by Jordan Dane
Mercer had Stetson positioned at the main gate as lookout. Ciara and Keiko took up positions below him on the east and west side of the property. He kept Karl in the warmth of the Navigator with his bed and water. No sense in every member of his team being cold and miserable. If they had an opportunity to deploy him, Karl would be eager to do his job.
“I need bird’s eye visuals. You copy, Wizard?” Mercer spoke to Nilah through his ear bud, using her op handle to request the latest satellite images. The rest of his team would hear her response.
“Copy, Wolf. On it.”
Satellite thermal scanners allowed Nilah to estimate a body count in the building and give him the approximate location where hostages might be held. It would be a long shot to get definitive proof of women being held against their will, but with any luck, the substantiation would come.
“Outbuilding on northeast corner.” Nilah reported back after receiving updated satellite visuals. “A baker’s dozen inside, three watching the hen house. One outside, two in.”
She observed thirteen inside with three guards, but that didn’t mean all the hostages could be trusted. Mercer knew from experience that traffickers with more than a few victims would use ‘bottoms’ to operate atop the hierarchy of sex slaves. Bottoms would collect money from the girls, discipline them, and handle day-to-day business. They were victims themselves that had earned the trust of the trafficker who gave them privileges over the others.
His team couldn’t afford to turn their backs on anyone, once they breached the building.
“Incoming.” Stetson’s voice came over Mercer’s ear bud as his number two man described a truck turning through the gate and onto the property.
Come on. Unzip your fly. Show us what you got.
“Get the tag, Boots.”
“Will do.”
Mercer prayed the yellow panel truck carried proof they had found a viable link to the Hive. Cheyenne, Wyoming made sense. It had I-25 running north and south through the middle of it. I-80 ran west and east, making a perfect cross-hair hub for traffickers to haul their human inventory through the western section of the United States.
“If this is a delivery, I want proof, Lotus.” He ordered Keiko to get digital photos of any hostages to run through facial recognition software.
“You’ll have it.” Keiko’s disembodied voice whispered in his ear.
The truck kicked up dust as it jostled through the construction zone. When it didn’t slow down at the project manager’s office, the one with the light shining through the window, Mercer’s heart pounded, hard.
“This is it. Make it count.”
He followed the truck through his binoculars until it stopped near the outbuilding in the northeast corner of the property, the location where Nilah had found thermal scans of bodies. The old warehouse had no windows and only one entrance, a metal door. It would make a challenging breach, but it could be done. His mind already worked on how they would execute their assault.
When the driver jumped out of the truck, he had a man with him who opened the cargo hold and waved a hand at someone inside the truck. Mercer forgot to breathe as he waited to see who would emerge.
Two women crawled from the vehicle and cowered from the men who shoved them. One of the women held a small dark-haired boy who didn’t look older than twelve. Mercer’s stomach clenched when he saw the kid.
“You getting this, Lotus?” Mercer asked Keiko as he peered through his binoculars.
“Yes.”
He had his confirmation. After dark, when they could launch a stealth attack with better odds of succeeding on a rescue, he could deploy Karl over the premises and hunt down any cyber network link on the property. If this were the Hive, their operation would have a high-tech means of communicating on the human inventory when they bartered on the dark web. He knew from experience, and his gut instinct, that he would find the bread crumbs he desperately needed to locate the head of the snake.
But as the men were taking the two women and the boy to the warehouse, the driver pulled a guard aside and gestured back toward the three hostages. The guard ordered the women and boy to stop at the doorway to the storehouse. The two men laughed and shared a smoke.
Mercer didn’t like it.
“This doesn’t look good.” Stetson’s drawl came over his ear bud.
When the two men appeared to have struck an agreement, the trucker ambled over to the hostages and took his time looking them over. The guards cheered him on. He grabbed the boy by the neck and hauled him back toward the truck.
Mercer cursed under his breath.
The kid fought hard—kicking and crying—until the man had to grapple him off the ground and hoist him over his shoulder. He was too small to put up a fight. The woman who had held the boy tried to stop the man, but the guards kicked her inside and shut the door. The despicable coward took his prize to the back of his vehicle to sample the merchandize.
“I brought the fitty. What do you want me to do?” Ciara’s voice cracked.
She had brought the Browning M2, a .50-caliber machine gun. She’d sent the message loud and clear to Mercer and the team. She wanted to annihilate these men where they stood.
Mercer gritted his teeth until they hurt. He breathed through his nose to stop from throwing up. His words to Keiko repeated in his head and made him sick.
‘I will never sacrifice an innocent life for the sake of an op. Never.’
He struggled for an answer, but nothing better came.
“Too risky, Reaper. Stand down. We have the others to think about,” Mercer’s voice sounded like a stranger. He felt like a damned hypocrite.
The hostages in the warehouse would have armed guards willing to sacrifice them for the sake of the larger operation. They were expendable. If Mercer allowed his team to retaliate against the driver for what he was doing to that poor kid, others would die for his inability to control his rage. He’d be risking many lives to save one.
He fought the sting of tears and lost.
“If anyone can’t stomach surveillance, I’ll see you at home base in two.”
They had what they came for, but two more hours would complete the recon phase. By the time they returned home, Nilah would have facial recognitions run and his team could set up a stealth strategy to rescue the hostages after nightfall.
What happened to the boy was a vile reminder of why he’d formed his team in the first place. No court system would give true justice to the victims of rapists and murderers. Victims were either dead or wounded with emotional scars they carried with them for life. Traffickers enslaved human beings to sell them into sex slavery, forced labor, or they harvested and sold their vital organs on the black market as if their lives meant nothing.
“If you’re staying, Wolf, I’m in.” Stetson was the first to speak up, but the rest followed without hesitation. “No one can stomach this, but we owe it to all of them to get it right.”
Even after he gave his team permission to head to home base, none of them would leave. Not even after things grew worse. The guards stood outside the open cargo hold and watched the assault. When the driver was finished with the boy, the other men took their turns.
Mercer had no doubt. The boy’s accusing eyes would find him in his dreams.
“I want their faces on digital, Lotus.” He seethed. “All of them.”
“Done,” Keiko said. “I get the driver. Dibs.”
Mercer couldn’t think of a more fitting sentence than to unleash Keiko Kayakova on the driver’s sorry ass.
Chapter 12
Laramie Mountains
North of Cheyenne, Wyoming
Hours later
Zoey hadn’t seen Mr. January all day. He’d left two familiar faces behind, but since she didn’t know their names, it felt as if she were held prisoner. She’d managed to choke down a slice of toast and hot tea for breakfast, but as the day wore on, every minute brought pure agony as she worried over another day without Kaity. She had a bad feeling and was
powerless to do anything about it.
When she saw the black Lincoln Navigator and another SUV barreling up the long drive toward the estate at dusk, she prayed for news. She raced for the foyer entrance as Mr. January entered the premises with his crew. It shocked her to see them all dressed in black BDUs with thigh holsters and Kevlar vests, as if they were a SWAT tactical unit.
‘Who are you?’ she wanted to ask, but what came out of her mouth sounded harsher than she meant it.
“Where have you been?” She raised her voice in accusation. “I thought…well, you don’t want to know what I thought.” She crossed her arms to hold it together, failing miserably.
“Give us a minute of privacy. I’ll be there shortly,” Mr. January said to his people and pulled her by the hand into a room off the foyer that looked like a library. He shut the door behind them.
“Whatever you thought of me, I deserve it.” Mr. January had a hard time looking her square in the eye. “I have to leave again and I can’t take you with me.”
Zoey grabbed his shirt and held tight as she stared into his eyes.
“Is this about Kaity?”
“I hope so, but I don’t want to mislead you. That smart phone we picked up at the warehouse, it led us to a trafficking cell. They could be linked to the group I’ve been hunting.”
“The group you’ve been hunting? Who are you? Why are you doing this?”
When he didn’t answer, she let her heart race with the prospect of good news until she realized what he’d left out.
“Do you think these people have Kaity?” she asked.
He hesitated.
“I can’t be sure, but we saw proof they’re holding hostages against their will. Do you have a picture of your friend? I need to see it.”
Zoey reached for her phone and thumbed through her photos. She showed him her favorite, the one with the two of them, together.
“That’s Kaity.”
He stared at the image as if he were committing her face to memory before he shook his head and handed the phone back to her.
“These men are oxygen thieves who don’t deserve to live,” he said. “They’re vile animals. We have to stop them, tonight.”
Mr. January clenched his jaw in anger.
“You saw something bad, didn’t you?” She tugged at his shirt. When he didn’t answer, she knew.
“Someone has Kaity. They’re hurting her, I just know it.” She cried and turned her back on him. “I know you’re not responsible, but I don’t know what to do. I have to find her.”
He came up behind her and pulled her into his arms, whispering in her ear.
“I will find Kaity if it’s the last thing I do. I promise you.”
The warmth of his body and tenderness in his voice made her feel safe. She wanted to shut her eyes and listened to him whispering promises in her ear all night, but she couldn’t let that happen. With tears in her eyes, she turned toward him—standing on tiptoe—and held his face in her hands.
“We both know you can’t make that promise, but there’s a special place in heaven for a good man like you, Mr. January.”
Zoey didn’t know much about the man she wanted to kiss more than breathe—not even his name—but she would damn well know how his lips tasted, even if she never kissed him again.
She pulled him into her arms and devoured his mouth, caressing his tongue with hers. He lifted her off the ground and cradled her against his hard body. With a low groan of ecstasy, she burrowed into his warmth. She wanted him, needed him, but her emotions were raw. She didn’t know if her feelings for him were real or she needed his strength more.
“Stop,” he said. “We can’t do this.”
To her surprise, Mr. January was the one to put on the brakes a split second before she did. Panting and disheveled, he lowered her to the floor and held her face in his hands as he rested his forehead on hers.
“Don’t get me wrong. There’s nothing I want more than to make love to you, Zoey Meager. You are a desirable woman, but you can do better than someone like me.” He nuzzled her neck until her knees nearly buckled.
“Someone like you?” She gasped for air.
“Don’t put too much stock in whatever you see in me. I’m broken. I’ll never be whole.”
She tried to argue with him, but he placed a finger to her lips and gazed into her eyes until the room faded to nothing—all she saw was him.
“I have too many sins to make up for. You deserve a man who’ll need you like breathing, a guy you can look in his eyes to know how beautiful you are, every day.”
“But you—”
She wanted him to know that she felt more like a woman in his eyes than she ever had in her life. Zoey had never met a man like him. He lived in seclusion. Even when he had people in his life, he chose to be alone and he erected walls to isolate his heart. Yet she couldn’t think of any man more deserving of love and happiness.
What had happened to him?
“God, I wish I could be that man for you, honey, but some sins don’t earn you a second chance.”
He brushed a strand of hair from her eyes and pulled from her arms. His face had turned into a blank canvas—unreadable and distant. When he walked out the study door, he didn’t look back and Zoey never felt so lost.
***
Cheyenne, Wyoming
Midnight
Dressed in tactical gear, Mercer sat next to Stetson Debenham in a black unmarked Ford F-150 SuperCrew truck with the engine running. In the crew cab, Karl sat behind Mercer wearing his work harness and leash. He heard his dog whine and pant as he paced the rear seat, eager to get his paws on the ground.
Ciara and Keiko were in a panel van behind them, a vehicle with enough room to rescue all the hostages. Both transports were parked within sight of the construction project’s front gate.
“Are we a go, Wizard? Confirm with visuals.” Mercer spoke into his com unit to Nilah.
He needed confirmation that the hostages were still in play where he expected to find them. Since the metal door posed a challenge, Ciara planned explosives to gain entry. Nilah knew to confirm the hostages would be positioned away from the blast.
“You have a go, Wolf. Targets confirmed and positioned toward rear.”
Mercer used a night vision scope to do a final assessment of the outer perimeter before his team executed their raid.
“One on gate duty. Easy on the takedown.”
An armed security guard in uniform was on duty at the entrance. Since Mercer had no way of knowing if the guard played a role in the trafficking ring, he ordered the man be spared.
“He’s mine. Wait for my signal.” Keiko’s voice came over Mercer’s ear bud.
From the corner of his eye, he saw her shadow move through the dark, heading for her target. Keiko created a sound diversion to draw the man from the guard shack. She dispatched him in seconds, rendering him unconscious and zip-tied him hands and feet before she opened the gate and gave her signal.
“Let’s make an honest woman out of her. Hit it.” Mercer gave the order for his team to move. “We’re doing this blind. No lights.”
Stetson hit the gas with Ciara close behind, both vehicles running without headlights. His truck barreled through the gate, jostling over ruts in the dirt and kicking up gravel. Keiko jumped into the van and Ciara punched it to catch up.
When Mercer saw the warehouse ahead, where the hostages were held, he had Stetson stop at a distance to see if guards were posted outside. He peered through his night vision scope.
“Can you give me a headcount on the opposition, Wizard? Inside and out.”
Nilah’s voice came over his com unit.
“Only one outside. Hard to read the others, but I see three moving freely inside.”
“I’ll take the one outside,” Mercer told his team.
He gave Karl a hand signal to stand down and stay.
“Not yet, boy. Soon.”
Mercer retrieved his Remington 700 sniper rifle from the bed of
the truck, a .308 custom-made bolt action precision rifle with suppressor and a box magazine. He took a prone position and adjusted his scope to take the shot and chambered a round. When the guard stepped into his cross-hairs, he slowly let out his breath to still his body, slipped his finger onto the trigger and took the shot. His rifle bucked and spat and a faint muzzle flash pierced the darkness. The man dropped like a rock and went down without a sound.
A clean head shot.
“Reaper, you’re up next.”
Mercer had cleared the way for his team to breach the metal door, the last barrier before they rescued the hostages. The door breach and bangers would be the diversion they’d need to disorient the remaining guards.
The truck and the van eased up to the warehouse, making a defensive wall of their vehicles to give them cover if they needed it. With precision from the many hours of training, his team split up to do their jobs. Mercer and Stetson took positions near the only door.
“Check the lock.”
Mercer had seen it before. A tactical team pulling out all the stops to annihilate a door when it wasn’t locked. Training officers loved to pull the prank to teach rookies a lesson, but this wasn’t training. Lives depended on flawless execution. When Stetson reached for the handle, it wouldn’t budge. Locked.
“Breacher up.”
Mercer called for Ciara to set up the explosives, strip shaped charges adhered to the door and positioned along the door hinges and lock to blast the door apart. An explosives breach ratcheted up the stakes for his team and for the victims inside—it jacked up his team’s adrenaline and made everything more dangerous—but Ciara was the best and it was the quickest method to gain entry. Nilah had confirmed the hostages were positioned to the rear of the building with walls between them and the front door.
Ciara had prepped for the mission and had pre-cut lengths of shaped charges. She stuck the explosive strips to the door the way they agreed in their strategy planning.
“Take cover,” she said.
Mercer and his team inserted ear protection and used the warehouse as a shield to protect them from the detonation. In seconds, a thundering blast erupted. Dirt and billows of smoke rode the wave of the concussive force. Mercer and his team didn’t wait for the dust to settle.
