by CJ Bishop
Kelly smiled. “Must be nice,” she murmured. “Having a big family.”
“It is,” Savannah said. “Until Max took us in, it had only been Abel and me. We only had each other, no one else.”
Like Raimi and me. Would she and her little brother be blessed with a nice family one day? She gazed at Savannah and wondered how it would feel to be a part of her family. She had said their “ever-expanding” family…did that mean they took in new members?
•♦•
“What did Cory have to say?” Cruz guided the truck up the gravel road and emerged from the trees as the large structure came into view.
Cochise put his phone away. “He talked to Axel.” His face strained, lips tight. “Axel said Clint called him, all messed up over something that happened here.”
“What?” Cruz frowned and instinctively stepped on the gas, pushing the truck forward a little faster. “Is he all right?”
“Physically,” Cochise murmured stiffly. What they might find inside the orphanage was anybody’s guess. Clint—like Cochise—didn’t do so well with the emotional, psychological pain as they did with physical pain.
“What happened?”
“Axel didn’t know. Clint didn’t give him details.”
Parking the truck behind a white moving van, Cruz killed the engine and looked at the huge house. “Do you think any of the men are still alive in there?”
The Egyptian shrugged. “Don’t know.”
Cruz exhaled hard and opened his door. “I hope so,” he said coldly. “These sick fucks deserve to die slow and in a shitload of pain.”
Cochise nodded and climbed out. His concern at the moment was Clint. They were both capable of losing their grip, and Clint had been here alone this time with no one to pull him back.
The other rigs parked behind the truck, driven by Sanchez and a few of Cruz’s men. Cochise, Cruz, and Sanchez led the procession up the weed-riddled path onto the porch. Cochise opened the door and entered. The first thing he saw was the dead man on the floor, nose smashed into his face. Dead as a doornail.
“Looks like the cowboy started the party without us,” Sanchez murmured.
They looked around. There was a door to their left and Cruz walked over and opened it. He went still. “Jesus,” he breathed.
Cochise joined him and looked into the room. A small cluster of kids sat on the floor before the fireplace, their gaunt faces aglow in the firelight. Cochise hadn’t thought anyone could look worse than the kids they’d rescued from the warehouse. He was wrong.
Movement drew his focus to the sofa where two more kids sat staring at the men, wide-eyed in fear. These two looked healthy and wore normal clothes, rather than the filthy rags the other kids had on.
“The cowboy?” Cochise asked them.
The oldest of the two, a girl, swallowed thickly and stammered, “Out-out there…i-in the other room.”
“Don’t be afraid,” Cruz told her. “We’re here to help. We’re friends of the cowboy.”
The girl relaxed a little and nodded. “He-he was upset,” she whispered, and tears thickened her voice. “One…one of the little girls…died in his arms.”
“What?” Cruz murmured dreadfully.
The young girl pointed to a loveseat that was pushed off to the side in heavy shadows. Cochise stepped into the room and walked over. A child lay against the throw pillows, wrapped up snug in Clint’s warm jacket. To look at her, it was hard to believe she had been alive recently.
“Oh, my God,” Cruz whispered, joining him. “No wonder he was messed up. Clint’s a tough fucker, but kids are his weakness.”
Cochise was startled by the sting in his eyes as he imagined the cowboy holding the child while her life slipped away. He cleared his throat as it began to knot up and left the room. He passed through the entryway and into a narrow hall, Cruz and the men right behind him.
The horrid stench struck them before they made it to the door up ahead. The men swore and covered their nose and mouths.
“What the fuck?” Cruz muttered through his hand.
Cochise’s nostrils burned but he ignored the foul stink and shoved through the door, bringing them into a large room that could have passed for the bowels of hell. Literally the bowels. The smell of piss and shit overrode the other repugnant odors. A couple of the men vomited, and Cochise couldn’t blame them; his own stomach—as resilient as it was—churned dangerously.
“What the…shit?” Sanchez was staring at the huge expansive wall off to the side of the door.
Furrows cut across the Egyptian’s brow and he walked closer. The other men followed.
“What is this?” Cruz murmured.
Cochise shook his head and slowly rubbed his mouth. “Beats the fuck out of me,” he mumbled.
“Did Clint do this?” Rodriguez asked low, uncertain. “If so—why?”
The longer he looked, the more Cochise understood the significance of the display; the six narrows beams that had been nailed to the wall, forming three large crosses…and the barbed-wire crowns with long nails wedged through the crudely woven wire.
Clint meant to crucify these men.
Chapter 23
After leaving the kitchen, Clint returned to the back room. He stopped at the doorway. The chair that had been holding the closet door closed lay on its side up against the end rail of the closest bed. Clint walked over and picked it up, then suddenly hurled it at the wall. The wooden legs busted and ricocheted in opposite directions. His chest heaving, Clint squeezed the handle of the hammer until his knuckles whitened and an ache slithered up his forearm. He stared at the kids covered in sheets, their innocent lives brutally stolen away.
Clint felt himself slipping, then he was gone as the fury surging in his veins exploded through him. “Motherfuckers!” The hammer smashed into the wall, over and over, the plaster disintegrating beneath the force of his rage. The debris before him blurred and distorted as he beat gaping holes in the walls and ripped doors from their hinges. “Fuck!” he raged. “I’m gonna fucking kill you all! You Goddamn sick motherfuckers!”
As quickly as the fury unleashed, it abated, and he stood unmoving, his body shaking. When he finally shifted, he walked over to the window and stared out into the bitter morning. The icy air wafting into the room chilled his arms and pressed easily through his shirt. An alarming emptiness invaded him and for a brief moment, he felt as lost and alone as he had the day Donny was killed.
But he wasn’t alone. Not this time.
I’ve got you, baby…and I’ll never let go.
Taking deep breaths, Clint tried to banish the hollow feeling within as he listened to Axel’s voice in his head. I’ll be at the door, waiting for you.
Clint jumped when a powerful arm suddenly wrapped around his neck from behind. “We’re here, brother.” Cochise pressed his brow to the back of Clint’s head.
Turning his head slowly, Clint looked at the dead children. “We’re not leaving them here.” His unsteady voice took on a bitter edge. “If they have family out there somewhere, they should be allowed to give them a proper burial.” His throat constricted. “These are children, not fucking trash to be thrown away.”
The fury threatened to boil over again, and the Egyptian seemed to sense it as his arm tightened a fraction.
“We’ll take care of them,” Cruz spoke low from the doorway. “We wouldn’t think of leaving them behind.”
“There’s another one…” Clint faltered. “In the living room…”
“We saw her,” Cruz murmured. “We’ll treat her with special care.”
Clint looked out the window again, his heart knotting in pain. “She has a father,” he whispered and blinked when the landscape outside began to shimmer and distort. “She was taken from him. He has to be found so she can be returned to him.” So, she can go home.
“We’ll get her back to her family,” Cochise murmured.
Clint stood tense and unmoving, his stare distant and troubled.
“The
re was nothing you could do,” the Egyptian told him. “But because of you, she didn’t die alone.”
Daddy. He could still feel her fragile fingertips on his lips. The tears slipped out slowly and chilled on his face beneath the cold breeze.
“You need to talk to Axel when you get home.”
“I don’t want him to be a part of all this.”
“Bullshit.” Cochise gave him a firm hug then released him. “He already is. And you need to talk about this. You don’t have to talk about the things we do to these fuckers, but you need to talk to him about the girl.”
Without addressing the Egyptian’s words, Clint turned and faced the men. “We need to get the kids out of here.”
“And take them where?” Cruz asked. “There’s too many of them to take back to the house. These kids need serious care. Psychological care as well as the other.”
“I’ll take care of it.” Clint walked out of the room and the others followed. “Did you bring blankets?”
“Yes,” Cruz answered. “And we laid down mattresses in the back of the truck. It’s a long drive back to the city and we want them to be comfortable and be able to lay down and sleep.” He shook his head, face tight. “God knows, they probably haven’t had a good rest in…who knows how long.”
Still clutching the hammer, Clint nodded. “Their clothes are filthy and wreak of this shithole. Just because these fuckers didn’t give them anything clean to wear doesn’t mean there aren’t clean clothes here somewhere. Have your men fan out and check all the rooms and closets, everywhere. I don’t want them to have to wear that filth when we take them in.”
Cruz motioned to the men and they spread out in search of clean attire for the kids. Cruz, Sanchez, and Cochise remained with Clint. Their concern for him was evident on their faces. He looked at the Egyptian and the man’s stare was firm and unyielding. Cochise’s initial opposition to Clint bringing Axel into his life had shifted into the understanding that Axel was exactly what Clint needed in his life. The Egyptian’s slate-gray eyes were telling Clint to let Axel help him deal with this troubling experience concerning the little girl.
Clint nodded silently; right now, there was nothing he wanted more than to be in Axel’s care.
•♦•
After lunch, Eric laid down and was asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. Jacob left the bedroom and roamed the halls, then tentatively approached the lounge when he heard Adrian’s voice. He peered into the room and spotted Adrian and Cory sitting at the small bar, talking. He lingered in the doorway, nervous about walking in on their conversation. It wasn’t easy adjusting to this new reality where the authority figures were warm and caring.
Cory noticed him and smiled, motioning him inside. “It’s all right,” he said. “You can come in.”
“Is everything all right?” Adrian asked when Jacob approached the bar.
Jacob nodded.
“Where’s Eric?”
“Sleeping.” He lowered his eyes. “Right now, sleeping is kind of a luxury. We…we never got much sleep before.”
“Well, this is the perfect time to start catching up,” Adrian smiled.
Cory sighed. “I love afternoon naps.”
“Yeah, me, too,” Adrian chuckled.
“I need my midday naps,” Cory grinned. “Colton sure doesn’t let me get any sleep at night.” The two men laughed.
“Who’s…Colton?” Jacob asked quietly.
“My boyfriend,” Cory said.
It comforted Jacob that so many of the men around here were gay and so at ease with it.
“Have a seat.” Adrian slid one of the stools out for Jacob.
Jacob hesitated then sat down.
“Do you want something to drink?” Adrian asked. “We have some juice in the mini-fridge.”
“No thanks,” Jacob murmured. He fell silent and nervously tapped his fingers on the bar.
The two men exchanged a curious glance. Cory asked, “Something on your mind?”
Jacob started to say no, but the truth was, he did have something he wanted to talk about. He just didn’t know how to bring it up without feeling embarrassed and uncomfortable, especially trying to talk about it with two men. He thought if he ran into Adrian by himself, then he could talk to him. But Cory was here, too. And they’re both gay, so what’s the problem? If it had been one of the straight guys with Adrian, like Callum, then he would definitely feel too uncomfortable to talk about it. But Cory was gay, and he seemed like a really easy-going, cool guy. Even so, Jacob was having a hard time initiating the subject of conversation.
“Jacob?” Adrian touched his shoulder. “If there’s something you want to talk about, you can tell us. No matter what it is.”
Jacob grew more nervous and his voice shook a little as he whispered, “I love Eric and…and he loves me.”
Adrian smiled. “I was kind of picking up on that.”
“Eric’s a sweet boy,” Cory said. “So are you.”
Releasing a shaky breath, Jacob murmured, “Last night…it was the first time we’ve ever really been alone together.”
Adrian glanced at Cory, then asked Jacob softly, “Did something happen between you and Eric last night?”
Jacob chewed his thumbnail. “No,” he whispered. “But…but I wanted it to.”
“Eric didn’t?”
“He did.” Jacob swallowed. “But after everything that’s happened to us, I…” his throat pinched. “I was scared. I’ve never…” he glanced anxiously at the two men then looked away. “I was scared that I might hurt him and…and it might make him scared of…being with me. All those men…” Jacob’s chin trembled. “They hurt him so bad. I don’t want to hurt him, too…especially that way. But I love him so much and…and I just want to be with him and…love away all the awful things that were done to him, so all he remembers is how it feels to…to be with me.”
Adrian cleared his throat as tears dampened his eyes. “You are a very caring and considerate boyfriend to Eric. He’s very lucky to have someone who is so concerned about him. It’s good that you’re willing to stop and think about this, and talk about it, before just going ahead with it.” He shifted on his stool. “If you feel comfortable, we could give you some advice and tips on how to make your first time with Eric a beautiful, and painless, experience.”
Jacob was a little startled. This is what he’d wanted, but was too scared to ask straight out for advice. “You…would help?”
“Of course,” Cory smiled warmly. “Your first time is a big deal. It should be special. And considering what you’ve boys have been through, you want to be extra-sensitive, considerate, and knowledgeable.”
“You don’t think we’re too young?” Jacob whispered.
“Under normal circumstances,” Adrian admitted. “I would likely advise you to wait until you were a little older. But after all you’ve suffered, I think you deserve all the happiness and love you can get.”
Jacob swallowed thickly. “Thank you.” He was growing closer to these men much faster than he would’ve thought possible. Would the family he ended up with be as caring and understanding as the men in this house? Jacob wished he and Eric could stay here, for good.
•♦•
Cruz’s men found a stash of clean of gowns and took them to the living room.
“I need nine spikes,” Clint said. “Make them out of metal chair legs if you have to, but I need them.”
“We’ll get them,” Rodriguez told him and gathered the others as they went off again on their new mission.
Cochise, Cruz, and Sanchez helped Clint change the kids’ clothes and wash the gruel residue off their hands and faces. Clint took aside the boy who had told him about Grace. The kid seemed a little more there since Grace had died.
“What’s your name?” Clint asked.
The boy stared at him for a long moment, then whispered, “Luke.”
Luke. He thought about the Bible scripture in the book of Luke and found it poetic that this boy’s name wa
s Luke. “Okay. Luke.” Clint nodded. “We’re going to take you kids out of here and somewhere safe. There’s a truck outside and we’re going to take all of you in that rig. I don’t want you to be scared. You’re going to go to a good place.”
“I’m not scared,” the boy mumbled. “Nothing scares me anymore.”
Because the worst has already happened. No child should have any concept of what “the worst” is. “We’ll be taking you out to the truck soon,” Clint said. “Stay in here where it’s warm until we’re ready.”
Luke nodded silently. Obediently.
Out in the other room, Clint dug out his phone. “We don’t have any choice; we’re going to have to involve the authorities. Like you said,” he told Cruz, “we’re not equipped to take care of these kids.”
“What are you going to tell them about this place?” Cruz asked. “We don’t want them showing up while we’re still here.”
“They won’t. We’ll take the kids to them.”
“By them, you mean the detective?” Cruz asked.
“Yes.” Clint stepped outside and made his call.
•♦•
Wil had managed to stall his answer to Frank until they left the warehouse. Wil showed up at the morgue shortly after Frank transported the body, and explained about the cowboy showing up at his house and informing Wil that the Morgan twins were safe, then turning over the information concerning the child sex traffickers.
Frank was dumbfounded. “The children are safe?” Frank was aware of how stressed Wil had been over the abduction of the twins and his fear that they would never be found—not alive, anyway.
“Yes,” Wil murmured with a sudden spike of emotion. “He said he would bring them to me today.”
“And you’re positive he really has them?”
“He would have no cause to seek me out and lie to me. And he provided me with the information about the buyers and the warehouse.”
“But isn’t he also the one who butchered the men you found at the warehouse?”
