by CJ Bishop
“I’ve got a new home for you.”
Jules and Reuben picked up on the change of atmosphere and were suddenly ready to leave. “Come on, Noah.” Jules tugged at the hem of his jacket. “I wanna go home. I’m cold.”
Tears slid down Noah’s face. What do I do? Oh God—what do I do?
“Don’t you boys want those presents?” the man asked lightly, keeping the weapon out of view of the little boys.
Jules shook his head and grabbed Reuben’s hand while he held onto Noah’s jacket with his other. “No. We’re going home. We have enough presents.”
“Well, I’m sorry, boys,” the man murmured. “But you’re not going home-”
“Yes, we are!” Noah cried and kicked the man in the balls then wrenched free of his grasp as the man swore sharply and dropped to his knees, gasping.
“Run!” Noah grabbed up Jules while Noel scooped Reuben into his arms and they took off across the park, their feet slipping on the frozen grass. Noah’s leg slowed him down a little, but he ignored the pain and ran harder. “Come on!”
“Boys!”
Noah’s head snapped up and relief shot through him when he spotted Axel and Cory running their way. “Axel!” Noah screamed.
Behind them on the playground, the man cursed and scrambled to his feet, ignoring his own pain, and took off for his car at a dead run.
As soon as Axel neared, Noah and Noel plowed into him, clutching him, shaking and in tears. Cory swept past them in full pursuit, closing in on the fleeing man. The boys watched wide-eyed as the man raced around the car, jerked open the driver door—and Cory slid across the hood like in a movie and wrenched the door out of the man’s hand and grabbed him by the back of the neck, yanking him out of the car as he tried to scramble inside.
“Motherfucker!” Cory smashed his face against the roof of the car a couple times, then punched him a few more times. “You come into our neighborhood and hunt our kids? You just signed your fucking death warrant, motherfucker!” Cory slammed the car door on the man’s head, knocking him out cold.
Standing beside a stunned Noah, clutching Axel…Noel blinked. “Whoa.”
Noah’s sentiments exactly.
Chapter 2
“You boys wait here.” Axel left the kids and jogged over to the car. Cory popped the trunk and Axel helped him dump the unconscious man inside. The car had been parked back away from the main street that passed in front of the park and was shielded by a few trees. “What’re we going to do with him?”
Cory shook his head. “Not we. You take the boys home, and I’ll take this fucker to Clint and the others.”
“The boys can stay with Kane,” Axel said. “I’m going with you.”
“No, you’re not,” Cory replied simply and closed the trunk.
“You can’t expect me to just stand back and do nothing,” Axel returned tightly. “That fucker came after our kids.”
“And now, you stay with the kids,” Cory said. “That’s not nothing.”
Axel’s throat pinched, his jaw clenching. “I have every right to be a part of this. Just as much as you or Clint or Cochise. And you damn well know it.”
Cory sighed. “Maybe you do,” he conceded. “But Clint doesn’t want you to be a part of it. He is trying to keep you separated from the gangster world as much as possible. And you know why.”
“I do know why,” Axel admitted. “But the reality is—it isn’t possible. That world is a part of him, and that means it’s a part of me, too. He can’t shield me the rest of my life. I don’t need him to.”
Exhaling hard, Cory opened the driver door of the stranger’s car. “Then talk it over with Clint. If I bring you into this, he’ll kick my ass. So, for now, just stay with the kids.”
“Cory…” Axel started, but Cory was already in the car and closing the door. Axel swore and retreated around the front of the vehicle and stepped up on the curb as the car pulled away and drove off. Axel watched until it turned a corner and disappeared from view. He returned to the kids.
“Who was that guy?” Noah asked fearfully. Dampness lingered in his eyes. “What was he going to do with us?”
Axel suspected the boy knew—or at least had a good idea. “It doesn’t matter now,” he murmured. “He won’t be coming around here anymore.” He looked at each of the boys and they stared back at him, quiet tremors shuddering through the twins. Jules and Reuben were too young to understand what had almost happened to them, but the twins weren’t. “Are you boys okay?” Axel asked thickly.
Tears formed in Noah’s eyes. “I was so scared,” he whispered. “I-I didn’t know what to do. He grabbed me and…and wouldn’t let go.”
Axel frowned. “How did you get loose?”
“He kicked him in the cajones,” Jules piped up proudly.
Axel and the twins stared at him in mild shock, then burst out laughing. Jules and Reuben giggled. Axel looked at Noah. “You did? Really?”
The boy nodded.
“Kicked him hard,” Noel smiled, his own pride in his brother shining through. His smile morphed into a mischievous grin. “Wait till Chris hears how you saved us.”
Heat flushed Noah’s cheeks and Axel chuckled. “Yeah, he’ll be all kinds of impressed. As he should be.” Axel hugged the boy hard and kissed his head. “I know I am.”
Noah raised his head, his face reddened with embarrassment and the chilled air. “Can we go home now?”
“Yeah,” Axel smiled and draped his arm across Noah’s shoulders. The boy leaned on him a bit as they headed for the sidewalk, his limp more pronounced than usual.
“I was so relieved when I saw you and Cory,” Noah whispered with a tremor. “I-I didn’t know if we would get away. The man had a gun.”
“He wouldn’t have used it out in the open like that,” Axel assured. “And he would’ve been too conspicuous if he’d started chasing you.” He hugged him. “You would’ve gotten away.”
Noel zipped his jacket up to his chin and stuffed his hands in his pocket. “Cory was awesome,” he grinned. “He was like one of those guys in the movies, sliding across the hood like that.”
Axel chuckled. “Yeah, he was pretty awesome, wasn’t he?”
“Can you do that?” Noel asked.
“Me?” Axel laughed softly. “I don’t know. I’ve never tried.”
“But you can kick ass, right?” Noah looked up at him. “Like Cory and Clint?”
Axel nodded slowly and smiled. “I can hold my own. But only because Cory taught me.”
“Can we learn to fight?” Noel asked.
“Why do you want to fight?”
“I don’t want to fight,” Noel said. “But it’s good to know how to fight, isn’t it? Just in case?”
“Yeah,” Axel said. “It is. But you’d have to get Abel and Devlin’s permission first.”
Noah was quiet during their conversation, offering no input.
“Would you want to learn to fight?” Axel asked Noah. “Not that you did too bad today. You got the job done.”
Noah shrugged and mumbled, “I don’t know how much I could do with my bad leg.”
“If you can kick a man in the cajones and stay on your feet,” Axel smiled. “Then that leg isn’t so bad off that you can’t learn some skilled moves. And besides, Devlin is hopeful an operation might fix it, isn’t he?”
Noah nodded.
“We’ll see what the doc has to say,” Axel said. “If we take it easy and you don’t push yourself too hard to start with, I’m sure you could learn some mean skills even before the operation.”
Noah glanced at his brother and smiled. “That would be cool.”
“Yeah,” Noel grinned. “Then you could just force Chris into submission.”
Noah scowled, his face reddening. He rolled his eyes, a small smile pushing through.
“Oh, shit,” Axel laughed and pointed at Noel. “Now you sound like Clint.”
•♦•
“Cory caught the fucker.” Clint tucked away his phone. �
��He’s taking him back to the guest room.”
Cochise stood rigid, his face hard as stone. “How close was he to the kids?”
“Too fucking close.” Clint looked at the men. “Turn this fucking place inside out. If there’sanymore of these bastards hiding out—I want them found.” Clint nodded at the man slumped on the floor, watching them in blatant terror. “Do what you want with that fucker,” he told Cochise. “But do it here. We’ll take our time playing with the motherfucker Cory brought in.”
Cruz stepped over. “One minute, before you incapacitate him.” He hunkered down in front of the man. “These buyers that are coming tomorrow…have you dealt with them before? Do they know your faces?”
The man swallowed hard and just stared at him.
Cochise smacked him in the head. “Answer him, fucker!”
“No,” the man choked. “We’re always dealing with different people.” He trembled and whimpered, “Please don’t kill me.”
Cruz stood up then kicked him in the face. “Fuck you, you sick piece of shit.” He nodded a Cochise. “That’ll do for now. If we need more answers, we’ll get them from the fucker Cory’s bringing in.” He motioned to Sanchez and the two exited the building through the side door to get the truck ready for transport.
Clint turned away and headed toward the hallway that led back to the room with the kids. Cochise stood over the downed man who continued begging for his life. From his peripheral vision, Clint saw the Egyptian knock the man to the floor and heard the audible crack of skull striking concrete…then boot crushing skull. The man’s screams turned gargled as the massive Egyptian put all his weight on his right foot and smashed the fucker’s head, spilling blood and brains onto the ice-cold floor.
In the back room, the kids remained huddled into the corner, guarded by the older boys. Clint stopped in the doorway. “Spread out.” When Jacob glanced fearfully at the other boys, Clint stepped inside the room. “I said spread out…so I can see how many of you there are.”
Jacob reluctantly backed off as he and the other two older boys drew the kids into a single line. At the core of the cluster were two little ones hardly older than Jules himself. A boy and a girl who clung desperately, fearfully to one another. Siblings. Clint knew it without asking. Twins, no doubt, as they appeared the same age and bore a resemblance to one another.
He forced down his rage; he would have time to release it later. He studied the children, glancing from one dirty, gaunt face to another. His stare paused on one of the girls, maybe nine or ten-years-old. She stood as still as a statue, her eyes as empty as the dead, her stare focused on nothing—Blank—as if her soul had long since vacated her abused body. Perhaps it had.
Clint swallowed and cleared his throat. He counted twelve kids altogether. Twelve. He motioned to the door. “Come on,” he told them. “We’re taking you out of here.”
A mixture of fear and hope filled the eyes of the smaller children, though none seemed ready to believe that Clint and his men were true saviors—rather a new batch of monsters.
Jacob and the other two boys had the kids take hands and led them out of the room past Clint. Jacob glanced at the cowboy as he went by, his eyes uncertain, like the others, wanting to believe they were rescued…but too afraid to grab onto hope.
Clint walked them out into the main section of the warehouse. Cruz and Sanchez came in from outside and informed him the truck was ready.
“Here’s your jacket.” Cruz handed him the coat. “Axel will kick your ass if you catch pneumonia walking around with no shirt on in this fucking arctic weather.”
Clint had hardly noticed the chill setting into his bare skin, still tacky with blood. He looked at the thick denim jacket; fleece-lined and warm as hell. His stare shifted to the small horde of children, trembling and shivering. He walked over to the two smallest ones and looked down at them. The siblings stared up at him, wide-eyed and terrified, their lips turning blue and fingers and toes reddened from the bitter cold. Clint squatted down and wrapped his jacket around them. Tears welled in their eyes as they clung to the jacket and each other, huddling deep into the warmth.
Clint stood up and Cochise came forward, wrapping another child in his jacket as well. The other men immediately shed their coats, offering them up until each of the children, from youngest to oldest, were covered.
“Let’s get them out of this shithole.”
They led the kids out to the truck and helped them into the back. Rodriguez and Matteo climbed in with the children and motioned for the unused jackets. The kids moved to the front end of the compartment and sat down, the younger ones huddled between the older boys. The two men approached them with the extra jackets and began wrapping up their freezing feet.
“We’ll be back at the house real soon where it’s warm,” Matteo told them softly. Emotion strained his voice. “It’s going to be okay. You’re safe now.”
Clint had quickly developed a fondness for Matteo. The young man was near Cruz’s age and despite his hardcore gangster skills, he had a heart of gold and loved children. Again, Clint’s gaze came to rest on the young girl who seemed vacant inside, unresponsive outside; was it too late to save to her?
One thing he understood now, that he hadn’t before; love was the most powerful force on earth. If the little girl was breathing—she could be saved…if someone took her into their heart and loved her.
Once everyone was settled, the truck was closed up.
“I’ll drive the truck,” Cruz told Clint. “I’ll meet you back at the main house.”
Clint nodded. “I’ll let Anthony and the others know you’re coming. We’ll be right behind you, once we perform one more sweep of the warehouse, be sure we haven’t overlooked any rats.”
•♦•
Eric leaned against Jacob, his head on the older boy’s shoulder and his eyes on the two men sharing the compartment with them. “Do you think we’re really safe?” Eric whispered with an audible shake in his soft voice. He was barely fifteen but, like the rest ofthem had had his youth and innocence ripped away from him in the worst way.
Tightening his arm around the boy, Jacob pressed his lips to his dirty hair as he, too, watched the men warily. “I don’t know.” He wanted to pray that it was so, that the nightmare was really over for them all, but he’d stopped praying a long time ago when he realized that God didn’t exist. Or if he did…he just didn’t care.
“They gave us their jackets,” Eric murmured with a note of hope.
Jacob was eager to grab onto that same hope, but he was scared…untrusting. He didn’t even remember what it felt like to have hope. He wanted to feel it again, so bad. But all of this seemed too good to be true. He’d lost faith that there were still good men in the world. The only men he’d known since he was twelve were bad men who only wanted one thing from him—and enjoyed hurting him while they took it. The more he’d fought it—crying and screaming—the more pleasure they’d gained. So, he’d learned to submit. But even then, it didn’t stop. It never stopped. He and the others were caught in a continuous nightmare loop from which they couldn’t awake.
Until now.
Maybe.
It felt like waking up…but sometimes even when a person thought they were awake, they were still dreaming…still trapped in the nightmare. He’d had these dreams before…thought he was finally free and safe…only to open his eyes to the horrors all over again.
Jacob hugged Eric closer. When he’d first met the other boy, he had fallen in love with his soft, tender face and large beautiful eyes. Even this nightmare couldn’t rob Eric of his natural beauty…though it robbed him of everything else. What hurt more than Jacob’s own abuse—was his inability to protect Eric, and the younger children, from the ongoing pain and humiliation of this life they’d been forced into.
He laid his head against Eric’s and finally closed his eyes. If this were just a dream within the nightmare, he hoped that this time…he never woke up.
Chapter 3
“
Are we going to do cleanup?” Sanchez asked when the warehouse had been searched again and found empty.
Clint shook his head. “Leave the fuckers.” He indicated the man with the crushed skull and Cochise’s boot print embedded in the gory mess. “Put him in with the others.”
Sanchez gathered a couple of his men and they transferred the body to the other room.
“The buyers will be here early in the morning,” Cochise said. “Are we going to be here waiting for them?” The deadly look in his eyes confirmed his want and readiness to slaughter another batch of these sick motherfuckers.
Clint itched to get his hands on them as well, yet he hesitated in giving a straightforward answer to the Egyptian’s question. “We’ll discuss it later,” he said. “We need to get back to the house and get the kids taken care of, then deal with the fucker in the guest room.”
One of the Santiago men approached Clint and handed him a leather-bound record book. “We found this ledger,” the young man said. “It’s full of recorded merchandise sales. Written up as actual merchandise, no doubt to avoid any incriminating evidence against them in case the cops get a hold of it.”
Clint thumbed through the worn pages and grew nauseous at the scores of completed sales. How many hundreds, or even thousands, of kids had passed through these bastards’ hands? The brainless dead man was right; the records showed dealings with multiple buyers. Rarely the same ones more than once or twice.
Clint closed the book and spoke to Cochise. “Let’s get back to the house.” He looked at the young man. “If you find anything else, let me know.”
“Of course.”
The cowboy and Egyptian left the warehouse and climbed into Clint’s car. With the engine idling, Clint stared out the front windshield, brow cinched in deep thought. “This is a fucking sex trafficking ring,” he murmured. “We could wait for the buyers tomorrow and get rid of them, but it isn’t going to slow down the trafficking of kids.” He shook his head. “We’re not equipped to deal with something this large and widespread.”
