Perfect Ruin (Unyielding #2)

by Nashoda Rose

  I busted through the basement door into the room he’d been in and dove for the window. My hand grazed his ankle, but he was too quick and slipped from my grasp.

  “Connor. Shit. You need the drug.”

  The bastard had the nerve to turn and crouch before the basement window and I saw the journal Deck had shown me on the plane, clutched tightly in his grip. Did he remember? Why the hell would he take that?

  “Get Georgie clear of this.” Fuck, he remembered her. He jerked his eyes to the right and I knew it had to be one of the guys coming out the front door. I slowly withdrew my knife.

  “Connor,” Deck yelled. “Damn it, Riot.”

  Connor’s brows lowered over his eyes for a second as if he was in pain. I took the opportunity of his distraction and threw my knife, not to kill him, but to stop him before he killed himself. It pierced his upper thigh where the bullet wound had been, but he didn’t even flinch. Instead, he glanced at me, smiled, then yanked the knife from his thigh and wiped the blood on his pants leg.

  His wild eyes went from me to the direction of Deck then back to me. “The girl. Where is she?”

  “What girl? Who are you referring to?” I asked.

  “Riot.” Deck’s voice was closer.

  Connor waved the journal. “She’s not in here. Where the fuck is she?” His voice was rough and sweat dripped down his face. The guy looked as if he was burning up with fever.

  I knew there were pages ripped out. Had he written about some girl? Deck said there were missing pages. But why would pages be ripped out?

  “We’ll find her,” I said to pacify him.

  He grabbed his hair with one hand, clenching his jaw as if he was in pain. “He has her. Fuck. I can’t remember.” His eyes narrowed and darkened and he looked murderous. “Catalina.”

  I heard Deck inching closer. I slowly pulled a knife from my boot, but Connor must have noticed because his body tensed.

  “Deck. Now.”

  But it was too late.

  Connor was gone.

  Medellin, Colombia.

  You okay?

  It was a text message from London. They’d arrived in Greece two days earlier and were safe at Tristan’s place. According to London’s text message when they first arrived, it was over the top extravagant. She sent me a pic of the pool overlooking the edge of a cliff, but it wasn’t the pic I wanted. I wanted the bedroom where she’d be sleeping.

  I got that later.

  Yeah, baby. But I won’t be able to contact you for a bit.

  Okay.

  She did a cute heart and an xxx. I’d never had that and I seriously liked it.

  London was stronger than she’d ever been. There was no argument about me leaving, about her leaving, about us being separated. She knew this had to happen and she was giving me what I needed.

  She texted again.

  Love you. Be careful.

  Always, London.

  That had a double meaning and I knew she’d get that. I’d always love her and I’d always be careful.

  I tucked my phone in my pocket as Tyler lowered his and said, “Got info on Catalina Moreno,” Tyler said. “Moreno married her at age twenty and word is, it wasn’t by choice.”

  Connor was going after Catalina. The question was why? And did he remember enough to know where she was? And who she was?

  Deck snorted, shaking his head with disgust. “Family?”

  Tyler sighed. “None left. She was payment. The rest of her family killed, a brother, mother and father. Father had worked for Moreno, flew one of his planes back and forth to Miami, drug trafficking route. Probably stole from him, lost a shipment, who the fuck knows. But his family paid for whatever went down. Catalina lives because she’s beautiful and according to my contact, Moreno likes beautiful things.”

  I crossed my arms while leaning against the old wooden door of the house we were holed up in while waiting for Tyler’s contact to arrive.

  “Fuck.” I’d seen that shit, saw it those two years I’d searched for London. Still, no matter how many times you saw girls forced into prostitution, or marriages, you never became accustomed to it.

  Tyler continued, “So Connor met her. Where? When? Shit, it could’ve been last month or ten years ago before he was taken.”

  I shook my head. “He had the journal in his hand when he escaped the house. He gestured to it when he asked where she was. He had to have met her before he was taken by Vault and those pages were about her.”

  “His head is also seriously fucked,” Vic stated.

  True. His memory was screwed up from the drug and we didn’t know what the hell was going on with him or even if he was still alive.

  There was a light tap on the door and I pushed away, my hand on my knife. I heard the men behind me do the same. Weapons ready.

  I cracked it open. A small, robust man, early forties, dark skin, and a heavily wrinkled brow as if he frowned too much, stood with his hat in his hands while he nervously shifted his feet. I grabbed his arm and hauled him inside.

  Tyler had contacted an acquaintance of his who lived in Medellin, Colombia. This acquaintance had known Tyler’s father who had been a DEA agent. Tyler’s father spent a lot of time down in Colombia, talked about it to Tyler when he was growing up. It was why Tyler had joined the army.

  “Moreno? The kids?” I asked.

  “Si. Si.” He nodded several times.

  Tyler rose to his feet, walked over and slapped the guy on the back, “Juan. Good to finally meet you. My father speaks well of you.” Tyler switched to Spanish, speaking it fluently. The man responded, although he stammered, obviously either scared of us or scared of what Moreno would do to his family if he found out Juan was being a snitch.

  But if he gave us what we needed, then he and his wife and daughter would be looked after. Deck had strings, but they weren’t like mine. They were on the right side of the law and he’d organized to safely get Juan and his family out of Colombia.

  Tyler translated what they were talking about. “Juan here delivers food twice a week to one of Moreno’s buildings. He says last week there were sixteen kids and twenty watchdogs with assault rifles. But yesterday Juan was told not to bring food.”

  “They’re moving,” I said.

  Tyler nodded. “It’s been the same routine for the last three years he has supplied them. Every Tuesday and Friday, never missed a day.”

  “Need to make our move now.” Vic started to gather up his gear as did Ernie. Tristan shut down the computer and packed it up.

  “He knows we’re coming,” Deck said. “He gets those kids into the jungle, we’ll never find them. No time for sneak and peek. We go in locked and loaded.”

  The kids were most important, but Moreno wouldn’t give a shit about losing sixteen kids when he could pick up twenty more. Our plan was to hit it hard and get the kids out while Tristan and Ernie had eyes on Moreno’s house and his movements. Because he’d make a move the second he heard his farm was being taken out.

  “We don’t leave Colombia until he’s dead,” I stated.

  The men nodded. We were all in agreement on this. Moreno was too dangerous alive knowing we were after him. Vault’s foundation was crumbling, but it hadn’t fallen and Moreno was a building block we had to crush fast before he found others to replace my mother and Dorsey.

  I walked over to my knapsack, unzipped it, and then pulled out a wad of cash. Ten grand. It was more than this man probably saw in his lifetime. “Half now. Half when you show us where.” I tossed him the money and his mouth gaped then produced a smile, revealing his crooked teeth.

  Tyler translated what I said. He’d show us the location of the building. Then he’d take his family to a disclosed location where Deck’s contact was waiting to get them out.

  “Si. Si.”

  Tyler spoke to him a little more in Spanish and then slapped him on the back again.

  “Let’s roll,” Deck ordered.

  I wasn’t used to working with other men on a
job. Ernie was it and that had strictly been while searching for London, never anything to do with Vault missions.

  Now I had Deck, Vic, Tyler, Ernie, and Tristan, who surprisingly knew how to handle a gun and a knife. But it made sense; he had spent years at the farm before Chess helped him escape.

  The Moreno Cartel had a number of ‘jungle labs’ for his cocaine operation, but according to Tyler’s contact, Juan, there was a building owned by Moreno a mile from his extravagant property where he resided.

  Juan took us to a rooftop of an abandoned apartment building and pointed to the west across an alley. It was obvious which one he was pointing to as it had barbwire above the eight-foot brick walls. It looked like a fuckin’ prison.

  “Fuck.” I strode to the edge of the building, eyes on ‘the farm.’ Hell happened in that place. Darkness for days. Food deprivation. The pit. Torture techniques used to make certain we didn’t break if we were caught during a mission. If we failed or weren’t good enough, we were dead.

  And my own mother started it. Sacrificed her kids.

  Tyler was speaking quickly in Spanish and Juan nodded frequently. I had no idea what they were saying but I caught the odd word.

  Deck and his men didn’t fuck around and, on the flight over in Deck’s plane, which was a cargo plane, we’d discussed all outcomes and who took lead on what. We’d had a blueprint of the building we knew belonged to Moreno, but couldn’t confirm it until Juan. Now, we had confirmation.

  Tyler shook Juan’s hand. “Good man, Juan.”

  I opened my bag and passed him another ten grand and Juan smiled then took off.

  “Not sure which is worse, back in the dry heat of Afghanistan or this sticky, humid shit,” Tyler said as he ran his hand across his damp brow. “Thinking I like sand right about now.”

  “You might think differently sitting in a pit in the dry heat,” Tristan muttered.

  My eyes locked with his and there was a mutual respect gained between us. Tristan had spent years at the farm in Afghanistan. He knew what it was like and instead of burying what happened to him, he fuckin’ uprooted it by spending his life making something of himself in order to get Chess and shut Vault down.

  Had a hard time respecting any man, but I was beginning to respect every one of them. I was beginning to give a shit about them, too.

  “We make our move now. Not dusk,” I ordered and brows lifted, all eyes shifting to me. “Moreno isn’t going to give a shit about the kids even if they’ve been conditioned for years. He cares about how he looks to others. We take his farm, it damages his pride and makes him look vulnerable. That’s what we play on.”

  “Agreed,” Vic said. He crouched at the side of the building, his binoculars out as he surveyed the yard. “Give me an hour for habits.” He was looking for vulnerable spots, finding the habits of the watchdogs in the compound.

  Ernie was talking to Tristan and they were putting on their headsets. Ernie was good. He knew what this op entailed and what would happen if it went south.

  Deck offloaded his gear. “Okay,”—he glanced at his watch—“two hours.”

  Tyler dropped his bag and took out his laptop and powered it on.

  I stared at the building, and despite the heat, the cold wash of familiarity of this place hit me. “I can tell you where they will be the second the watchdogs radio trouble.” Tyler stopped typing. “I know every inch of that place.” I was sixteen when the farm moved here, so I spent two years here before I was assigned to Georgie.

  There was silence for a few seconds. Then I turned, and Deck chin-lifted to me and started walking away from the group. I followed.

  “You going to be solid?” he asked.

  I stiffened, brows rising at his question, but I knew where it came from. Bad shit… really bad shit happened here. “I’m solid.”

  Deck nodded, his brows low as he continued to walk until we reached the opposite side of the building. “Don’t trust you, Kai, and my men are going into this without much intel. And we are because there are kids involved and losing them isn’t an option. Moreno living isn’t an option.” His stance was wide as he met my eyes, unflinching and direct. “You have anything to share, do it now.”

  Deck had men who had his back because he gave a shit. It was the complete opposite as to what I was accustomed. Operatives from Vault did missions on their own and we didn’t care about one another because we were conditioned not to care. Getting an assignment or mission done took precedence over all else—even lives.

  And that sat heavily on me. It rubbed me wrong and it was wrong.

  But I did have something to share. “London.” Deck nodded. “Anything happens to me, make sure she stays safe.”

  His scowl deepened. “Everyone gets out alive. You can look after your own fuckin’ woman.” He slapped me on the back and it was a surprising gesture coming from Deck. “Don’t like you, Kai, but I get you now. So, I’ll let you live and I’ll have your back.”

  The corners of my lips curved up. “No invites to Sunday brunches at your place?”

  Deck huffed. “Fuck, no.”

  Vic took out the two guys on the roof with his sniper rifle before we went in. Then he shot the grappling hook onto the roof with the crossbow and within seconds, we zip-lined onto the roof of the compound. Since it was daylight, we had no cover and no cover was shit, because we were visible to two guards.

  Tyler and Vic unsnapped and dropped before we hit the roof and each took one out. We went in from this position because Vic said they were lazy fuckers who smoked too much and hadn’t bothered to look up in the hour he’d been watching the compound.

  “Landed,” Deck said into his headset.

  Vic responded, “Clear.”

  Tyler repeated, “Clear.”

  Deck and I kept low and made our way to the north side of the roof. I had the rope out and grapple hooked within seconds before I rappelled over the side. I hit the ground and had my knife in the side of the guard’s throat before his finger flicked on the trigger of his rifle.

  “Clear,” I stated and Deck rappelled down and quietly landed beside me. I dragged the body in through the door and dumped it in the first door on the left, which was a classroom.

  “I’m in,” Vic said. He was coming in from the south while Tyler had eyes on the front.

  “North clear,” Deck said.

  Dimly lit hallways, damp musty smell, and fuck-as-all hot with no circulation. I shook my head as the familiar smells hit me and I staggered, placing my hand on the wall. I’d been compliant by the time I was moved here, but the pain hadn’t stopped.

  I’d been dragged down this hallway, the bottoms of my feet bruised, and then beaten until I couldn’t walk.

  “Kai.” I swung around as a hand came down on my shoulder. I had my knife to Deck’s throat within a millisecond. Deck. Fuck. Not a handler.

  “Shit.” I shoved away from him, but he didn’t seem concerned that I’d had my knife to his throat; instead, he nodded and gestured for me to lead the way.

  “Two Jeeps leaving the house,” Ernie stated. “In a hurry. Could be Moreno inside second vehicle. Serious firepower.”

  What the fuck? There was no way they made us that quick. There was no alarm. No gunshots.

  “Eyes on the entrance,” Tyler said into the headset.

  Deck and I jogged along the corridor to the electrical room. Deck was taking out the power, so the guards would lock the kids up in one room until they investigated the issue.

  Deck chin-lifted and went inside. I kept going, pulling my second knife from its sheath on my left hip as I drew closer to the door that led into the yard in the center of the compound where the pits were located and where we trained with weapons.

  The lights flickered a second before a loud thump and whoosh as the power shut down.

  I stood with my hand on the latch waiting for Vic and Deck.

  My back against the wall, I heard light quick footsteps coming from the south, and then Vic was beside me. He wore bl
ack cargo pants and a snug black T-shirt that was covered by his vest. A pistol sat at his right hip and he held in his hands a kickass Combat Assault Rifle.

  We needed to give enough time for them to gather the kids up and lock them down. Deck came down the corridor and joined us.

  I held up my hand and counted down as I listened for the footsteps on the other side of the door.

  One

  Two.

  Three.

  I gave a short, abrupt nod to Vic then threw open the door and rolled to the right as Vic took out the first guy, Deck the second, and my knife the third.

  I was on my feet and running toward a guard already shooting at us. I threw my knife while I ran. I didn’t stop as I passed him, but yanked my knife from his chest and kept running. I knew this place like the back of my hand. Nothing had changed. I knew where the pits were and where I had cover. What screwed with me was the overwhelming feeling of dread that was fucking with my head.

  The images. The feeling as if someone had a fist in my abdomen and was trying to rip out my guts. This place made me sick. It was sick and cruel what they did to us, what they were still doing. What they planned on doing with the drug.

  “Jeeps headed your way. Two minutes out,” Ernie stated. “We’re one minute behind.”

  Vic was taking men out, keeping my path clear as I made my way across the yard to the door that led into a large room where they put us if there was any trouble.

  I looked over to my right and caught a glimpse of Deck running on the other side of the yard parallel to me. It was the only time we’d probably ever be parallel, our paths in life the same and yet so very different.

  “Yard. Clear,” Vic said.

  I gestured to the door with a chin nod and Deck positioned himself on the one side. Vic stayed where he was, watching for any incoming or overhead assault.

  I kicked open the door and the wood splintered.

  Deck and I stood clear of it for a five count and when there was no sound, I entered first, Deck covering me.