Scooter

by Marie James

  Kill them all.

  Although I try to clear my mind of everything else, her words echo in my head, becoming my mantra for the day. I couldn’t tell her that we were given that order. People would be in an uproar if they knew that on many occasions, we’re told to leave no one standing. Human life is valuable. That’s proven by the saturation of sex trafficking around the world. It’s a market reliant on the abduction, rape, and torture of men, women, and children, and it’s become an epidemic, a virus touching the lives of too many people.

  We end some of that today. In less than an hour, we’ll rid the world of three major players in the South American sex trade. I won’t even let myself consider a different outcome. The Cortez brothers and Jiménez will not see the sunrise ever again. Even if I have to make sacrifices that prevent me from returning to New Mexico, I’ll have their blood on my boots before the sky transitions from night to day.

  “Ready?” Kincaid asks from the head of the table in the command post.

  We all nod as echoes of magazines being slid into place make their way around the room.

  We split into five teams as we walk out of the building. Four are heading to the main compound, and one team, made up solely of Blackbridge men, is heading to the smaller one.

  The men manning the two tanks are already in position. I’m on Bravo Team with Jinx, Hound, and Snatch. As we drive to our drop point, my leg bounces with adrenaline and hatred for these types of men.

  Jinx leans in close, his shoulder still a few inches from mine due to all the gear we’re wearing. We aren’t any more heavily armed than we normally are. We enter each raid as if we’re traversing Hell, and we’re prepared for anything.

  “Is your head where it needs to be?” I nod because it is. My few moments of meditation earlier compartmentalized the parts of Mia that have no business with me right now, and my only focus is clearing this compound. “You seem anxious.”

  “I’m great,” I tell him, and deep in my bones, I know it’s the truth.

  Maybe things being personal is a good thing. It makes me want the victory that much more.

  We don’t have time for more conversation because the armored vehicle we’re riding in jolts to a stop, and we pile out of the back.

  “Keep ten feet behind the tank,” Snatch says as we exit. “They’re going to break through the concrete wall and open up a pathway. Each of you knows your assignments. Be safe. Kill them all.”

  That’s as good as instructions from God himself as far as I’m concerned. I don’t imagine getting stuck on the wrong side of the pearly gates because I put a bullet in some asshole’s head is going to happen, and if it does… worth it.

  With a clear head and my focus where it should be, I don’t even jerk when an explosion is heard from the other side of the property.

  “That’s our cue,” Snatch says into his mic. “Alpha Team has made their presence known at the front gates.”

  With this news, the tank starts to roll forward, moving much quicker than one would expect from a twenty-six-ton vehicle.

  We keep our distance as the distant firefight continues.

  Stupidly, Cortez never imagined that someone would have the ability to breach his property from the back because the house is only thirty yards from the property line, and in a matter of minutes, we’re using the battering ram on the back door.

  Bullets fly from the top of the compound, but the tank raises its main gun and blasts a hole the size of an SUV. Our Kevlar helmets protect our heads from falling debris, and on the third slam of the battering ram on the door, it swings open. We’re met with a hail of bullets, but a couple of flashbangs shut that shit down quickly.

  We move in with the smoke, my own weapon firing at anything that moves, planting bullets in soft flesh until all movement stops. Strategically, according to the plans that were drilled into our heads at the command center, we move from room to room. They have more men than we do, but they aren’t nearly as prepared or experienced as we are.

  “They’re all dead,” Grinch hisses into his mic.

  “We haven’t even made it to the second floor,” Shadow responds. “There’s still more to neutralize.”

  “The women,” Grinch specifies. “The basement is filled with dead bodies. They killed all the women before we got here.”

  Rage fills my blood, but at the same time, I’m also hit with a sense of relief that this happened here and not in Miami. I couldn’t imagine what my life would be like without Mia in it.

  “Stay focused,” Kincaid says. “We still have a job to do.”

  I swallow the lump of emotion that is trying to form in my throat and move across the floor as planned. There isn’t a thing we can do for those women now except making every one of these fuckers pay with their lives.

  Two more men drop in front of me, the triple burst of my weapon making it easy, and my feet shuffle me deeper inside. The acrid scent of gunpowder seeps into my system, and I remember why I love this job so much. These men dropping in front of me mean absolutely nothing. I don’t feel a thing other than unadulterated joy watching them crumple to the ground at my feet, but I’m not here for the hired guns. I want the three men running this ship.

  Since we didn’t have enough intel to know where they’d be in the house, they couldn’t be targeted by any specific team, but I’m making it my personal mission to watch the light fade from Jiménez’s eyes, and a bonus for that deviant bitch he’s taken under his wing. The CIA won’t learn any more than they already know about her, and letting her walk out of this compound still breathing the South American air isn’t an option.

  Like the tactical team we are, the first floor is cleared. Twelve men, six on each, split between the two staircases, each of us popping off rounds as targets present themselves. Part of the ceiling collapsed from the tank fire, but we manage to work our way around it easily enough.

  The second floor is cleared in a matter of minutes, and still, no one has confirmed the elimination of any of the three main targets.

  “Blackbridge confirms that Luis Cortez was neutralized across town,” Shadow says into his mic.

  That’s one down, I think as I clear the closet in an extravagant bedroom. Personal items are on the dresser, including an expensive looking set of cufflinks, and there’s a discarded pair of high heels near the bed. This room is too nice for guests, so our targets can’t be far.

  “Jinx, I need thermal in here.”

  He was mere feet behind me when I entered the room, so it doesn’t take long until he’s by my side. Jinx scans the room, and he doesn’t find anything until a halo of color appears on his screen around the huge painting in the walk-in closet.

  “Xavier Cortez is down,” Kincaid announces. “Panic room in the closet. It took an ounce of plastic to get to him.”

  “Jiménez has to be in there,” Jinx says as he walks toward the painting.

  I cover his back as he rips the priceless piece of shit from the wall.

  Sure enough, there’s a door that has a keypad lock on it. In a matter of seconds, it’s rigged with the explosive, and Jinx and I take cover on the outside of the closet for detonation.

  Smoke fills the closet, but it’s no more than what we’re used to. Jinx covers me while I swing the door open. We wait for a break in the gunfire before engaging.

  Cursing and a woman sobbing can be heard, and then I realize that Jiménez and Gabriella Butler are in here alone. This fool thought a steel door controlled by an electric panel was going to be enough to keep him and his whore safe? Ignorant. He doesn’t have men guarding him or have an anteroom for added protection. Butler is cowering at his side while he tries to figure out why his weapon misfired. He’s spouting curse words in Spanish at such a rate it sounds like one long insult.

  Without a word, I put three bullets in Butler. She doesn’t even have time to protest before she’s gone. I’m glad that Mia didn’t give me specifics about how Gabi helped the men hurt her. They wouldn’t even be able to identify the damn
body if she had.

  Jiménez wails as he’s racked with genuine sorrow. He jostles Butler’s body, pulling her to his lap, and it’s clear that he’s just lost the love of his life. He doesn’t have to worry though. Before long, he’ll be joining her in Hell.

  “You fucked up,” I taunt him.

  He rocks back and forth, begging in his native tongue for none of this to be true.

  Jinx reloads beside me, but I hold my hand up to keep him from ending this before I have the chance to do it myself. The order was to kill them all, but my desire to string him up and torture him for days or weeks or months is stronger than I ever anticipated.

  I can already hear the conversation about ethics coming from Shadow and Kincaid, so I know I’ll only have a few minutes before I spray him with bullets.

  “Your days of hurting people are over,” I tell him, but I don’t think he can hear me over his own sobs.

  Not having his undivided attention annoys me, so I unholster my Glock from my hip and shoot him in the leg, down low on his shin to avoid him bleeding out too quickly.

  Jiménez yelps in pain, forgetting his dead woman as he grabs for the new injury.

  “I fucking hate men like you.” I crouch low and look him in the eye.

  “Scooter,” Jinx warns.

  None of this is protocol. Protocol would’ve been shooting him without hurting the woman the second we entered the room. Right now, I’m a predator playing with the prey, and that’s frowned upon with Cerberus. Hell, it’s grounds for being released from my contract with the club, but at this moment, I’m fine with that outcome.

  “You see—”

  Funny that I’m saying those words when I don’t actually see Jiménez pull a pistol from his boot. This gun doesn’t backfire like his first one did. He gets off at least three rounds, screaming like a vigilante before Jinx lights his ass up. His body shakes and jerks like he’s being electrocuted, each bullet hitting center mass.

  I feel like I’ve been hit by the tank outside and runover twice as I lose my balance and crash backward. All I can remember is the chipped paint on the concrete ceiling before my world begins to fade. My last thought before the darkness takes over is that I knew a sacrifice had to be made today, and all three men are dead. It’s what Mia needs to start healing.

  Chapter 20

  Mia

  My mind is racing.

  He promised he’d call.

  He hasn’t.

  Not wanting to interrupt his work since I know how dangerous it is, I haven’t tried calling or texting him either.

  He said they were going to raid the compounds shortly after we got off the phone. That was twelve hours ago, and I’ve yet to hear a peep.

  With my phone in my hand, I make my way downstairs. It’s early evening, and dinner was tense with the girls. There wasn’t much conversation, and I could easily tell that they were just as worried as I was, which concerned me even more because, as the wives of these guys, they’ve been doing this for years and years.

  Emmalyn smiles at me as I enter the living room. She’s on the sofa with a book in her hands. The tension from earlier seems to be gone.

  “Have you heard from Diego?”

  She frowns at me, and I’m terrified she’s going to give me horrible news, but my phone rings in my hand.

  ‘Scooter’ flashes on the screen, and I don’t even bother saying a word to Emmalyn before turning around and flying back up the stairs to the room I stayed in last night.

  “Hello?” My voice cracks when I answer, but I’m still too worried to care.

  “Sweet Mia,” Ryan breathes into the phone.

  Relief washes over me instantly, but it doesn’t stop the tremble in my hands.

  “I thought you’d call sooner,” I complain, feeling like an old mother hen.

  He chuckles, but even through the phone, I can tell there’s no humor in his voice.

  “I’ve been worried about you.”

  “I’m fine. Everyone is okay.”

  He’s called as he promised, but it’s clear he doesn’t really want to talk.

  “How did it go?” I ask, needing to keep him on the line. His voice is the only thing that’s keeping me sane.

  “I can’t really talk about the mission.” He sighs loudly, and it’s the most frustrating sound.

  “Are they dead? Is he dead?”

  I know they were going after three men, but he knows which one I’m asking about specifically. Luis Jiménez haunts my every thought.

  “He’s dead,” he confirms. “They’re all dead.”

  It feels like a ten-ton weight has been lifted from my shoulders. In an instant, I feel lighter, knowing those evil men will no longer walk the earth. They will no longer hurt people. Knowing that their final breaths have been taken alleviates some of the shame and brokenness that’s been tormenting me.

  “Thank you,” I whisper.

  He can’t possibly know what his actions mean for my mental well-being.

  Or maybe he does. Maybe he can sense the change I already feel deep inside of myself. I want him here. I need to see that he’s okay. I want to wrap my arms around him, brush my lips against his. I want to hold him against me and beg him never to go away again.

  “Anything for you, Sweet Mia.”

  “When will you be back?”

  Silence fills the line, and I can’t help but feel like he’s hiding something. Everything isn’t okay. There’s something wrong, and he’s keeping it to himself. I hate the distance between us right now, both physically and emotionally, but I can’t blame him. I’ve been distant myself for weeks. I’ve only given him peeks at who I am now, afraid opening up to him fully will only lead to more pain and anger.

  “I don’t know,” he finally answers. “We have a lot of shit left to do.”

  “Is there more danger?” I’m a fool for thinking it’s over. It’s never over. It’ll never be over. Just because those three evil men are gone doesn’t mean a damn thing. There’re other men. Men ready to take their places. Men already operating in a world where women serve no purpose other than being toys meant to be played with and defiled. Cerberus will never be able to rid the world of those men. They’re fighting a losing battle, one that grows exponentially every day.

  “There’s always more danger,” he confirms. “Always another piece of shit. Always another compound to raid. Always another woman to rescue.”

  I snap my mouth shut, hating that he seems to be able to read my mind. It’s also worrisome that he’s telling me these things now when normally he’d keep these truths to himself. Something has shifted. Something is different, and I hate it. I don’t necessarily want to be lied to or placated, but it’s out of character for him to speak these truths to me, especially when it doesn’t come with his normal assurances that he’ll continue to keep me safe or telling me that they’re doing their best and will continue to fight the monsters most people only hear about on the evening news.

  “Listen, Mia. I have to go.”

  He hangs up before I can tell him bye or drill him for more answers. The silence coming through on my cell phone is deafening, yet I hold the thing to my ear with the hope that I’m mistaken. He didn’t just shut me down with a few whispered words.

  Tears burn my eyes, and even though I vowed my crying days were over, I do nothing to stop them from spilling down my face.

  My nose stings, causing me to sniffle, and I hate myself for not being able to find the strength I was sure I was building since I came to New Mexico. I feel weak once again. I feel needy and lost.

  Is this what he’s like after every mission? Maybe he needs some time to process what he’s done.

  Does killing those men weigh on him as I expected before? I don’t imagine it’s easy to pull a trigger and end a life, no matter how heinous the people were.

  I stiffen my back, keeping my eyes focused on the window until my tears dry. He said he was okay, and I have to believe that he is. He called, so that means physically he’s fine
, but I also know that it’s the mental pains and injuries that take the longest to heal.

  I vow to be what he needs when he gets home, just like he was for me. We can heal together. I can be everything that he needs and more.

  If he’s willing to let me.

  A knock on the bedroom door jolts me from my thoughts, and I give Emmalyn a weak smile when she sticks her head inside.

  “Did Scooter call?”

  I nod, smiling when I hear his club name. I only think of him as Ryan, but everyone else calls him Scooter. Maybe I enjoy it so much because I know that they are two different people. Ryan is the one who holds me at night when the nightmares keep me from wanting to close my eyes. He’s the one who crawled into the hospital bed with me when I couldn’t find peace. He’s the one that protects me while still being able to let me gain some of my own independence.

  Scooter goes after the bad guys. He rids the world of trash and evil men.

  Now I’m wondering if I just spoke to Scooter instead of Ryan. Maybe that’s the difference. Maybe since he’s away and working, he doesn’t have the ability to be the man I know. Maybe he’s only capable of being Scooter right now.

  That thought calms me even further because I know the man that will come back will be the man I need, just like I’ll be the woman he needs.

  “They’re all safe,” Emmalyn says when I don’t respond further. “That’s all we ever ask for. Now come downstairs and join us for dinner and a movie. We only have another day or so until the guys come back and make so much noise, we think we’re going crazy.”

  I don’t even hesitate to climb off the bed and follow her to the living room. When I see that she has delivery pizza on the table along with individual salads, I feel a rush of guilt. I’ve been using these people every day since I arrived. I haven’t pulled my weight or helped out in any capacity. I hate using people, so I make another vow, one that includes helping and doing what I can to make things around here easier for everyone.

  “I hope you like veggies,” Misty says as she pours a couple of glasses of wine. “When the guys get home, all they want is meat and more meat on their pizzas.”