Sons of Justice 10 Deliver Us from Evil

by Dixie Lynn Dwyer

  Even now, three years later, she got that twinge of fear wondering if Barishna would ever find her and if he got her into his possession how angry he would be that she got the tattoo. That she erased the cut he inflicted on purpose as a symbol of possession and replaced it, replaced him and his evil with beauty.

  The tightness in her chest remained. Life went on. Uncertainty stood in her daily path, but she was determined to go on, to survive, and to hope one day to be free from the evil once and for all.

  Chapter One

  “How many fucking times have we gotten caught in the middle of some shithole with gunfire showering down over us, and all because of some dickhead asshole who should be dead anyway? I mean, what the fuck are we doing here? Giving our lives for this lost cause of terrorist scum?” Vacarro yelled after he just unloaded a shitstorm of gunfire onto multiple vehicles of enemy soldiers.

  They were ducking for cover now, ushering the three people they came here for tonight, trying to keep them from getting killed. Three men who the government needed to protect and get to safety because they provided information about artillery storage facilities in Bagdad. Tat led the way up the stairs of the building, Basile took the rear while Spadaro and Vacarro provided cover for the three people and got up to the rooftop.

  The sounds of bullets ricocheting against the building, nearly hitting their heads, had them squatting down for cover. Vacarro cursed again.

  “Fuck!” Tat exclaimed, watching over the three men he and the team were here to rescue and get to a safe location.

  “Where’s that air support?” Vacarro called out, firing his weapon over the top part of the roof where they were now forced to sit and wait.

  “Fuck if I know. This is bullshit!” Spadaro yelled back. He pushed his weapon behind his shoulder and crawled across the ground.

  “What the fuck are you doing, Spadaro?” Tat asked.

  “Ending this shit,” he said, crawling further in the dirt on the roof and making his way to the corner. He slowly moved up and turned toward Vacarro.

  “A group of five making their way to the corner and side entrance. If we don’t want to die on this fucking roof, then we need to face them all, buy some time for air support to get here.”

  “Fucking do it. Don’t get your asses killed.” Tat gave the order.

  Vacarro tossed the grenade and then fired upon the men below. Spadaro felt his heart racing, but he lived for this shit. Crazy, off-the-wall dangerous shit, both in the service and off duty. He lived and breathed military operations, orders from commanders, and Marine-issued everything.

  The shot rang out, shocking them, and Spadaro moved into action. He took out the guy climbing up onto the roof and ran toward the edge.

  “Spadaro!” Basile called out and so did Vacarro as he started shooting again.

  Spadaro saw the men, a barrel of a gun right on him. He jerked to the left, the bullet whizzed by his head, and then he used the butt of his rifle to slam into the guy’s head. He knocked him down, and another took his place. One, two, three, four, then five men, one after the next attempted to climb up onto the roof and take them all out. He could hear the yelling, weapons firing behind him, and he didn’t know if they were all going to die up here, but he wasn’t going to make that easy for these assholes. He shoved his firearm into the guy’s head and felt the pain hit his forearm. He pulled his pistol and shot, one, two, then three, taking three men out faster than they could return fire. He ducked when he heard another grenade go off as smoke filtered up from the ground and onto the rooftop.

  “Move, there’s a jeep on the other side. Let’s go,” Tat ordered.

  “Come on, you crazy bastard, you got them all,” Basile yelled.

  “We got them all,” Vacarro said, and they hurried back down the stairs, guns drawn, and then out to the jeep. Bodies lay on the ground, and no more men could be seen coming after them. They piled into the jeep, and Tat sped off toward the darkness of the desert and until the sound of rotors echoed in the distance.

  “They’re coming in. Basile, fire the flare.”

  Basile pointed the flare gun up, and the flare took off for the sky, illuminating the land around them and the sand dunes to the right on the hill.

  They seemed to catch the figures simultaneously and turned to shoot.

  One by one, Basile, Vacarro, and Spadaro fired back as men fired upon them, and Tat picked up speed.

  “Fuck!” He roared, and the jeep bounced and sand spit up all over them and then there was silence. The lights of the helicopter illumined all around them, and they knew they needed to make a run for it.

  “Let’s move,” Tat ordered, and they grabbed the three people they came here to rescue and ran toward the chopper. That fear, and concern that more men would start shooting at them, lessened the closer they got to the chopper. They were helped inside, Tat the last to get in after Spadaro.

  “Take off. We’re all in!” Tat ordered, and the chopper lifted up, taking off at a fast rate of speed, bringing them back to the military base under US control and operations.

  “Another successful mission men. Crazy bastards,” Tat said to them, raising his voice above the sound of the rotors.

  “Spadaro. It was all fucking, Spadaro. The craziest fucking Marine I’ve ever known,” Vacarro said, and Spadaro gave him a chin nod.

  “Says the other fucking psycho Marine,” Basile added, and they laughed.

  “Let’s just be glad the Corps has us on their side and not the enemies,” Tat stated.

  “Ooh Rah!” Spadaro cheered and raised his gun up.

  “Ooh Rah,” everyone except the three men who they rescued cheered.

  Spadaro leaned back against the seat, pulled out his cigar, and popped it into his mouth. They were going home. After six weeks on recon and formulating a plan to snag, grab, and rescue these three men. Who the fuck even knew why. When the Corps ordered an operation, Spadaro stood at attention, did as he was told, and succeeded. A Marine through and through, everything was in order, was the way of the Corps, and anything less was bullshit.

  * * * *

  “Why don’t you come work out at Hook and Flick’s place? They have a new self-defense training class that’s for beginners, but depending on your capabilities, you can advance to other classes and styles?” Merica said to Talia, Tiana, and Avana as they met for lunch.

  Talia smiled softly and glanced at Tiana and Avana. “You two should seriously consider it. It would be beneficial to be aware and learn some training just in case,” Talia said.

  “I know it’s a good idea and would be smart, but I’m not sure. Right now, I’m trying to figure out if I hate this job or am just settling,” Avana said to them.

  “Settling? I thought you liked the insurance firm?” Tiana asked her.

  “I like the consistency of hours and the paycheck. The clientele not so much. In fact, the owner, Tino, he’s a bit of a jerk. Plus, my boss, Austin, he’s always pointing out things for me to change, even though I follow the directions Margarete explained to me on how he likes things done. He doesn’t give anyone else a hard time,” Avana said.

  “Maybe he’s just trying to see if you have what it takes to remain working there? You know some bosses do that. They give you a hard time, are critical of the employees’ work, and it’s all a game to see if you can handle pressure and their demands, especially when they’re perfectionists. He sounds like a perfectionist,” Talia said to her.

  Avana shrugged, her head lowered as she stroked her ice tea glass with her pointer finger, wiping away the condensation forming on the outside.

  “Maybe, but it’s intimidating and makes me feel stupid. Like I don’t know what I’m doing. At Uncle Brook’s company everything ran smoothly,” she added.

  “Yeah well, he kind of destroyed that, and we’re on our own now,” Tiana said.

  “How is he doing anyway? Have you guys, Lauren, or Thylane heard from him?” Merica asked.

  “Nope. He apologized and was able to give us
nice severance packages somehow, and then he said he needed time to recoup and think about his life and what he needed to do next,” Tiana said.

  “Well, knowing Thylane, she’ll probably have her men help look into his well-being. So what do you say about those classes? It’s a good form of exercise,” Merica said to them.

  “I’ll think about it, I guess,” Avana said, and Tiana pursed her lips. “Maybe,” she added.

  “I’ll try it if you try it, Talia.”

  Talia looked at them.

  “I actually already engage in some training and martial arts.”

  “What? Where at and since when?” Merica asked her and leaned forward.

  Talia noticed Tiana and Avana’s shocked expressions, too. Well, maybe Avana looked unsure and as if Talia was bullshitting. Talia took a deep breath and exhaled.

  “I have a friend who does special training on the side, not really at a club like Hook and Flick have. It’s more one-on-one, and intense.”

  “How come you never said anything about it?” Merica asked her, squinting and definitely suspicious now.

  “Well, first of all, it never came up really, and secondly, you know I’m a pretty private person. All of us have just recently gotten to be such good friends and so quickly. It really isn’t a big deal, but it is something that I keep to myself. I don’t know, I guess it’s my thing. My backup plan if anyone tries to mess with me,” she said and winked.

  “Oh man, why does it sound like you can seriously kick some ass?” Merica asked, and Avana chuckled.

  “So that’s why she has the guts to be snappy with Spadaro. She’s got some moves,” Avana said, and Merica laughed.

  “Oh God, I only saw them twice, that team of men, and holy crap, if I didn’t know they were SOJ, I would think they were convicts or something,” Tiana said.

  “You aren’t kidding,” Avana added.

  “I know them a little bit, and even when they assisted in my rescue, they were abrupt, commanding, and snappy. However, they were compassionate and did empathize with my injuries and the fear I had. They are on a mission now I think. I mean, no one has seen them for over a month, and of course no questions.”

  “Anyway, did you hear from Marianna at all? I’m a little worried about her. She’s been acting funny,” Tiana said to them.

  “She’s meeting us tomorrow night at The Filling Station,” Talia said to them.

  “Great, maybe we can talk to her then and find out what’s going on,” Avana said to them.

  Talia agreed, but she already knew what was going on. Marianna’s fifteen-year-old brother, Samson, was hanging out with a bad crowd of older kids and doing drugs. Marianna caught him, and he took off and hadn’t been seen for a week.

  “Well, you ladies have a good time tomorrow night. I’ll be having a romantic dinner with my men,” Merica said, smiling.

  Talia smiled. She was envious of her friends who found true love and companionship in ménage relationships. Plus with men who really seemed protective and loving, not just after control and possession. Talia was in a different place still. A lonely one, where she felt on edge, scared, and distrusting. She thought about her brother, Nathan, and of course Bronco. She longed for the day they called or showed up and said the danger was gone. That Barishna was dead or behind bars. Suddenly, she couldn’t wait to go to her training session with Frankie this afternoon. Maybe if she worked out really hard, she wouldn’t wake up with a panic attack. Maybe?

  * * * *

  “So what do you think, Nathan?” Bronco asked him over the phone.

  “What do you mean, what do I think? You’re there. You think you caught sight of Barishna’s guard, check it out. Just don’t get fucking killed. I don’t like that there’s chatter of his partner Milton moving into an estate in Georgia. I don’t want any of this fuck’s associates in the United States. As soon as we confirm Milton is, in fact, in Georgia, I’ll make the calls to get him monitored and hopefully taken out. Maybe if we kill the asshole, Barishna will know we haven’t become complacent and lazy, that we still want his head on a platter,” Nathan stated.

  “Six feet fucking under, and I’ll dig and bury him to make sure it’s him. Okay, Woodrow and I will take care of this. You and Cole take care of investigating the possibility that Milton is in the States. Should we make Natalia aware?”

  “No. She doesn’t need to have further worry. Frankie said she’s still having the anxiety attacks. Avoiding talking about them, but they happen at night still.”

  “Of course she has them. She lives alone, and we only know part of what that asshole did to her. We’ll find Barishna, and we’ll kill him, Nathan. If it’s the last fucking thing we do, we’ll find him,” he said to Nathan.

  “I’ll talk to you soon,” Nathan said and ended the call.

  He leaned back in his chair and looked at Cole.

  “The sooner we end this, the better off she’ll be,” he said to Cole.

  “She’s tough, Nathan. A lot tougher than any of us had given her credit for. She’s established a form of income under the radar, a new life, new friends, and it’s a benefit that she resides right outside of Repose. Cesar and Spartan keep tabs on her, and she knows they’re there for her if need be. She’s smart.”

  “She lives in fear every day. While I was off serving my country, thinking that my sister was in a career, living in Europe like some wealthy debutant, she was being sold off by my fucking dick father, and used as a goddamn sex slave for that piece of scum Barishna. Goddamn, I’ll never forget that hollow, fearful look in her eyes when we found her tied down like some animal. Fuck, I want to tear Barishna apart. Literally tear that scumbag apart,” Nathan said, raising his voice and slamming his hand down on the desk.

  Cole walked over and placed his hand on his shoulder, a scowl on his face. His team, his brothers-in-arms, were with him when they finally found her, dying of starvation and tied up. Barishna left her as he went about his business, with plans of returning who knew when.

  “My God, Cole, you remember what she looked like. The cut to her side. His fucking initials? Fuck,” he said and ran his fingers through his hair.

  “All those images, what we put together, are our motivation to find him and kill him. We will do it, together, and Natalia will be safe once and for all,” he said to him. Nathan stared at him.

  “I will die trying to make that happen.”

  “Let’s hope none of us die, and only Barishna suffers a painful death.”

  “Sounds like a plan to me.” He straightened out his shoulders and exhaled.

  “Let’s get some assistance on locating Milton. If he’s in the US, then I want him found and eliminated.”

  “Perhaps if we find him, we keep surveillance on him, and maybe Barishna comes to us?”

  Nathan thought about that a moment. The need and focus to kill Barishna was overpowering strategy and calmness that would ultimately lead to his demise.

  “You’re right. It could, and we don’t have much to go on at all. Plus, being semiretired from the Berets, our connections are limited,” Cole said to him.

  “What we have is pretty good, and hopefully enough to end this and keep Natalia safe, so we can see her again.”

  “You’ll see her again, and be able to live near her and have the relationship that was taken from the two of you by your father.”

  Nathan thought about that and about how his father sold Natalia to Barishna, and tried covering it up and forcing some kind of marriage on them. It never happened, and his father disappeared, too. “I’ll make a few phone calls. I guess be ready to take a trip if need be for confirmation and to do surveillance.”

  “Oh yeah, if Milton is there, then I want to be right there watching, too. I know Barishna’s walk and mannerisms. No amount of plastic surgery or disguise can hide those things—he’s too fucking narcissistic to give up his identity entirely.”

  Chapter Two

  “So if you can get that specific fabric shipped out to them later today,
that would be fantastic. I have a truck heading to the airport by three,” Talia said to one of the associates who worked shipping and sales with her.

  “That’s not a problem at all. I’ll personally make sure that fabric is delivered and on time. On another note, Mary Capellon wants to meet with you face-to-face to discuss a large order. She wants to import some Italian fabrics and designs and was hoping that you could assist.”

  Talia’s gut clenched. She really tried to keep a low profile. That meant not using any of her connections in Europe she had from years ago. Mrs. Capellon was a very creative designer, and her storefronts provided evening wear for many celebrities and wealthy aristocrats.

  “Well, you know that I don’t meet anyone in person, that I conduct all business over the phone or online.”

  “It’s a huge opportunity, Talia. The contacts you’ll make and higher-priced orders for imported fabrics will be amazing.”

  “I understand that, but I just don’t feel comfortable expanding like that.”

  “We’ll lose her, and the contract.”

  She thought about it and the worry, the risks of getting into overseas lines.

  “Will you at least think about it? She claims that what she needs will put an order of over five hundred thousand on fabric alone.”

  “What?”

  “Yes, exactly. Now I don’t know why can’t meet her in person or negotiate a deal for the fabric. Not with that kind of price tag on it.”

  “No, I suppose that would be stupid to throw away. Let me see what I can do first, then I’ll call her.”