The Gallows at Midnight

by Courtney Lynn Rose

  “Good.” I grab a small black box, transmitter, speaker, and cable.

  I click one end of the cable into a port on the living room television, the other into the back of the box. As I connect the box to the transmitter and speaker, Dresden clips another portable transmitter to the back of my belt then reaches around me and runs a small microphone up the inside of my shirt, clipping it around my collar.

  “Thank you,” I mutter turning to face him. “Give me yours and turn around.”

  I fix his the same way as mine, before returning to the duffel bag. Slinging a strap holding my shotgun to my back, I turn the TV on. Images of the inside of the duffle bag pop up on the screen.

  “What the hell is this?” Agent Johanson’s voice makes my blood boil.

  “Closed-circuit monitoring,” Dresden hisses. “Now, shut up.”

  I slide on my shoulder holsters followed by my black leather jacket. Turning to the group, Dresden pulls out two pairs of yellow-tinted sunglasses, each with a very small camera attached to the right eyepiece. We slide them on, and the team is reflected on the TV.

  “Lily?” Blake stands and moves quickly to stand in front of me. He cups the side of my face and kisses me hard. Resting my hand on his chest, he sighs and rests his forehead against mine.

  “I love you,” he whispers.

  The hum of a helicopter vibrates the house.

  “I love you, too. You’ll be able to see and hear us the entire time. Everything we see, you’ll see. You won’t like it, I promise you. But you wanted to know.”

  “Be careful.”

  I kiss him lightly again, smiling. “I always am.”

  As Blake moves back to the sofa, Sorina runs to me, hugging me hard. I kiss her hair, and silently, with unshed tears in her eyes, she goes back to sit between Blake and Agent Morris. Dresden walks to Shannon, leans down, and kisses her gently.

  “Hurry back,” she says in a strained voice.

  “I will, mein schatz.”

  “Time to go, Python.”

  He turns to me smiling. “Let’s go kill some shit.”

  A helicopter bearing the name ‘Sand Snake II’ on the side hovers in the middle of the yard, a ladder thrown from the side. Dresden and I climb up and sit with two other Interpol agents. I pull the fax from my jacket before putting the cans over my ears.

  “Where are we heading, Viper?” the pilot sounds in my ears.

  “Here are the coordinates. Just outside Lovingston, Virginia. Small ring. Six buyers, fifteen slaves, twenty Taurus members. The main target is Mophat Garzzim.”

  The helicopter soars through the air. Dresden stares out over the clouds. His jaw is tense, his fists clenching and unclenching in his lap.

  “You okay?”

  He turns toward me. “Are you?”

  I shrug, reaching up to tighten my ponytail. “I’ll be better when these fuckers are dead and we’re on our way home.”

  He laughs. “Well, thankfully, we’ve got this down to an art now.”

  “Yep.”

  We both pull our cans off and insert our earbuds. Thirty-two deaths to add to a very long list of justifiable murders.

  This is what I’m good at.

  6

  ~Lily~

  “Here are the extra supplies you might need,” one of the agents says, sliding a small duffle bag to Dresden.

  He unzips it, shuffles the contents around and nods to the agent. “Thanks.”

  They drop two ropes out the side and hand us gloves. We slide them on, and I peek out the helicopter’s opening.

  “You all don’t do harnesses, do ya?”

  I shake my head, and lay prone, sliding backward, gripping the rope. Dresden follows. Once we’re both dangling, I wrap my leg around it and nod. Easily, we descend. It’s at least seventy, maybe eighty feet. I sigh in relief when my feet touch the ground again.

  The ropes are pulled up and the helicopter heads south, flying low. They’ll wait in a nearby field until we give them a sign to be picked up. Moving to the main door, Dresden pulls a small blueprint from the duffle bag.

  “This is the only door in or out. To the right is the door leading to the back where the girls and Taurus will be. Six doors on the left will each hold a buyer and their bodyguard. Sleep grenades on the buyers, we’ll handle them last.”

  Quietly, he picks the lock on the front door and pulls it open. The glasses illuminate the pitch-black hallway as the door closes behind us. Dresden pulls a rope from the duffle before slinging it over his shoulder.

  We move to the far-left end of the hallway. Silently opening the first door, I throw in a sleep gas grenade. Voices erupt inside for a moment, but fall, ending with two thuds. Dresden ties the rope to the handle. We move along and do this to each room until all six have been hit with a grenade and the handles tied together. At the last door, he runs the rope to the main door and secures it. No one can get in or out now without cutting the rope, and they’ll have to go through us to do it.

  “And that, ladies and gents, is how you subdue and secure buyers until it’s their turn to die,” Dresden whispers, knowing the microphones are sensitive enough to pick up his voice.

  I shake my head at his audacity. “Don’t narrate this for my daughter, Python.”

  He chuckles and shrugs.

  Standing outside the door leading to the back, we take deep breaths. This is where it gets tricky. It’s locked, giving us no quiet way to enter because there’s no keyhole on the lock— it deadbolts from the other side. Dresden stands behind me as I pull the shotgun from my back. He nods as I aim the barrel at the handle. I squeeze the trigger, the blast echoing around us.

  The handle blows apart and I kick the door in. Yells erupt inside as Dresden throws something over my head. He wraps his arms around me and turns us away from the door.

  A loud bang goes off, intense bright light bursting around us. He and I scramble up and through the door. Three men stand inside, leaning against the walls, holding their ears. Dresden hits the first in the head with a round from his .45. A second man staggers toward me. I aim and squeeze the trigger of my shotgun again.

  We stalk through the hallway, approaching the third man. I bend down and pull the hunting knife from my ankle. As I stand, Dresden grabs his shoulder and yanks him forward. The knife enters the dip at the base of his throat, blood running down the front of him, a gurgle escaping his throat as the red liquid seeps from the corners of his mouth.

  I rip the knife out and wipe the blade on my pants. “Seventeen left.”

  To my right is another door. I kick it open. A young girl, no more than a year older than Sorina, lies naked on a filthy mattress, her hands tied to a pole above her head. Tears stream down her face as a dark-skinned man buries himself inside her. Grabbing his shoulder, I throw him backward, his head bouncing off the floor.

  The girl sobs, twisting to hide her face.

  “Relax, we’re here to set you free,” I whisper using my knife to cut the ropes. She scrambles to her feet, backing into the corner.

  “You cunt,” the man snarls behind me.

  I swivel around as he lunges forward. Jabbing the knife upward, it slides under his ribcage, all the way to the handle. He grabs my neck and squeezes for a moment.

  “Lean back, baby,” Dresden says.

  A smile creeps onto my face as I obey. The man’s eyes widen— his head turns toward Dres’ voice just as a machete connects with his neck. His hand drops to his side, Dresden’s blade stuck two-thirds of the way into his flesh, his spinal cord severed. Blood spatters out onto my chest and chin. I kick the body in the stomach, knocking it to the floor and dislodging the machete in the process.

  “Put something on and run down to the end of the hall. We’re getting the others. Help will be here for you all shortly.”

  She nods, moving toward us. As she passes, she kisses my cheek and then Dresden’s. “Thank you,” she says with a heavy French accent. A lot of the survivors over the last year have the same reaction when we fr
ee them. In many ways, we’ve gotten used to it.

  Following her out, we move down the hallway. Around the corner is a wall of one-way glass. In the center is our target, Mophat Garzzim. With him is a girl, maybe nineteen with long blonde hair, hanging by her wrists from a metal hook. Mophat holds a beaded flogger, lashing it against her skin in quick succession. She squeezes her eyes shut, grimacing, but doesn’t scream.

  She’s a survivor.

  “Lily, come on,” Dresden hisses.

  “Go clear the next room. Give me a set of cable ties.”

  He fishes them out of the bag and slaps them down in my hand. As he ducks into the next room, a scream erupts followed by several shouts and a sickening crunch. Following the hallway past the closed door on the left, two men stand outside the door to the showroom. I pull out my .50 just as they reach inside their jackets.

  Squeezing the trigger rapidly, my arm aches with the effort to hold it level. The bullets sink into both men, dropping them to their knees before they slump to the floor on their faces. Stepping over them, I kick the door in, replacing my gun in its holster and unraveling one of my whips.

  “What da fuck!” Mophat turns as I flick my wrist, the smooth leather coiling around his neck.

  He gasps as I pull down, forcing him to trip and fall forward as I bring my knee into his face. Unraveling the whip, he fights to pull air back into his lungs as blood pours from his nose. Stepping over him, I plant my boot in the side of his face. I gently untie the girl and she drops into my arms, letting out a relieved sob.

  “I got you,” I whisper, steadying her.

  “Thank you,” she says lifting her head to gaze at me.

  I let go of her, pulling out one of the cable ties. More tightly than necessary, I bind Mophat’s hands together and pull him to his feet. He screams and thrashes about as I hang him from the hook in the center of the room.

  “Relax, Mophat. Hang out for a while. We’ll talk shortly.”

  A sinister smile pulls at my lips as I move to the girl. She glares at her torturer, hatred and pain shining in her eyes.

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “First, I want you to go get the other survivors from the front door and bring them in here. Then, I’m going to go help my partner finish killing this asshole’s friends. After that, we’ll question him and kill him.”

  She nods and I press one of my 9mm into her hand. “What’s this for?”

  “If you see a guy dressed like me, don’t shoot him. Kill anything else. Bring the others back here. And do not kill Mophat until I question him.”

  I jog from the room, scanning the open doors. A loud bang at the other end of the hall pulls my attention. Darting into the room, two men hold Dresden in place while another punches him in the face. Jumping into the air, I slam my hunting knife into the back of the one guy’s neck, severing his spinal cord. The other two drop Dresden’s arms and lunge at me.

  Punching one in the face, the other lands a right hook into my jaw, knocking me against the wall. I shake my head and kick his kneecap, snapping it— he screams falling to the floor. A gunshot echoes close to my head, the sound rattling my insides. My eyes close as the ringing in my ears drowns out everything else.

  Leaning against the wall, my eyes open, and everything comes back into focus. Shaking my head, I pounce on the guy trying to crawl toward me and snap his neck, the crunch reverberating through my hands. Dresden grabs my shoulder and hauls me into his arms, burying his face in my hair.

  “Don’t ever fucking worry me like that again. Are you okay?” He leans back and clasps my head in his hands.

  “I’m fine. Mophat’s secure. How many are left?”

  “Two.”

  “Let’s find ‘em.”

  Something hard connects with my stomach as we move through the doorway, knocking me back into the room. Dresden yells, diving to the right into the hallway. Two men the size of mountains stalk into the room.

  “Holy shit,” I mutter under my breath, scrambling to my feet. “Blake, if you can hear me, I love you.”

  Taking a deep breath, I pull out one of my guns. My body is tiring, and the guy on the right lands a punch to the side of my face before I can fire a shot. The gun clatters to the floor, as I bounce off the wall.

  Ouch. Motherfucker. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you it’s rude to hit women?”

  They both laugh, and I kick the closest one in the balls, sinking him to his knees. Pulling one of the small knives from the ban on my thigh, I thrust it into his eye. The other one lunges, and I grasp my hunter’s knife, timing perfectly to run it across his throat. He falls to the floor, blood spraying the concrete.

  Straddling the other one, I rip my small blade from his eye and slam it into his good one. “Fuck you both.”

  As I run from the room, I slam into Dresden’s chest. He hugs me again before grabbing my hand and pulling me toward the showroom. Bursting through the door, several girls scream.

  “Relax. We’re here to help, ladies,” Dresden says, calming them.

  The girl holding my gun smiles at me, relief flooding her face. Gently, I take the gun from her hands and replace it in the holster. Without blinking, I spin around, yank a blade from my thigh ban and sink it into Mophat’s shoulder. He screams, blood pulling on his shoulder, running down his shirt.

  “Shut up,” Dresden hisses, yanking another blade from my thigh and slamming it into Mophat’s other shoulder.

  “Who’s the leader, Mophat? Tell me and we’ll make this quick. Refuse, and I’m going do worse to you than you’ve done to these girls.” My voice is low and deadly, all emotion draining from my body.

  He glares at me, biting his bottom lip.

  “Have it your way,” Dresden says shrugging.

  I pull two more knives from my thigh, handing one to Dres. At the same time, we sink them into his sides and twist. Mophat screams, more red liquid soaking his shirt.

  “I’d start talking if I were you,” I say, shaking my head.

  “Fuck you,” he says through gritted teeth.

  “Fuck me? No. Fuck you.” I drop to my knees, pulling out two more blades and slam them into his hips.

  “Razvan. His name is Razvan,” Mophat screams.

  I smile and Dresden laughs. “Thank you.”

  I lay my hunter’s knife against his throat.

  “Wait!” My body tenses. As I twist, the girl I saved from this man steps forward.

  “I want to kill him.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. Stepping back, I flip the knife in the air, catching the blade and holding the handle out to her. “Be my guest.”

  With steady hands, she takes it and stomps toward him, pressing the blade against him in the same fashion as I had a moment ago.

  “Go to hell, you sick fuck,” she whispers, running the metal across his skin.

  Blood sprays onto her skin but she doesn’t flinch. After a moment, his head sags forward. She hands me the knife back and rejoins the other girls. Dresden and I walk them back to the front. After letting the girls out of the building, we quickly go through the buyers’ rooms and put a bullet in each one.

  Standing by the front door, we each pull out a regular grenade. Together, we pull the pins the throw them down each hallway. Darting out of the building, the bangs go off, setting off the rest of the building, anything and everything flammable catching. Within moments, the whole building is burning.

  I pull the glasses from my face and turn them so I’m looking into the camera. “I bet you all are ready to puke. Welcome to hell, guys. We’ll be home soon. Oh, and Sammi, disconnect the transmitter and wipe the internal memory. See you all in a few hours.”

  I press the power button on the camera as Dresden does the same. Several Interpol vehicles pull up, agents who are part of our undercover detail pour out to help survivors. The low hum of the helicopter vibrates through the air.

  Dresden grabs my face in his hands and stares into my eyes. “You okay?”

  “I�
��m fine. You?”

  “Yeah. Don’t scare me like that again. Next time, we stick together.” He leans forward and plants a hard kiss on my forehead before walking away to wait for the helicopter.

  Well . . . that was . . . unexpected.

  7

  ~Blake~

  Lily cut the camera feed six hours ago, and Sammi wiped the hard drive within minutes of the request. Sitting at the breakfast bar, tapping my thumb against the countertop, I squeeze my eyes closed remembering the way Dresden held Lily and cupped her face. Rage and jealousy have burned through my veins since that moment, despite her whispers of loving me while she was there.

  “You know she was probably fucking him the entire time they were off chasing bad guys,” Maria says from behind me.

  My entire body tenses. She’s done this all night— constantly making comments, trying to feed the anger already about to explode from my chest. She’s hoping Lily had an affair because, in Maria’s mind, that would make what we did less wrong. Not to me though. Two wrongs don’t make it right, as the old saying goes.

  “Miss Lily would never do that,” Teresa snaps, setting a mug of coffee in front of me more forcefully than she usually does. Teresa, like everyone else in this house, is fully aware of my one night fuck up with this crazy bitch. “And you need to go away. Stop trying to make shit worse.”

  Maria glares at her, eyes narrowed, lips curled in a wicked grin. Teresa may be older, but she’s not above slapping the shit out of someone if they need it.

  “Maria, go away. I don’t need this shit tonight,” I say with force.

  She huffs, her heels clicking against the floor, fading until a door slams. Letting out a relieved sigh, I take a sip of my coffee. Teresa leans against the counter, her eyebrows raised, waiting.

  “What?”

  “Mr. Mason, how long you think it’s gonna be before that woman tells Miss Lily the truth, huh?”

  I shrug, wincing as pain radiates through my left shoulder. Lily’s right, I should keep it in the sling and rest, but lying around doing nothing doesn’t appeal to me. I did that for a year and am over it at this point.