Ignite

by Holly S. Roberts

  “You’re incorrigible,” she returns while fighting a smile. The edges of her lips pull up before she remembers to act stern. “I’ll pass until you’re back to your old puny self and can put up a decent fight.”

  I grin and wink. “I like a challenge. You’re getting better, but I can still kick your ass with one hand tied behind my back.”

  “One hand tied behind your back? Deal. We’ll try that when you return to full strength.”

  I can only shake my head. She’s like a Chihuahua thinking it’s a Pitbull with jaws locked on a hambone. Gomez won’t spar with her because he doesn’t want to hurt her. I don’t enjoy hurting her either, but if you live in our world, you need to accept pain and work through it. She improves each week and refuses to give up. She’s gained my respect.

  Loud girly music fills the room and Celina hits the treadmill. I head to my bedroom for a shower. Yeah, Santos told me to keep the stitches dry. Doesn’t matter, I need a shower; I do the best I can to keep the spray directly off the wound. I smear on the foul-smelling goo Santos gave me and wrap more dressing around my chest after I’m out of the shower. Just as I’m pulling a clean T-shirt over my head, a text comes through on my cell.

  I stride over and peer down at the message alert. Not a number I recognize. Picking up the phone, I enter my access code and read the text.

  “Fuck,” I whisper into the quiet room. “Double fuck,” I swear louder.

  It’s Beth, Nick’s sister. She’s in trouble. I know exactly who Angelo Gimonde is. How Beth got mixed up with him is beyond me. I enter Westly Ranch, Camp Springs, Montana into my cell phone’s browser. It pops up and gives me an address. I’m more than twenty hours away by car, which sucks because I don’t know if she has twenty hours.

  Angelo Gimonde’s father is the head of Chicago’s largest crime syndicate. Angelo killed the daughter of another mob boss a little over a year ago and then disappeared. I’d hoped their rival organization, the Laterza family, had taken him out. Hiding in bum fuck Montana is most likely the only thing that kept him alive.

  When I returned stateside after Nick’s death, I went to Montana and checked up on Beth. It was the coldest place on earth as far as I was concerned. Living in Phoenix makes any temperature below sixty an extreme. Beth was devastated over the loss of her brother, but she was planning her wedding and starting a new chapter in her life.

  Her strength didn’t surprise me. Nick was the strongest son of a bitch I ever met and he saved my life more than once. I promised to look after his baby sister if anything happened to him. Nick was there when I got news that my brother Andrew died. I could have taken the first plane home, but instead I went out with my squad and we encountered enemy fighters. Nick took a bullet to the leg, which he could have survived. He grabbed my hand before medics took him away. “Don’t forget your promise to look after Beth,” he said.

  “Yeah, yeah, you pussy, it’s nothing but a scratch and you’ll be back kicking ass in a few days,” I told him. Minutes later, an IED struck the med transport and Nick died instantly.

  I stayed in Afghanistan and took my rage out on insurgents before I went home. I missed my brother’s funeral and Nick’s. It was better that way. In the weeks after their deaths I wasn’t fit for anything but killing.

  Visiting Nick’s sister was hard and made harder by the fact she didn’t hold me responsible for his death. Didn’t change the fact that I was responsible. I was there and should have taken the bullet that put Nick on the transport. It’s as simple as that.

  I didn’t care for Beth’s fiancé, but she loved him and that’s all that mattered. So how the hell is she involved with Angelo Gimonde?

  I pack a small bag with a few changes of clothes and write a note to Gomez. I drop it off in the security room, where I fill a larger bag with firepower.

  “You want me to give this to Gomez when he returns?” Cal asks while he watches me fill the munitions bag with a little of everything.

  “That’s exactly what I want. He’ll understand after he reads it.” Gomez will understand immediately. Moon and his organization cannot be involved in what I’m about to do. There’s no love lost between Moon, the Gimonde family, and the Laterza family. The problem: as big as Moon’s organization is now he’s still not in the same league as East Coast mafia. Moon’s smart enough to know that and so is Gomez. I need to do this alone and get Beth the hell out of Angelo’s hands before he strangles her like he did the last woman.

  An airplane is out of the mix without Moon’s authorization. I’m taking my personal Jeep and praying Moon isn’t linked to what I’m about to do. Killing Angelo will bring the heat down on my back, but I don’t care. No one messes with Nick’s little sister.

  Chapter Four

  From: Nick.Hoffman@us.gov.org

  To: Beth.Hoffman@mymail.com

  Dear Burpie,

  Yeah, you hate that name too. I remember holding you on my shoulder and you vomiting milk down my back and ruining my favorite chick magnet T-shirt. Doesn’t matter that I was nine, the chicks loved that shirt. It’s funny how those memories are so important here. War sucks and the only thing keeping my head on straight are thoughts of you and talking to Rack. You know, the guy I want you to marry? The only guy who can protect you from your crazy self and make you happy. I think he’s half in love with you from the stories I tell him about your wild ways. He also loves talking about his family. He has four brothers and awesome parents. For such a badass, he’s a family man. When we’re out of this hellhole you’ll meet him and understand.

  Your chick magnet brother,

  Nick

  ****

  Beth

  ANGELO PACES IN FRONT of me fisting his hands slowly, and a pulse ticks beside his eye. I never take my gaze off him. If he hits me, I want to see it coming and protect the baby. The severe beatings stopped once the pregnancy showed, but Angelo still has no problem striking my face. I don’t want to fall if it happens.

  “You are to stay out of the men’s rooms. You don’t want to see what I do to them if you go into one again.”

  Of course he knows the threat against his men is far too real to me. I was a blubbering fool months ago when he pulled me from the room with the man he killed. “I’m sorry,” I say meekly. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be able to take walks and I didn’t want to miss one due to the weather. It was foolish of me.”

  He studies me, his face growing redder with anger. Act meek, act meek, I say inside my head. I can’t allow a spark of rebellion to show. Angelo believes he can read a person by the look in their eyes. I’ve become very good at hiding how I truly feel.

  “You won’t need something warmer regardless of the weather. You’re confined to the house until my son is born,” he says flatly.

  My hand trembles as I bring it to my stomach. I’m doing everything I can to keep from crying in front of him. He loves my tears and gains satisfaction from my fear. I don’t bother arguing, I just rub my belly and accept the punishment.

  “If you need exercise, I would think walking through the house would be enough.” His look of disgust says far more than his biting words. He hasn’t touched me since my belly grew round. I thank God for it every day. He brings women to the house and struts them in front of me. He’s so arrogant he thinks I care.

  I hate him.

  I want him to die.

  I won’t give up, and when the time is right, I’ll fight him until there is no breath left in my body. Hoffmans do not go gentle into that good night.

  My brother’s loss hits me again. He fought to the very end and I will do the same. I miss him so much. He would have killed Angelo. Imagining the death of my baby’s father makes me a wicked person, but I don’t care. There is no way my child can grow up with this monster.

  I need Rack to help me out of this mess. I can only hope he researches Angelo before he charges in. If he charges in. A thought flashes through my brain—he could have a new phone number by now. “May I be excused so I may lie down?�
�� I ask softly.

  Angelo waves me away and turns his back.

  I walk slowly to my room trying not to panic. What if I dialed a number that now belongs to someone else and that person texts back? I inhale deeply. I need to stop borrowing trouble. If I keep this level of anxiety up, I’ll deliver the baby a month early. Calm and controlled, I remind myself.

  ****

  Dinner is a nightmare. Angelo has two lady friends joining him tonight. He doesn’t bother introducing me. He fawns over the women and they laugh at his sexually inappropriate jokes. I ignore their curious looks. I’m accustomed to Angelo’s behavior. At first I thought he was trying to make me jealous. That’s not it, though. I’m a possession and he wants me to know he controls every aspect of my life. He would kill these women without a thought and enjoy it.

  The dining room, like the rest of the ranch house, is a glamorous facade to hide the evil that lurks inside. The light fixture hanging over the long, black, lacquered table is worth more than I made in a year as a secretary.

  I cut off the thoughts of my other life and stare down at my plate. I’m always hungry and even with the dreadful company, I eat every tasteless bite. With a disgusted glance at my empty plate, Angelo dismisses me from the room. I can’t get out quick enough. One of the women was on her knees giving Angelo a blow job while we ate. The slurps made it hard to keep the food down.

  I close my bedroom door behind me and hold back a scream. I’m too close to the edge tonight and I’m barely functioning. I wash up in the bathroom, hating the decor that gives the entire ranch a lifeless quality. Black and white with crystal accents throughout the entire home almost take away my ability to breathe. I crawl into bed. It’s only a little after seven but I’m exhausted. I rest my hand on my belly. The baby rolls and I smile sadly, holding back tears that never seem to end.

  “I’m sorry you won’t have a father,” I whisper into the dark room. “I’ll be everything you need, I promise.”

  The baby settles down and I try to fall asleep even knowing I’ll be up in a few hours to pee. My sleepy brain flitters to Rack and the day I met him. He stood too close, he smelled too good, and his haunted eyes went clear to my soul. Will he even want to help me? I can’t stop the tears that slip silently down my face and soak the pillow.

  I desperately need help or I wouldn’t have called him and placed him in danger. How do I live with myself if he comes after me and something happens to him? Eventually I fall into an exhausted sleep.

  Chapter Five

  Rack

  THE FIREPOWER I HAVE in the Jeep forces me to abide by speed laws. I push it when I can, long desolate roads where I can see car lights in the distance. I pull over twice and doze for thirty minutes having learned the art of catnapping in the military. It keeps me alert. About fifteen hours into the trip, the weather takes a drastic turn. I hate the fucking cold and my thin Arizona blood isn’t happy. I’m in jeans and a light cotton T-shirt. My flak jacket is in the trunk. It has no sleeves but the Kevlar will help keep me warm when I put it on. For now, the Jeep’s heater does the trick.

  I try to mentally block the pain from my wound. The stitches pull and even with the shitload of antibiotics shot into me, it feels like my side is on fire. I’ve survived worse injuries and continued fighting—this is no different. It’s better to dwell on the chill in the air. I’m a complete pussy when it comes to the cold.

  Rain hits at the Montana state line. Camp Springs is two hours northeast of Billings. The rain continues in a steady downpour. The landscape changes to denser trees as I drive into the higher elevation. I honestly haven’t concentrated much on my surroundings until now. I’m thirty minutes from Beth’s location. I’ve spent twenty something hours thinking of her and running endless scenarios through my head, so I’m ready for all situations during her extraction.

  Beth. I see her through her brother’s eyes. During my final tour of Afghanistan, where I met Nick, there were long hours with nothing to do. We were always tense in between missions wanting the fight and hating the wait. We talked. Some men spoke about their sweethearts or wives. I talked about my brothers and parents. Nick talked about his baby sister. He essentially raised her alone because of his mother’s illness. His pride came through in every word. I was never much for laughter. That changed when Nick told stories about Beth’s escapades. He would wrap me in his memories and I would swear they were almost my own. I come from a close family and having someone with their own deep ties to a sibling made me feel at home. Nick’s memories of Beth easily flow through my mind in between the loose plan I’ve come up with to rescue her.

  First, I need to scout the property. The satellite images were good but nothing replaces eyes on the target. Before I head in guns blazing, I need proof of life. If Beth isn’t alive, I’ll blow the entire fucking ranch up and kill everyone but Angelo. The thought of Angelo touching Beth has me gripping the steering wheel until my knuckles turn blue. If he’s hurt her or God forbid killed her, his death will be slow and painful. I’ll keep the fucker alive for weeks peeling the skin from his bones, strip by bloody strip.

  I turn off the main road fifteen minutes away and find a good spot to hide the Jeep. The dense foliage will keep it hidden from most eyes. There are about six hours of daylight remaining. I’m heading in as soon as it’s dark. I eat two protein bars and down a bottle of water before slipping low in the seat and closing my eyes. The temperature drops without the Jeep’s heater. There’s a Mylar emergency blanket packaged in a pocket of the flak jacket but I don’t bother with it. I can take the cold. I can, I will myself while shivering into needed sleep.

  ****

  Five hours later, I load the flak jacket with everything from C4 to hand grenades. My gear belt holds two handguns with another strapped to my ankle. I carry six magazines of extra ammo for the handguns and four extended mags for the M27, which I sling over my shoulder.

  When the sun disappears, I head through the soggy forest terrain and try to ignore the temperature drop. It’s summer for fuck’s sake. There’s a light drizzle and even with gloves my hands are freezing. I’m taking Beth to a warmer climate whether she wants it or not. I’ll slay dragons for her as long as they’re closer to the southern hemisphere. I start a slow jog and my body heats. I clear my mind of everything but my objective and go into survival mode.

  The trees thin and I notice lights over the next ridge. I crawl up the hill and look down into a large valley. The ranch house is in the center of the cleared property. No cover. Using binoculars, I zero in on outside cameras. I’ll need to take the power out. Chances are good they have a backup generator, but it will take time to start. Everything needs to be timed perfectly. There’s a barn that I can place explosives in and detonate with my phone. For Beth, I’m willing to sacrifice any animals. This is my only shot at getting her out alive. I turn the binoculars to the upstairs windows looking for a sign of her. Ten minutes pass and still nothing.

  The ranch house isn’t huge but knowing her general location will increase the chance of reaching her and getting her out safely. There are three upstairs windows. Two have open curtains and one drawn. There’s a balcony off one of the rooms with double doors. My guess is it’s the master suite. That’s where I’m going in. Now I just need to stay alive and not freeze to death over the next few hours.

  Monitoring the windows for Beth helps keep my mind off the cold. I’ve been in worse situations but truthfully a hot bed of coals would be more pleasant to lie on. My pants and shirt are soaked from the rain and my body temperature is dropping.

  I watch two guards make rounds. Some very bad men want Angelo dead. He’s playing it safe. Not safe enough, however. Two hours later, I catch movement from the bedroom with the pulled curtain. Come on, Beth, let me know you’re there and okay. My silent prayer is answered when the covering moves aside and she peers out for a few seconds. It’s only a flash, but I would recognize the outline of her face anywhere. I still have the picture of her that her brother kept in his w
allet. It survived the blast that took him out and I’ve kept it all this time.

  An hour later, I head to the powerline pole that provides electricity to the ranch. I climb the pegs in the wood utility pole and place a leg over the cross beam. I need to be above the cable I cut so it falls free and doesn’t hit me. I feel around the flak jacket for a small hand-grip cable cutter located in a back pocket. The only positive right now is that the rain stopped about thirty minutes ago. I place my hands on the rubber guard of the cutters and start working the cable coming from the transformer. The electrical current from the transformer is lower voltage and there’s less chance of electrocution if I’m hit. The 240 volts will knock me off the wire and most likely culminate in a broken neck. When the cable snaps, a few sparks fly as it drops to the ground and the power goes out. I shimmy down the pole thankful for the gloves. I flip the night goggles over my eyes and start running. My destination is the barn. I make it to the side of the aluminum structure and stop to listen. I hear voices from the direction of the house. I slide around the side of the barn and check the door. It’s unlocked and I slip inside. I remove the goggles and pull out a small flashlight with a red light setting that gives off a muted glow. There are two vehicles inside. A truck is outside, which I’ll take care of after I’ve wired the barn. I work quickly and secure the C4 to the vehicles. I place a small detonator that I can control remotely with an app on my cell phone—the shit you can do with technology these days is unreal.

  I work under the vehicles in case someone enters the barn. When I’m done, I check outside. I hear the generator, but it’s controlling only about half the power required to light up the house. The truck is twenty yards away. I’m about to make a run for it, when two men walk outside.

  “Check the power pole. The transformer probably blew. I’ve called the power company,” one of the men says to the other.