn’t understand him,” Buck gritted out.
“I’m not trying to understand him,” Gray told him. “I’m sure his reasoning for buying and raping young men is perfectly lovely.” He turned to Darius. “I’ll head downstairs.”
Darius inclined his head. “Bolt cutters in the seat of the ATV if you need ’em.”
“Okay.” Gray headed for the hallway, where he kicked aside the rug and lifted the hatch. Nerves tightened his stomach as he peered down into the dark. There wasn’t a chance in hell this was a basement they’d gotten a permit to build. He tested the steep steps and eyed the uneven surface of the walls. Underneath the foundation of the house, there was just compressed dirt and solid rock.
The air became warm and dank, but he’d smelled worse.
He heard a cough that wiped out his surroundings. It was as if a tunnel appeared, and Gray followed it. This was one nightmare he could end. No more fumbling in the dark, always searching, never succeeding.
He held his breath as his feet hit the ground. It wasn’t even a basement. It was a tiny dirt cellar. Three photos hung on the wall, a portable toilet sat in a corner, a single lightbulb was attached to a hook in the ceiling, and then there was a bed.
“Jackie,” Gray whispered.
The form under the sheets moved. Another cough, and then a dirty-blond mop of hair appeared, followed by a face Gray had seen in his dreams almost every night for months.
Jackie sat up in the bed and squinted.
Nausea rolled in Gray’s stomach. The guy had lost a lot of weight. His ribs were showing, his collarbone protruded, and his cheeks were sunken in.
Gray approached cautiously. “Do you remember me, Jackie? Gray—from the yacht. We were kidnapped. We were in the back of vans on the way to Florida.”
Jackie cleared his throat, visibly disoriented. “You can’t be here, man. They’ll never let you leave.”
Jesus Christ.
Gray squatted down by the bed and gazed up at him. “We’re here to get you out, buddy.” It was something Jackie couldn’t grasp. “Do you remember the yacht? The auctions?” That got him a small nod, and Gray continued slowly, realizing he had to take it baby step by baby step. “The man who bought me wasn’t a slaver. He’d been sent by my parents to save me.”
“But you’re here,” Jackie croaked and shook his head. “He’ll force you to play his sick games. One day, you’re pretending to be his brother as a child. The next, he pretends to be your mother. I-I don’t like the punishments, but he calls them rewards.” He trailed off in thought and bit his lip. Then he made eye contact again and touched Gray’s cheek. “Are you real? I dream about you sometimes. And Cole and Milo and Charlie and…”
Gray winced and rose up to sit next to him instead. “We lost Milo.” He gathered Jackie’s hands in his own and gave them a squeeze. “Cole and Charlie and the others are home with their families, though.”
Jackie stared at their hands. “Linus is dead, right? That’s what he told me. I don’t remember.”
Gray nodded soberly.
“You okay, knucklehead?” Darius asked from upstairs.
Gray exhaled and peered toward the stairs. “Yeah, we’ll be up in a bit.” Don’t come down here. He didn’t wanna overwhelm Jackie. “That’s him—the man who pretended to be a buyer on the yacht.”
Jackie tilted his head at Gray. “He did buy you. I saw him.”
“We had to pretend,” Gray murmured. “He saved me. After you were taken to another auction, he helped as many as he could. He and his brother.”
Jackie flinched and looked at the pictures on the wall. “He bought Andy there, but he didn’t make it.”
Gray clenched his jaw as fury burned through him. “We’re getting you out of here, Jackie. You hear me? You’ll be with your family in a day or two.”
That seemed to put a dent in Jackie’s shell. “No…” His chin wrinkled, and he shook his head repeatedly. “I can’t. I’ll never see them again. Look.” He pushed aside the sheets and revealed a chain around his ankle. “I can’t even reach the stairs.”
Was this what Gray had been like? Was this how Darius had seen Gray? So beaten down that the lowest threshold was a mountain?
“Hey, I could use the bolt cutters down here,” Gray called.
“Yeah, sure. Be right there,” Darius replied.
Gray turned to Jackie again and stroked his hands gently. “The men who’re holding you here—do you call them something else? I noticed you’re not using their names.”
Jackie shrugged. “They change their names a lot. Ches…Chester? I think his name is Chester. He decides everything, but I try not to call them anything at all. It doesn’t matter. He’ll kill me soon, I think.”
“No, he won’t,” Gray responded vehemently. “We’re getting you out. We have Chester’s brother tied to a damn chair upstairs.”
“Bucky,” Jackie said with a nod. “He’s nice. He brings me food, and he only jerks off and watches. He never touches me.”
That was the definition of nice in Jackie’s world. Gray could relate, and it was fucking painful.
Darius’s shadow darkened the floor by the stairs, so Gray released Jackie’s hands and said he’d be right back.
“Where are you going?” Jackie aske
d worriedly. “Please don’t leave me!”
“I’m not leaving you, Jackie. You’ll see me the whole time.” Gray stopped at the bottom of the stairs and sent Darius a look that was part pleading, part apology, part…plain grim. He couldn’t explain what he was feeling, or why, but this was heavy. This was gonna haunt him.
Darius trailed down the steps until he could extend the bolt cutters, and his eyes brimmed with concern. “Anything I can do?”
“Not yet. I… He doesn’t believe me, I think, but I’m working on it.”
Darius understood that all too well, having gone through the process with Gray.
“Ask him if there’s any part of the house that doesn’t come with too many memories,” Darius requested. “I’ll prepare it for him so he can hide out later.”
“Thank you.” Gray nodded, grateful for him, and returned to Jackie. “Let’s get rid of this goddamn chain.”
Jackie appeared nervous. He bit at his nails and trembled as Gray cut through the chain links in two goes. It fell to the floor with a muted clank, and Gray rubbed Jackie’s ankle carefully.
“I don’t know what’s happening.” Jackie was cracking. His eyes welled up, the shaking became worse, and he just stared down at his foot. “Where’s Chester?”
“Not here.” Gray slid onto the hard mattress again and put a hand on Jackie’s bouncing knee. “We’re waiting for him, but you will never have to see him again. Okay? I promise. My friend and I will take care of him.”
“But Bucky helps him,” he argued. “He will protect his brother.”
“We’ve already dealt with him,” Gray reminded patiently. “We taped him to a chair. He’ll never hurt you again either, Jackie.” He combed back some hair from Jackie’s face with his fingers. “Have you been upstairs at all?”
Jackie shook his head. “I don’t know where we are.”
“California,” Gray answered. “The Mojave Desert. Chester has a small house here that he grew up in.”
“Oh.” He glanced nervously at the stairs.
