by Jordan Dane
“Go, go, go!” Mercer gave the order.
With bangers in hand, Stetson deployed two stun grenades and stepped through the door with his weapon aimed—an M4 carbine. The cowards inside didn’t know what hit them. The stun grenades blinded them with a burst of light meant to give them ghost images on their eyes. The loud blast disturbed fluid in their ears and caused them to lose balance. The men groveled on the floor, disoriented and blinking back tears.
“Policía!” one of them screamed, covering his head.
A voice yelled from the back room.
“I’m torching the place.”
“Armas abajo.” With rifle aimed, Mercer yelled commands in Spanish to the traffickers, unsure if they spoke English. “Manos arriba.”
“Weapons down, hands up.” Stetson echoed his words in English and moved deeper into the outbuilding with his M4 aimed at the enemy. “Hey, Wolf. Aren’t these the same bastards who assaulted that boy?”
As the smoke cleared, Mercer took a closer look and his anger flared.
“Yeah, that’s them.”
When Keiki came through the door, she recognized the men on the floor, too. She’d taken their photos and run them through facial recognition. If anyone knew the faces of the men who’d raped the boy—she did.
“Bastards!” she cursed.
Kieko opened fire and killed the men without hesitating. Two to the heart, she executed them.
After what they’d seen that morning, the atrocity between the truck driver and the innocent boy, Mercer knew emotions would run high with his team, but he hadn’t expected Keiko to shoot. The men were no immediate threat, but Mercer didn’t have time to question her decision to shoot the men.
“There’s one more. Find him.” Keiko cried out. “I smell gasoline.”
Keiko was right. He smelled gas, too. The stench hadn’t been there when they first came into the building. The missing man—they had to find him.
With the potential of an active shooter still on premises, Stetson took lead and threaded his team through the dust and debris, following the sounds of screaming and crying from a back room. He edged his back along a wall and peered into the room. Someone took a shot at Stetson’s head and he ducked. A wood splinter cut his cheek and when blood trailed down his neck, he cursed under his breath.
He gave hand signals to Mercer, who nodded and took up his position. Mercer heaved a deep breath and slowly glanced into the dimly lit space.
The odor of gas came from the room.
It looked like a torture chamber. Chains with manacles hung in one corner. Blood stained the floor. A piss bucket sat in the open and reeked of urine and shit. On the other side were the hostages, huddled together and clutching blankets to their chests. An old stained mattress had been tossed along a wall. Mercer knew that’s where the traffickers raped their victims, with a captive audience forced to watch in horror, knowing their own degradation would come.
Something else shook him—the empty gas can on the floor by the hostages.
“I’ll shoot her. She don’t mean nothin’ to me. I’ll do it.”
A filthy sweaty man held a young girl, using her as a shield. He had a gun to her head with his shaky fingers on the trigger.
“You smell the gasoline, cop? It’s everywhere. One spark will set it off and they all fry,” he said. “Make me a deal, Mr. Policeman. Let me walk out of here and she’s yours.”
Mercer had no doubt that the man holding the hostage had set the fire in Denver, the blaze that killed the three women he didn’t know were being held in the locked storage unit. The Hive had been eliminating their unwanted inventory by arson and killing their victims in the worst way.
Now the little coward wanted a deal with police and Mercer let him believe what he wanted. He took advantage of the standoff by taking another peek into the room.
When he took a closer look at the woman hostage—from the shadows in the corridor where he stood—he realized that he stared into the crying face of Kaity Boyer and a rush of emotion wedged his throat tight.
Bruised and battered, the girl looked rail thin, like a refugee who’d been through hell in a war zone. She hadn’t been kept in good condition, which meant she’d been used up and tossed back to the vermin who held her. When even they wouldn’t have her, she’d be killed.
Mercer didn’t have time to explain to his team. He fixed his eyes on Stetson and Ciara, conveying what he could without a word, before he lowered his M4 and raised his hands.
“I’m coming in. I’m unarmed. Don’t shoot.”
He had a Glock tucked into his belt at the small of his back, but he didn’t know if he’d have time to reach for it. He trusted his team to back his play. Mercer stepped into the room and locked eyes with the man who held Kaity Boyer’s life in his hands.
In seconds it would be over.
Chapter 13
Cheyenne, Wyoming
1:00 a.m.
With his hands raised, Mercer stared at the coward who manhandled Kaity Boyer and used her for a human shield.
“A friend of yours sent me, Kaity. She loves you very much.”
The girl gasped and fresh tears streamed down her cheeks.
“I thought I’d never see her again.”
He shifted his gaze back to the abductor.
“I need to see the others.” Mercer pretended to be a cop with rights and the armed man let him search the room for the other hostages.
A huddled mass of terrified human beings cringed in a dark corner of the room. They clutched at each other and cried. Many were in shock. When Mercer found the small boy he’d seen earlier, he slowly nodded his head to the kid and his mother.
He made a silent vow he would die trying to free them.
“All of you, shut up.” The man hoisted Kaity off the ground and she screamed. He shoved his gun into her head, hurting her. “Back off and let me go or she’s dead.”
Mercer inched closer and gave his team a clear shot at the man. If they understood what he meant for them to do, they would wait for the perfect moment to take their shot. Stetson and Ciara were his best marksmen, but he needed to give them an advantage.
“What’s your name?” Mercer asked.
The man backed into a corner and kept looking over his shoulder. Mercer couldn’t tell what had his attention and it bothered him.
“You don’t need to know that.” The guy jutted his head out from behind his hostage and sneered.
“I thought you’d want your name on your grave.”
Anger replaced the smugness on the man’s face and he moved back again.
“I’ll shoot her.” He spat. “Don’t think I won’t.”
“If you do that, I’ll have the time I need to break your neck. You won’t have a shield anymore.” He glared at the man and inched closer, with his voice ice cold. “I don’t need a weapon to kill you. Do you believe me?”
“I’ll torch the place. Stay back.”
“No you won’t. You’ll be the first to sizzle. You’re standing in gas, genius.”
The man jerked his head and looked down at his feet. He stopped glaring at the door, expecting company. He stayed focused on Mercer and whatever had his attention behind him.
“Stop moving. Stay right there,” he demanded. “You’re just messin’ with me.”
“Tell me your name.”
“Quit askin’ me that. Let me think.”
“Thinking isn’t your strong suit. If you were thinking straight, you would let her go and join your friends in the other room. They’re waiting for you. You could screw things up for them if you hurt her.”
The man’s eyes grew wide and he called out to his buddies.
“Russell. Arturo. Are you out there?” he shouted.
The more agitated he got, the more he became careless. The weight of the girl had taken its toll on his strength. She drooped in his arms and soon his team would have a clean shot.
“You’ll have plenty of time to talk to them after you let the girl go. I
promise.” Mercer shifted his gaze to Kaity and stared until she stopped crying. “Make your play, little man. Or I will.”
When Mercer made his threat, the man had enough of his menacing taunts. He shifted his weapon toward him and took aim, letting Kaity drop to the floor.
“Say goodnight, cop.”
Mercer went for the gun at his back. But before the man pulled the trigger, Stetson and Ciara raced through the door with guns blazing. Bullets pummeled the body of the last trafficker. He stood and took every shot. The man was dead before he hit the ground.
Mercer raced for Kaity and picked her off the floor, holding her in his arms to shield her. Stetson, Ciara and Keiko swept the room with weapons drawn. It was over.
Winded, Mercer clung to Kaity and let her cry. He whispered in her ear that she was safe. She’d get help and be home soon, but when he turned his back on the other hostages, a woman’s angry scream forced him to turn around.
One of the hostages had a gun and she took deadly aim at Mercer—and pulled the trigger.
Chapter 14
Cheyenne, Wyoming
1:40 a.m.
Mercer only had time to think of the girl crying in his arms. The second the armed hostage pulled the trigger, the gun blasted and he turned his body to shield Kaity. More gunfire erupted. He waited for the punch of a bullet to strike him. When that didn’t happen, he slowly turned to face Keiko.
She stood in front of him with her eyes wide—in shock and gasping for air. For the first time, he saw fear in her eyes as she fell into his arms.
“What happened? Are you shot?” He lowered Keiko to the floor, not taking his eyes off her.
“She stepped in front of the bullet.” Ciara rushed to his side and knelt next to Keiko. “I had to take out the hostage. I had no choice.”
The woman with the gun must’ve been a ‘bottom,’ one of the hostages that the traffickers had in charge of the others. That’s why the man who held Kaity had nervously glanced over his shoulder, knowing she had a gun to back him up.
Keiko panted for air and reached for him.
“Where are you shot?” he asked. “Why did you do it? You didn’t have to—”
“Early Christmas present.” She coughed and her face grimaced in pain. “I can’t breathe. Help me take this off.”
She tugged at her body armor and Mercer helped her with the Velcro straps. Her lungs filled with air when he took the vest off and she rolled to one side.
“Any holes?” She glanced over her shoulder, twisting her body, and ran fingers over her back to search for bullet wounds.
Mercer saw a large hematoma the size of a softball, along her ribs and spine. The vest stopped the bullet, but the impact gave her a huge blood bruise. She’d be feeling the pain for days. When her eyes met his, Mercer cupped her face in his hands.
“Don’t ever do that again,” he said. “Not for me.”
Her eyes welled with tears, but she only nodded and said, “Help me up, tough guy.”
Keiko hadn’t thought. She’d reacted on selfless instinct to protect him, knowing she might die. No one stepped in front of a bullet without understanding the consequences. His bodyguard specialist took a bullet for him—something she’d been trained to do—but from the look in her eyes, he wondered if Keiko had done it for another reason.
Mercer helped Keiko stand and ran a finger down her cheek, mouthing the words, “Thank you,” before he faced his team and the hostages.
“Let’s get these people to safety,” he said to his crew before he spoke to the women and boy. “Está seguro. Siga este hombre.”
He told them they were safe and the women cried and clung to each other. He asked them to follow Stetson. His man went to the boy who’d been assaulted and cradled the kid in his arms, escorting him and his mother to the van.
Mercer would have the hostages checked at a nearby hospital. He would arrange to have their medical bills paid and support their long term recovery by offering counseling for those who wanted it. It wouldn’t be enough for the horror they had survived. The road to recovery would be lonely and long—a lifetime—but he vowed to do what he could.
When he turned to Kaity, she collapsed in his arms and broke down. She could barely stand.
“Shh. You’re safe now,” he whispered in her ear. “Zoey never stopped looking for you. She loves you so much.”
He repeated the words in a soothing voice until she went limp in his arms. Mercer lifted her off the floor and carried her to the van, covering her eyes so she wouldn’t see the dead men.
After they loaded up the survivors, Mercer ordered his team to take them to the hospital, but he and Karl wouldn’t join them until later—Karl had work to do.
Mercer prayed they would find the head of the snake this time.
***
Laramie Mountains
North of Cheyenne, Wyoming
1:50 a.m.
Zoey paced the floor in the library, the room where she’d kissed Mr. January. She felt closer to him there. She stared out the window onto the pristine grounds. Security lights cast eerie shadows on the trees and every dark hollow looked as if it moved under the moonlight and the sway of branches.
When a woman barged into the study, looking anxious with a sense of urgency, Zoey startled with the intrusion.
“I need you to come with me. Now,” the woman said.
“Where are we going? Does Mr. January know?”
“Mr. January?” The woman smiled. “Does he know you call him that?”
“Yes, I told him.” Zoey raised her chin in defiance. “He said he’d been called worse.”
“Well, ain’t that the truth.” She grinned, but when Zoey didn’t budge, she said, “Mr. January found your friend. She’s alive. He’s taking her to a hospital. He wants you to meet her there.”
Zoey couldn’t help it. The news felt like a gut punch, the very best kind. She broke down and didn’t care who saw. Tears flooded her eyes and she dropped to her knees, crying and praying.
“Oh my, God.” She clutched at her stomach and doubled over. “I didn’t think I’d ever—”
“You’re very lucky. We’re very lucky.” The woman corrected herself. “We don’t always get good news on abduction cases. Come on. Let’s go.”
This time, Zoey didn’t hesitate. She got to her feet and followed the woman Mr. January had sent to her. She’d get a chance to thank him, face-to-face, and it warmed her heart.
***
Cheyenne, Wyoming
2:10 a.m.
Wearing gloves, Mercer broke into the project manager’s office in the construction zone, using a lock pick. He had Karl harnessed and on leash until they got inside. The dog paced with excitement and wagged his tail, anxious to work. Inside, the office was dark until Mercer flipped the lights.
A desk had a computer hard drive, as well as a laptop. He would confiscate those, but he let Karl off leash and put his partner to work.
“Seek.” He gave the command and the dog lowered his head and swept through the space, darting back and forth until he gave his indication sign—laying down and whimpering.
Mercer knew he’d struck gold when Karl yelped at a wood panel wall behind the desk. He narrowed his eyes, unsure what the dog had found. Nothing was obvious.
“What is it, boy?”
Mercer used his hands to run along the wall. He knocked and noticed a hollow sound and cooler air wafting in from along a seam. Seconds later, he found a secret compartment and punched it open. Karl nudged his nose inside and licked his big score.
“Good boy.” He gave Karl a treat after he found a thumb drive and a SIM card locked in a plastic case. “Bingo.”
He couldn’t imagine a good legitimate reason for a construction site to use a secret compartment to hide electronic media or storage devices. Only criminals used such things.
“You’re brilliant, Karl. Nilah will be very happy.”
He retrieved the devices, careful not to ruin any fingerprints, and dropped them
into a plastic evidence bag. As if she were a mind reader, Nilah’s voice came over his com unit. She sounded excited. Her energy came through his ear piece.
“I’m heading to Cheyenne Regional Medical Center, West. I should be there in thirty minutes. I’ve got Zoey with me. Where are you?”
Mercer kept his full attention on Karl.
“Seek.” He gave another command to his dog and had him work the other side of the project manager’s office.
“We’re almost done,” he said. “Karl is still working. Give me twenty minutes and we’ll be gone. You can make that anonymous call to report bodies at the construction site. Let the project manager explain why traffickers are using his location to cover their illegal operation.”
“Will do, but I thought you might want to be at the hospital when Zoey sees Kaity. That’s why I called, to give you a heads up to meet us. You deserve to be there, Wolf.”
“Let me think about it.”
Mercer shut his eyes and took a deep breath. To see Zoey happy would give a lift to his soul and he could use it, but she didn’t need him around to get back to her life. He’d only be a reminder of what happened. Zoey would have her best friend, a survival story that rarely ended well, and he would have his mission with Karl. That had always been enough.
“Oh, come on. You know you want to see this.” Nilah pleaded. “We don’t get good news often. Come be with your team. Take a victory lap.”
“Thanks for thinking of me, Wizard.”
“That’s the spirit. See you there.”
“Come on, Karl. Let’s go, boy.”
After his dog gave his last indication and an iPad had been retrieved, Mercer loaded his four-legged partner into the Lincoln Navigator and climbed behind the wheel. Nilah would have plenty to analyze. Bit by bit, he had torn at the structure of the Hive, degrading its foundation in search of the head of the snake. He hoped to give Nilah another piece to the puzzle. Whether that happened or not, the mission had been a success for the lives they saved.
