“You think they’ve got a termination plan in play.” He went back and cut a shoelace free from a guard’s boot, then used that to secure the fabric in a makeshift drape. It would be less obvious from the floor if the fabric was still in place, but he didn’t want to be fighting to see around it. The two inches he’d created at the bottom would be all the space he’d need. He ejected the magazine from the rifle and checked it, pushing down on the top cartridge to find the container full. Perfect. “Makes sense. None of the guards or other employees have their faces covered. The kids would be able to identify them.”
“If they got out.” Alace’s voice had turned cold, steady as steel. “What’s the plan?”
“The plan is I kill these motherfuckers.” The running narration stumbled and inserted, “Translation not available.” His laugh almost escaped and he barely choked it back. “Okay, that was hilarious. We need to teach the system swears.” He propped the barrel of the rifle on the window ledge and knelt behind it. “I am using an unfamiliar weapon, so there might be a moment or two of adjustment. I got this, Alace. The sound will bounce off the walls and by the time they locate me, they will be dead.”
“The auction room is through that wall opposite where you are.”
Owen paused. “The walls are not thick.” She made a sound. “There are kids in that room, Alace. Did you see the monitor they were watching?”
“I’ve got the stream, yes.”
Owen chewed on his bottom lip, thinking. “Can you get into their radios? Do we know the frequency? What if you bring one or two of those guards back into the main room of the building? That would leave only two for the auction and they would be more cautious about coming out and leaving the event exposed. Make them slower to react.”
“Lemme see what I can do.” A moment later, a radio crackled to life behind him and he grinned. “…us a hand.” Alace was in stereo, with one version female, the real one in his head, and one a muffled male voice, the one coming from the radio unit in the room.
“Say again?”
Owen studied the guards below him, convinced none of them was the speaker. Which was good, because just those two words screamed military, which was a complication he didn’t want or need.
“Say again control. Did not copy.”
“…with the door. Give us a…” The crackling static that broke up her words was genius. Instead of using a name or phrase that might be a hint it wasn’t one of the actual guards speaking, interjecting static provided a fill-in-the-blank communication that sounded plausible. If they weren’t on high alert—which they weren’t but should be due to buyers being on site, just saying—then the guards would simply hear what they expected to hear.
“Jesu—” The muttered transmission was cut off in mid-word and Owen settled himself. There was a door in the opposite wall. Aiming his confiscated rifle at the bottom of the door, he pulled in a slow, deep breath. It opened and he fired. The trigger never came to rest, already being depressed even as the hot cartridge was ejected, shiny cylinder flying through the air. The second man fell on top of the first and Owen slid to the side, pressure applied to the trigger again as his next target came into view. He kept a mental tally as he went. Three. The silence was so profound he didn’t know if it was a result of the gunfire or his focus. Didn’t matter right now. The next target was on the move, but it was an easy adjustment to nail him from the back. He fell and the barrel of the rifle moved again, lining up precisely as Owen’s finger depressed the trigger a fifth time. Four. He missed, grunting in disappointment as he adjusted and fired again. He didn’t watch the man fall, looking for the final guard. Five. He saw a rifle pointed his direction but didn’t flinch as the wood and metal above his head took a hit, shards and splinters flying. He released the last of his initial breath as the man fell, blood spraying in a wide arc behind him.
Six.
He shifted back to the entrance that had been his initial target, pleased to see the two men had fallen far enough inside the room that the door had closed fully.
“What the hell’s going on?” That was definitely not military guy on the radio, and Owen had a moment to relish the panic in this man’s tone.
Alace responded to the question with a blatant downplaying of what had transpired. “…still having trouble. Nothing to worr—” The radio cut off, and in Owen’s ear, she said, “Two more targets coming your way. Not guards. The last two are staying put in the auction room.”
The door opened and he saw two men in white button-down shirts standing and gawping at the bodies lying on the floor in front of them. Three shots later their bodies had wedged the door open. Seven, eight.
“Time to go on the offensive.” He collected the magazines from the three guards in the room with him and went down the stairs the same way he’d come up them, his pace fast but controlled. As he crossed the room, Owen glanced up the aisle he’d been walking earlier and saw Nate’s gaze fixed on him. The boy fucking dipped his chin at him, granting Owen a single nod as if in approval. Owen gestured, making a motion for the boy to get down, and Nate ducked; then Owen saw the other boy, Tony, duck too. Nate, Walt, Tony, Natalie. They were as protected as he could make them until he finished clearing those involved with the warehouse and auction. Everything for the kids. “Got anything for me, boss lady?”
“No change in the targets’ behavior. I don’t think the sound was truly audible in the auction room after all. They’re carrying on like nothing’s happened.” He heard a soft sound that lifted into a tune and realized Alace was humming. A lullaby. Surreal didn’t cover how bizarre this moment felt. “There.” Pipes rattled overhead and he glanced up. “Just in the auction room, and only enough to put them all to sleep. The kids don’t need to have these memories.”
“How did you know to trust what was in their system?”
“Delivery receipts. They have everything digitized, so it wasn’t hard to find.” Alace cleared her throat. “What’s the plan?”
Speaking plainly, leaving nothing to chance, he told her, “None of those bastards walks out of here alive. If I let them live, they will get off on a technicality.” He knew that for a fact, because half the buyers he had paper on so far had been busted for pedophilia before, with none of them serving any time. A combination of corrupt officials and skilled lawyers, paired with unlimited funds, had bought their freedom. “They stay here and get made official, names splashed in the news as they are identified, or—better yet—disappear entirely, and you can assume their identities, help us flush out even more bastards like them.” He paused in front of the door he knew led into the auction room. “Am I good to enter?”
The pipes rattled again, and he saw the door settle more firmly into the frame, as if something had pushed against it. “Yeah, I just cleared the gas to be sure.”
He steadied his breathing, slowing his heartrate and dialing in the focus he’d need for the next few minutes.
“Owen?” Alace sounded pensive, almost as if she needed reassurance.
He gave it to her. Trust in a word, knowing she’d understand. They were partners, in this together, and he needed to hear her thoughts on how to proceed. Sure he had his preferences, but friends didn’t ride roughshod over their allies. “Yeah?”
When she spoke again, it was no surprise the steel was back in her voice as she echoed his own words back to him in affirmation. “Kill the motherfuckers.”
That was an order he would be happy to act upon. Still, he needed to tweak Alace just the tiniest amount. He gave it a two-beat pause, then sang out, loud and clear, “Yes, ma’am.”
Owen shook himself free from the memories. After first removing the unconscious children from the auction room, he’d left behind an abattoir. It had taken him nearly five hours to organize and carry out the release of the other children and young adults who had been kidnapped and kept for sale. Turning off the fence charges, locating all the necessary keys, digging into storerooms for clothing for the kids—it all took time. Some of them had been
in their cages at that location for weeks, and some had been taken months ago and only moved to the warehouse recently. He’d seen at least two pairs that looked shellshocked, and when he asked found out they’d been kidnapped the previous evening.
Nate had been the first child he’d released. Tony right after. Then he’d watched as those resilient eight- and ten-year-old boys had organized the kids closest to them, keeping everyone calm until he could get them outside.
Only once they were safely installed in a nearby church gymnasium—door efficiently jimmied open for access—had Owen gone back and made five dead men vanish forever. Then he’d torched the warehouse and attached buildings. He and Alace had agreed at every step along the way, and it was freeing to not be the sole decision-maker on the mission. Another thing to make sure I tell Alace.
Finally satisfied the kids were safe and the bad guys dispatched—nerds included—he’d been walking away when he dialed the cops, staying on the line long enough to ensure the dispatcher had their priorities straight: kids over property. That burner had been one he’d tossed into a river five miles away.
Owen rocked back on his heels and lifted his head, staring into the darkness overhead. Stars flickered, showing themselves between the sweeping branches of the pine trees. The weather was perfect, the location even more so, and he didn’t have anything on his schedule for a minimum of eight days.
His time to regroup and recharge and put the scenes from the past few months behind him.
After that, he’d be back out into civilization and would reach out to Alace.
She’d line him up with another mission and he’d gladly go.
Owen closed his eyes, relying on memory to draw in the details of the child’s face. Natalie had been so little. Her brother fierce in his protection of her. Tiny defender of a tinier fighter.
They were both so fragile.
So easily damaged.
Just like his Emma had been.
Epilogue
The old man climbed slowly from the cab of his truck, arching his back as he stretched out from the hours-long drive just concluded. Shame he had to live so far from his playground. He grinned down at the pack flowing around his legs as he walked to the rundown shack straight ahead. The stairs creaked and groaned, and the pack's feet scuffed across the wood of the porch, nails clicking as they surged forwards when he opened the door.
Inside, he steadied the lantern as he opened the access to the wick. A quick flick of his wrist and a sputtering flame appeared at the end of the wooden match held between thumb and finger. Held to the oil-saturated fabric, the wick greedily accepted the flame as it spread across the top edge. He trimmed it, rolling the wick to a height that cast a steady glow around the single room.
Boots toed off, he scolded one of the pack when they threatened to abscond with his footwear. In an instant, the animal’s head dropped low, neck plunging from between slumped shoulders.
“Oh, here now. No need for that.” He crouched and held out a hand, letting the animal approach, claws scraping the wood as it came close. He ran his fingers through the tangled hair on top of its head, smoothing it to one side as the animal leaned into the touch, a seldom-experienced pleasure.
He pushed upright and drew his glance across the pack, seeing a couple that were in poorer physical condition than he liked to keep them. He made a mental reminder to set their food aside, giving them a chance to eat without dealing with the normal scrapping and fighting the pack did at mealtime. They were a sibling pair, and the most recent addition to the pack, something he suspected played into their challenges.
"It takes a while to get used to it, but you'll be fine." He bent over and snapped his fingers, frowning when the male locked gazes aggressively. "Get over here now." Another snap of his fingers called them to him, and he used both hands to smooth and scratch, cradling the female underneath her jaw, holding her in place as he looked her over.
The skin along her back and sides was marred with scrapes from claws, and he saw the distinct marks of teeth imprinted in her flesh. "Oh, honey. You gotta stop fighting." She looked up at him, watery eyes blinking as she trembled in his grip. Her brother shoved between them, pushing her to the side and taking her place at the man's feet. With his square, blunt teeth bared, the male's lips were pulled back in a quiet snarl, his emerald green eyes flashing angrily. He snapped at the man's fingers, coming close to connecting and received a solid thump on his nose for his trouble. The male’s mouth opened wide, and he sucked in a shocked breath.
"Don't touch my sister."
The shout rocked the air in the cabin, casting silence onto the rest of the pack, each of the mix of children and dogs pulling away from the pair, not wanting to get caught up in the confrontation.
"Boy." The man's mouth twisted to the side, his contorted expression revealing the endless pit of rage that always simmered just under the surface, something he never could completely quell. "You shouldn't oughta done that."
~
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING
Seeking Worthy Pursuits!
This story is the second in what will be at least a three book series. I’m so pleased you’ve taken this journey with me and my dark characters, and I hope you enjoyed and rooted for Alace and Owen as much as I did.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Raised in the south, Wall Street Journal & USA TODAY bestselling author MariaLisa learned about the magic of books at an early age. Every summer, she would spend hours in the local library, devouring books of every genre. Self-described as a book-a-holic, she says "I've always loved to read, but then I discovered writing, and found I adored that, too. For reading...if nothing else is available, I've been known to read the back of the cereal box."
Want sneak peeks into what she’s working on, or to chat with other readers about her books? Join the Facebook group! bit.ly/deMora-FB-group
deMora’s got a spam-free newsletter list she’d love to have you join, too: bit.ly/mldemora-newsletter
~~~~~
Also by MariaLisa deMora
Please note that books in a series frequently feature characters from additional books within that series. If series books are read out of order, readers will twig to spoilers for the other books, so going back to read the skipped titles won’t have the same angsty reveals.
Rebel Wayfarers MC series:
Mica, #1
A Sweet & Merry Christmas, #1.5
Slate, #2
Bear, #3
Jase, #4
Gunny, #5
Mason, #6
Hoss, #7
Harddrive Holidays, #7.5
Duck, #8
Biker Chick Campout, #8.5
Watcher, #9
A Kiss to Keep You, #9.25
Gun Totin’ Annie, #9.5
Secret Santa, #9.75
Bones, #10
Gunny’s Pups, #10.25
Never Settle, #10.5
Not Even A Mouse, #10.75
Fury, #11
Christmas Doings, #11.25
Gypsy’s Lady, #11.5
Cassie, #12
Road Runner’s Ride, #12.5
Occupy Yourself band series:
Born Into Trouble, #1
Grace In Motion, #2 (TBD)
What They Say, #3 (TBD)
Neither This, Nor That MC series:
This Is the Route Of Twisted Pain, #1
Treading the Traitor’s Path: Out Bad, #2
Shelter My Heart, #3
Trapped by Fate on Reckless Roads, #4
Thunderstruck, #5
Rebel Wayfarers & Incoherent MC
(NTNT) crossover stories:
Going Down Easy
No Man’s Land
Mayhan Bucklers MC series:
Most Rikki-Tik, #1
Mad Minute, #2
Pucker Factor, #3
Boocoo Dinky Dau, #4 (TBD)
Borderline Freaks MC series:
Service and Sacrifice, #1
More Than Enough, #2
/> Lack of In-between, #3
See You in Valhalla, #4
If You Could Change One Thing:
Tangled Fates Stories
There Are Limits, #1
Rules Are Rules, #2
The Gray Zone, #3
With My Whole Heart series
With My Whole Heart, #1
Bet On Us, #2
Alace Sweets series
Alace Sweets, #1
Seeking Worthy Pursuits, #2
An Embarrassment of Monsters, #3
Other Books:
Hard Focus
Dirty Bitches MC: Season 3
More information available at mldemora.com.
Seeking Worthy Pursuits: A Dark Romantic Suspense Novel (Alace Sweets Book 2) Page 26
