“Well, Colonel Sanders, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” I deadpanned. “I’ll be sure to mention that before my father breaks your neck. Maybe he’ll kill you faster, rather than make you suffer.”
“I’m surprised you’re waiting for Daddy to come rescue you, I would have thought you’d be hoping for Prince Sparky to come riding in.”
I shuddered.
“Oh, he and I just had the loveliest conversation the other evening. He seems the ever so hero type. Too bad he’s miles away and has no idea where we are.”
“If Devon and Hatch don’t find you today, they’ll look for you tomorrow and every tomorrow after that. No matter what, you’re gonna end up with a bullet in your head.”
He dropped his head back and laughed. The fucker actually laughed. “Oh, you are a hoot, young Poppy! We could have had so much fun... it’s a shame your usefulness will soon be over.”
I wasn’t sure why, but this man terrified me.
Curly irritated me, even though he was kind of scary, but Colonel Sanders here, was a completely different kind of bad guy, and I had to figure out a way to run.
“I see your intention in your expression, young Poppy, but don’t bother. There’s nowhere for you to go.”
My dry throat closed up on me and I licked my lips several times to try and calm the fear.
“Get her some water,” Colonel Fuckface ordered, and a cold bottle was shoved into my hands.
I rinsed my mouth out, spitting on the ground again, and then swallowing down the rest. It helped. Sort of.
What I was was hungry. I’d had breakfast, but nothing more, and I could tell it was late afternoon because the day was sweltering. Plus, considering I’d just puked up breakfast, I was starting to feel a little hangry.
At least the hunger distracted me a little from the fear.
“Show time,” Sanders said, and Curly’s hand gripped my arm again.
“You gonna behave, or do I have to chain you?” I scowled up at him and he grinned. “Handcuffs it is.”
“Asshole.”
Without further comment, he shackled me, but I was grateful he cuffed my hands in front of me, rather than behind. It gave me more range of motion and I planned to use it the second I could.
* * *
Hatch
I glanced down at my phone currently blowing up and scowled. “Fuck!”
“What?” Doom asked.
“Give me a sec.” I dialed Maisie and she answered on the first ring.
“Curly’s taken Poppy.”
“What the fuck?”
“I got a call from Willow. Gator’s on the warpath because Curly and Roach are working with the Dixie Mafia, and have taken Poppy somewhere.”
“Goddammit!”
Curly and I had been recruits together, and we’d only had one major fight the entire time I knew him. The fight was over my ex-wife, and I wished to god I’d let him have her. She was a lying whore of a woman who tried her best to ruin me.
Apparently, Curly still held a grudge.
Maisie was sobbing now. “Hatch, you have to find her.”
“I will, baby. Stay by the phone.”
“Okay,” she rasped, and hung up.
“What’s up?” Doom asked from his place, hunkered behind a seawall.
“Curly’s the mole. Sounds like he’s got Roach with him too.”
Doom rose to his feet. “What the fuck?”
“He’s got Poppy,” I said distractedly as I dialed Booker’s number.
“Hey, man.”
“Find Curly,” I ordered. “I want to know everything about that asshole, including his exact location. He’s got Poppy.”
“Fuck. I’m on it.”
Booker hung up and I texted Doc. I debated texting Devon... if he was distracted, everything could go to shit, but if it was me and Maisie was taken, I’d want to know.
Before I could debate further, Doc responded: We know about Curly. Keep Sparky out of it for now.
“The fuck?” I snapped, and glared at Doom. “Did you know about Curly?”
He shook his head. “No way, man. If I did, he wouldn’t be walkin’.”
“Goddammit!” I dialed Gator, my blood boiling as I waited for him to pick up.
“I don’t know nothin’.”
“You fuckin’ know somethin’, old man, so you better start talkin’,” I ground out.
“All I know is Curly took Poppy somewhere. I figured he was the mole, that’s all I know,” Gator said.
“You keepin’ Willow locked down?”
“Fuck yeah, I’m keepin’ Willow locked down,” he snapped. “Gonna have a conversation with her about keepin’ her goddamn mouth shut, too.”
I dragged a hand down my face. “Damage is done, Gate. We can address that shit when I get my girl back, yeah? Go easy on Willow.”
“You deal with your kin, I’ll deal with mine.”
I sighed. “Yeah, man, I hear ya.”
Gator hung up and I hit the tracker app on my phone. Poppy’s phone wasn’t on, and the last time it was on was about a mile away from the compound (in the middle of the freeway). Which means, Curly must have destroyed it.
“Fuck!” I snapped just as my phone buzzed. It was Booker. “What did you find?”
“Curly’s about a mile from the harbor. He’s headed right for you.”
“Okay, man, we’ll be ready.”
I hung up and gathered the Dogs around, filling them in, including Agent Dalton Moore. Dalton spoke into his sleeve, giving the two sharpshooters on the roof further instructions.
I jabbed a finger toward the agent. “Curly’s mine. I kill the mother fucker. No one else.”
“Not gonna let you kill a man, Hatch,” Dalton said.
“If it comes down to it, I will end him to protect my daughter, hear me?”
“It won’t come to that,” Dalton said.
I kind of wished it would. I desperately wanted to get my hands around the asshole’s neck. I sent Doc a text, filling him in on the plan, meaning he and the rest of the guys were on their own for a bit.
“Incoming,” crackled over Dalton’s radio and I moved toward the entrance of the docks, but Dalton laid his hand on my shoulder. “Let’s wait and see what we’re dealin’ with.”
“Fuck that,” I snapped.
“At least stay out of sight.”
I gave him a nod, but if Poppy was hurt, I wasn’t promisin’ anything.
* * *
Devon
We stood with guns drawn before agent Kahler gave his final instructions, “Don’t make a move without me, stay close, and don’t discharge your weapon unless you absolutely have to.”
I nodded, and we made our way down the narrow corridor leading to the stairwell. I was right behind him, watching our six, as we climbed the stairs toward an open hatch leading to the ship’s upper deck. As soon as we reached the top of the stairs, two gunshots hit the deck, inches away from the hatch. Kahler immediately returned fire on the shooter, whom I couldn’t see due to my position.
The shots from agent Kahler’s Glock were nearly deafening within the confines of our steel enclosure, and my ears were suddenly ringing at a volume level I’d never experienced. I’d spent my entire life around loud exhaust pipes, bar bands, and plenty of guns, but the sonic impact of those shots was far more brutal than anything my eardrums had encountered up to this point.
“Ah, fuck!” I doubled over in pain, my hands now tightly cupped around my ears.
“Are you okay?” I could barely make out Kahler’s muffled words over the din of gunfire and the unrelenting banshee scream in my skull. “Are you hit?” he yelled.
“No!” I yelled back. Agent Kahler nodded before fully popping out of the hatch and firing off two more rounds.
After a few tense moments, Kahler took a step back into the stairwell. “Okay, he’s down. It looks like we’re clear. I’m betting the last guard is with the girls.”
I was doing my best to read his lips, as
he was no longer shouting, making it difficult to make out his words. “Stick close to me,” he said before leading us onto the deck.
We made our way to the area where the containers were stacked. The Iolanta was not very large as far as commercial shipping vessels were concerned and this cargo load was light even for a ship of this size. There was only a dozen or so containers in total, and we easily spotted number nineteen, located just were captain Vasili said it would be. Likewise, there was an armed guard standing directly in front of it, just as agent Kahler predicted. We crouched down behind a row of barrels, located about twenty-five feet from the container.
“There’s the last guard. You stay right here and I’m going to go take him out. When I’m sure the coast is clear, I’ll signal you and we’ll get the girls out of there.”
Once again, I nodded in compliance, and agent Kahler disappeared into a dark alley between two containers. The ringing in my ears, combined with the constant motion of the choppy seas, was starting to take its toll. My head was on fire, and the pounding of my heart was drowning out what little I could still hear. It took every ounce of concentration I had to stay focused on the remaining guard, who was standing directly in front of the container’s entrance with his back to the door. His thin frame, armed with an AK-47 assault rifle, stood motionless as he manned his post.
From out of the darkness, I could see agent Kahler slowly approaching the guard who seemed totally unaware of his presence. Just as he reached the guard, a single shot rang out, immediately dropping agent Kahler to the deck.
I held my position and focused on the area where I believed the shot came from; an elevated platform that housed the ship’s crane. I could now see a large gunman with a rifle slung over his shoulder, rapidly climbing down the side of the platform via a metal ladder. I stood up, and before thinking, fired off three rounds, hitting the target, causing him to fall with a thud loud enough for me to hear it.
I then pointed my gun directly at the posted guard, who dropped his AK-47 immediately and raised his hands high in the air. “Don’t shoot... I’m mechanic... I’m Bogdan... I work ship... I’m mechanic!” he shouted in broken English.
He wore grey overalls that were covered in engine grease. Besides the normal stains one would expect, I could clearly see that Bogdan had pissed himself. This mild-mannered ship’s mechanic had obviously been used as a decoy, and it worked.
“Get over there!” I ordered, and motioned him away from the container door. I kicked the assault rifle well out of reach and kept my gun directly on Bogdan. I wasn’t about to take any chances. “Agent Kahler!” I shouted as I moved toward where he was still on his side. I rolled him over and he let out a gasp before clutching at his right shin.
“Motherfucker!” he bellowed, wincing in pain, before his eyes rolled back into his head.
“Don’t pass out,” I said before removing my belt with one right hand, while keeping Bogdan covered with the other. He didn’t seem like a threat, but for all I knew our mechanic friend was playing possum; or whatever the Russian version of possum is.
I made a tourniquet from my belt, which I tightened just below the knee. His lower leg was powdered. The bullet had torn through the flesh and bone with ease, doing maximum damage along the way, and he hissed in pain as I tightened it for a final time.
“Kahler, listen to me. I’m gonna leave you here, just for a minute or two. I have to go find the shooter. I hit him and he went down, but I don’t know if he’s dead.”
“My weapon,” he said and pointed, still fighting to stay lucid. I picked up the gun he had dropped when he was shot, and placed it in his hand.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, and headed for the foot of the crane platform, where the shooter had fallen. However, when I arrived there was only a small pool of blood, where I’d hoped to find a dead bad guy.
“Shit,” I rasped and headed back to where I’d left agent Kahler. As I approached, I could see he was no longer alone. Slowly limping toward him was the shooter, gun in hand, covered in blood. I raised my gun and fired a shot, narrowly missing him, but causing him to turn around and face me. Once he did, agent Kahler put a round directly in the back of his head, ending the shooter’s life in a puff of pink mist.
I spun around to see Bogdan standing, arms still in the air, motioning frantically to the container.
“Devochki! Devochki!” He shouted. “Devochki... the girls!”
I could see he was not motioning to the door, but to the dual digital security panels, which were now flashing red and beeping.
“What is that? What does that beeping mean?”
“Vzryv!” he exclaimed, struggling to find the English word, finally shouting, “Boom!”
These sick bastards had rigged explosives to the container and the guard must have triggered it.
“He had a dead man switch!” Agent Kahler called out, pointing to the guard’s lifeless body. I could see the switch in his hand, which was released when Kahler shot him.
“Shit!” I moved immediately to the right control panel and could see numbers counting down; :17... :16... :15... I quickly began entering in the code given to us by the captain, as Bogdan frantically called out once again.
“Niet! No!” he shouted as he ran to the left panel. “Oдhobpеmеhho,” he said struggling to find the English words. “Must be... same time.” He rapidly pointed between the two panels.
There must have been a failsafe and Bogdan, the kindly mechanic, was clearly trying to warn me and help save the girls. Either that, or this was a trick and I was about to cause the premature end of many innocent lives. And possibly mine.
I looked at him and nodded as we began to punch the respective codes in, one digit at a time, in tandem, as the time clock stopped at :06. The beeping stopped, both panels glowed green, and I could hear the internal locking mechanism disengage. Bogdan smiled wide as I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Help me get these open,” I said, and he happily complied.
The afternoon sunlight poured into the container, causing its inhabitants to shield their eyes and whimper. They’d been captives for weeks, and who knew the last time they were let out of this mass jail cell. From the smell of things, it had been awhile. There appeared to be over twenty young Russian girls, all in their late teens and early twenties, most of which were frantically crying. There’s no telling what horrible fate they must have been expecting, and they certainly had no idea I was a friendly face. For all they knew, I was a buyer, a pimp, or God knows what else.
Bogdan began speaking to them in Russian and their cries became even louder and more intense, causing a brief moment of concern on my part, until I realized these were now cries of joy. The girls, who were all frail, filthy, and obviously in shock, began to hug and kiss us we led them out onto the ship’s deck.
Bogdan began to call out a single name, “Kira!” as he searched through the group. A beautiful, raven haired young woman emerged from the crowd and embraced Bogdan, who broke down in heavy sobs.
After a few moments, he turned to me and said, “My sister, Kira,” before embracing me, repeating “Thank you,” over and over.
After making sure the girls were okay, I ran back to agent Kahler, who wasn’t looking good at all. I pulled out my phone to call Doc, but before I could, he was directly behind me, followed by Alamo.
“We heard the shots, and then the girls screaming, so we figured you’d either done your job, or you were dead. Seemed like a good time to find out,” Doc said as he bent down to examine his latest patient. “What the fuck happened?” he asked agent Kahler.
“Some Russian prick with a really big gun, put a really big bullet through his leg,” I provided, since Kahler passed out cold before he could answer.
Doc took the opportunity to shoot him with morphine, and examine the wound. “You did a good job with this tourniquet, Sparky,” he said. “You likely prevented him from bleeding out. Miraculously, the bullet missed the anterior tibial artery, but it shattered the
tibia and shredded most of the tissue around it. I need to check on the girls and see if anyone needs medical attention, but first help me move agent Kahler to the wheelhouse. I want to keep an eye on him while we’re driving back to port. We’re running out of time, and if we don’t get this boat to the harbor soon, Harlan is going to know something’s wrong. We still have a lot of work to do, and now we’re one man down,” Doc said.
“Actually.” I smiled wide. “I think we may be a few soldiers up.”
Poppy
Ohmigod, I was going to puke again. I was currently hooded, handcuffed, and belted into a car... an SUV, I think... and it was hauling ass to wherever Curly was taking me. But I couldn’t watch the road, ergo, I was horribly nauseated.
Before I could warn my captors of my condition, however, we stopped moving and I was hauled out of the vehicle, losing my balance slightly as I was set on my feet. As soon as the hood was removed, I pitched forward and puked all over the ground... and someone’s boots.
“Goddammit!” Curly growled, gripping my arms.
I leaned to my right and wiped my mouth on the sleeve of his shirt, earning a howl of, “You stupid bitch!”
“My day is complete,” I sneered.
He growled again and shoved me aside, which gave me space, which meant I took the advantage and made a run for it. The problem was I didn’t know where the hell I was, and my middle hurt from where Roach grabbed me earlier, so my run was more of a gasping limp as I rushed away from the car... and straight into a fist.
Then black.
* * *
“... goddamn motherfuckin’ idiot!” I heard Curly yell as I started to come to. “Why the fuck did you hit her?”
“She was runnin’!” Roach said as strong arms lifted me.
I played dead, not wanting anyone to know I was awake yet. This proved harder than expected, because whoever was holding me had me over his shoulder and it was spiked into the very sore part of my belly, cutting off my air.
“What happened to young Poppy?” Harlan’s deep, southern voice asked, lethally.
“She tried to run,” Roach said, and I was set gently on the ground.
“I gave you strict instructions not to harm her. Why was this not obeyed?”
The Longing (Dogs of Fire: Wolfpack, #2) Page 16
