by Jennifer Ann
“Damn. Wish my social worker had an ass as hot as hers. I got some old hag with false teeth that smells like vapor rub.”
I grin over at him. “You’re lookin’ good, all things considered. If you’d stop fucking shit up, maybe you could live with your brother once he’s out of his uncle’s place, and they let you out of juvie.”
“Those pretentious pricks deserved to have their car torched. And besides, Ryker isn’t ever going to leave that mansion. Why should he when he has it made?”
“He loves you, Bender. I know you don’t see that because of everything that’s happened, but you’re the most important person in his life. Maybe whatever we find in this warehouse will change things between you two. Maybe he’ll finally see that his uncle’s a scumbag criminal.”
“Doubt it. He made his loyalties known when he moved in with the bastard and left me out on the street.”
I stop walking to shove him. “If you think he chose his uncle over you, you’re just as delusional as he is! He wasn’t given a chance to choose otherwise! We both know when King Marty makes a decision, there’s no stopping him unless you’re up for a dirt nap!” When Bender gives me a wounded expression, I shove my hands in my pockets and take a slow breath. “Listen. Ryker fought for you, and lost. If he hadn’t agreed to live with his uncle, they would’ve thrown him in foster care too, and there’s no promise you would’ve been placed together. He hasn’t given up on you. None of us have.”
He doesn’t exactly act convinced as we continue walking. At least he doesn’t seem ready to bust my ass for coming unglued. Brooke brought out the best and worst in me, unleashing a side that’s a little too much like my old man. The last 24 hours have been a merry-go-round between losing Sasha and finally getting to spend an entire night with Brooke in my arms.
I stop suddenly, checking the address on the little sheet of paper, and point ahead. “Must be down there, at the end of the block. The big gray building.”
Bender bounces with energy. “Now what?”
“You should stay out of sight until we know what’s inside. You don't need another felony added to your record.”
“And you do?” He releases a nasally laugh. “Sasha told me you’re thinking about going to some fancy ass college. Dude. They’re not going to let a convicted felon into an ivy league school. You’d be lucky if they let you into community college.”
“When’d you talk to her?”
“She’s been sending me letters and shit. She was bored being locked up with your friend. Letting her play in the band is one of the only things that kept her going the past few weeks.” His eyes pass back over the building. “If she’s in there, I wanna help save her. You’re not the only one who thinks of her as a sister.”
“Yeah, okay.” With a nod, I slap him on the back. “Just stay out of sight, and don’t pull any hero shit. We need to find out what kind of security is on that building. Place could be crawling with King Marty’s goons. We’ll take a look around outside and try to find a way in.”
Bender practically skips beside me as we start for the warehouse. If we had more time, I would’ve insisted on coming back when it’s dark. Sucks ass that we’re exposed in the sunlight.
Several unremarkable trucks and cars line the parking lot, in addition to a couple of white trucks that appear oddly out of place. I motion for Bender to follow me, staying concealed behind the concrete lot’s only strip of trees.
I point at the trucks. “Those look like ambulances to you?”
“Yeah…only stripped of any markings.”
“What the hell would they need those for?” I’m talking to myself at this point, but Bender shrugs in response.
Whatever King Marty’s hiding inside, he must be confident it won’t be discovered because there aren’t any guards, and there’s only one security camera trained on the main entrance. After watching the rear of the building for a solid five minutes, I decide it’s safe enough to find a way in. Bender picks a padlock on one of the doors by the loading docks, and by some miracle, an alarm doesn’t sound when he pushes it open.
It’s too fuckin’ easy.
We walk into an open room filled with empty crates that reek of dust. Light from windows up high show cobwebs in every nook and cranny as we make our way to one of the doors. I open it carefully, expecting the old hinges to creak. Unlike the loading area, the hallway we step into is sparkling clean.
I make Bender walk behind me, stopping to peer into the window of each room before passing. It’s eerily quiet, and the rooms are filled with canning supplies. It’s as if production simply stopped and the occupant left everything behind.
Around the corner, we find another hallway. The sound of steady beeps accompanied by low, hushed voices come drifting toward us. We follow them to the double-doors on the end, crouching behind a wall as the smell of antiseptic clings to the air.
“The pilot just radioed in,” a deep voice announces, the words slightly muffled. I swear it could be King Marty, although I’m not positive because I don’t hear his usual German lit. “They’re five minutes out. Can you hurry this along?”
“Removing a human heart is a delicate procedure,” another man snaps in reply, his voice steely hard. “If you want us all to get our money for it, you’ll step the fuck back and let me do my job.”
Violent cramps seize my gut at the same time dark spots dance before my eyes.
They’re selling human organs.
Bender and I exchange bulging-eyed looks. He mouths, “Holy. Fucking. Shit.”
We both poke our heads around the corner, finding a group gathered on the far side of a massive room with dozens of non-functional machines. Beneath one that’s several stories tall with conveyer belts attached, there’s a makeshift operating room with monitors, spotlights, and a body on a stainless steel table. Everyone’s faces are covered with masks. Only one wears one of those blue paper gowns for doctors, blood staining his stomach and latex gloves. He’s digging around inside a woman’s chest cavity.
With the memory of the three University girls that went missing, I swallow back a growl as every muscle in my body coils tight. What if it’s one of those girls on the table? Shivers trickle down my back when I consider it could’ve been Sasha if the woman wasn’t blonde. I can’t sit here and let it happen to whoever she is if I expect to live with myself later on. This is some pretty twisted shit.
Bender reels me back before I’m able to take a step. “There must be a dozen guys in there, and every last one of them is probably packing,” he hisses in my ear. “You go in there and you’re a dead man. We both are. Sasha too. We’re finding her, then we’re getting the fuck away from this twisted mess. Let the cops deal with this shit. It’s way over our heads. Brooke’s counting on you coming back in one piece.”
“Fuck,” I snarl, realizing he’s right.
Before I follow him back into the hallway, I squint into the room one last time, committing the scene to memory. Three men have their backs to us. One could easily be King Marty, but there’s no way to be certain. The only set of eyes facing our way that I’m able to recognize belong to Terrance Fisher, Blackwood’s right-hand-man. There’s no question it’s him, even though he’s not wearing that stupid ass fedora. It basically confirms that Blackwood is behind the grizzly act, whether or not he’s in the room. No fuckin’ way I’ll let that bastard get away with this.
Bender and I head down a different hallway, checking every room carefully, losing hope with each empty one. They don’t appear to use the warehouse for anything other than housing victims and performing procedures. Aside from plain mattresses in a few of the rooms, the place is as quiet and empty as a mausoleum.
Right about the time I’m ready to burn the place down, we hear a quiet whimper.
Sasha.
In the corner of the final room that’s empty aside from a dirty mattress, we find her gagged and bound, huddled with her arms around her knees. Still wearing her shorts and pajama top from the night before, she�
�s barefoot and staring off into the distance, sobbing. Anger squeezes my heart when I notice the red rims around her eyes. She’s a tough kid, and I always knew it would take a lot to break her. Being kidnapped by the king of the South Side seemed to do the trick. Swear to god, if she’s hurt in any way, I’ll kill every last bastard in that room.
The sound of a switchblade opening clicks somewhere in the dark. I whip around with my fist raised, expecting one of King Marty's goons. Bender grins, holding the blade up between us and tipping his head in her direction. Of course the little sociopath would be carrying. Probably swiped it off someone on the light rail in route to the courthouse.
I dip my chin at him, pointing between myself and the hallway, indicating I’ll stand guard. He hurries inside, quiet as a mouse. I peer into the room a couple times, catching him hugging her one time, working on the thick rope holding her legs together the next. With the gag down around her neck, she gives me the brightest smile I’ve ever seen on someone who’s silently crying. I smile back, winking.
I’m grateful beyond words that Brooke wasn’t here to witness this. Her big heart would shatter into a million pieces.
Second later, the lazy slide of several footsteps echo down the hallway. I snap my fingers inside the room, grabbing Bender and Sasha’s attention, and motioning for them to hurry. Bender grabs hold of the ties around Sasha’s hands, and hauls her up to her feet.
My heart’s trying to beat out of my chest as the three of us start in the opposite direction of the footsteps, and run into a dead end. I lead them into the only open door and pluck the knife from Bender before pointing to a stack of crates. They run behind them as I keep watch. I’m ready to kill if it’s the only way I can protect these two from falling into the hands of those monsters.
“Pull the ambulance up to the loading docks in back,” the deep voice from earlier demands. “This one can go in the river near the University. It’s been awhile since a student’s body was recovered there.”
Bile rises in my throat, hot and urgent. I tremor from head to toe with the need to take out everyone involved in this twisted fuckery. More importantly, we need to split before they discover the picked lock on the loading dock door. Or the fact that Sasha’s missing.
I wait for the voices to fade out, and check around the corner to make sure it’s clear before turning to where Bender and Sasha hide. “We need to go. Now.”
They come flying out from behind the crates, Sasha’s hands now freed, and we start in a dead run to the second hallway. Another set of voices come at us. I motion for the kids to follow me into an office I remember seeing earlier that had a window. I quietly close the door and prop the office chair under the door handle as Sasha and Bender press their backs up against the walls. I make myself flat beside Sasha just seconds before the voices drift past.
“…bring something for the girl to eat. He wants to keep her healthy, in case he ends up using her as a donor.”
Sasha whimpers, her dark eyes snapping over to me. I shake my head slow and steady, lips twitching with rage. Not happening on my fucking watch.
Once they’re gone, I start for the metal desk, driven by uncontrollable fear and a need to survive. Bender takes the other end and we lift the heavy sucker, setting it beneath the roughly 4x2 foot window.
“Watch for them,” I whisper to Sasha, pointing at the door.
She starts for it as Bender jumps onto the desk, pulling the sweatshirt off over his head and swathing his elbow with it. He pauses, waiting for Sasha to give the okay. She stands on the balls of her feet to glance out both sides of the window before turning back and nodding.
Bender throws his elbow into the glass, and we all freeze with the piercing sound. Sasha glances into the hallway again, reporting back with a small shake of her head.
Suddenly there’s a steady chopping noise outside, and a rush of dust swirls through the window.
The helicopter.
It’ll make for a great distraction as long as it’s nowhere near our side of the building.
“Go!” I tell Bender.
He sets his sweatshirt over the edges of the window frame and grips it, kicking at the remaining shards while covering his face, and manages to make it out without cutting his back. It’s as impressive as a magician’s trick, though I highly doubt it’s the first window he’s broken out as a means of escape.
I take Sasha by the waist and lift her onto the desk. “We’re on the first floor, but it’s a little higher than normal,” I whisper as I’m hoisting myself up with her. “Be careful you don’t slice your feet or legs open. Push yourself off on the edge of the wall. Bender will help catch you.”
Tears spill from her eyes when she nods. I lift her in my arms like a child, aiming her feet out the window while she’s getting a hold on the sweatshirt-covered window frame. The door jiggles behind us, and I almost drop her as a harsh grunt falls from my lips. She gasps, launching herself through the broken glass and slicing her leg in the process.
There’s shouting from the hallway as I lift myself up to the window and catapult through.
Bullets whiz past my head. I turn for a fleeting moment to see Terrance pinning me down with a hateful look. Then I’m safely on the ground, twisting my ankle in the process. Sasha’s beside me a second later, helping me back on my feet as we’re protecting our faces from dirt and debris. The cut on her leg isn’t as bad as I feared, although there’s a slow trickle of blood running down her thigh.
“Over here!” Bender yells from somewhere nearby. I locate him in the front seat of a gray sedan, door propped open, one foot on the parking lot as he’s bending under the dashboard.
“Run!” I tell Sasha, limping beside her toward the car. She covers her ears as the helicopter blades become too loud to tolerate. Opening the door behind Bender, I toss Sasha in before climbing in behind her.
I throw my arms over the front seat, banging it with my fists. “Hurry!”
“The fuck you think I’m doing?” he snaps.
Sasha screams beside me. “They’re coming! Oh god, they’re coming! Rook!”
I yank her onto the floor. “Stay down!” Hardly a second later, the loud ping of bullets hit the car. I cover my head, leaning down. “Bender!”
“I know!”
Finally, the car roars to life. He shifts it into drive, mowing over a bush in the median. The back window shatters. I cover Sasha with my body, letting the glass cover my back. Bender slams his foot down on the accelerator until the building’s a mere dot in the distance. Once we’re certain we’re not being followed, I pull Sasha up into my arms, letting her soak my shirt with her tears.
Thank fuck we got her out of there in time.
But this is far from over.
12
Brooke
Several hours into Trask’s trial, I’m ready to run from the courtroom in search of a cigarette. There hasn’t been any sign of Blackwood or any of his men, which means they could be out looking for Liam. The trial doesn’t seem to be going in Trask’s favor, either, although they have yet to get to the witnesses that can collaborate his alibi, or the fingerprint expert.
I would’ve lost my mind with worry by now if it weren’t for Stone’s antics. I’m not as scared of him as I was in the beginning, although I’d still hate to make him angry. I’m able to find humor in the way he stares down one of the jurors, and the suggestive hand gestures he uses on an older woman across the aisle from our bench. It only makes me appreciate Liam’s advanced maturity even more.
Shortly before the court’s scheduled to break for lunch, the door in the back of the courtroom bangs against the wall. I turn along with everyone else, tears stinging my eyes as I watch Liam storm down the center aisle. He’s limping, and there’s a trickle of blood smeared on the front of his shirt. Otherwise, he’s whole.
Ryker watches him through narrowed eyes since we told him Liam stayed home with the flu, and Stone pokes me with his elbow. “Told ya he’s okay.”
He’s okay. He�
�s okay.
My heart soars as I repeat the two words over and over, as if they won’t sink in otherwise. Aside from the blood, he appears to be unharmed. Still, the scowl on his face is disconcerting. What did they find in that warehouse? Where’s Bender? Did they find Sasha? And why is he heading toward the front of the courtroom? He doesn’t stop until he reaches Pete at the defense table.
“Young man, we’re in the middle of a court proceeding!” Judge Parr barks as Liam is saying something to Pete.
Liam pivots to face the bench, holding a hand up like a traffic cop. “I just need a minute with the defendant’s attorney, Your Honor. It’s important.”
“It will have to wait until this is over!” The judge points at the bailiff in the room and one of the uniformed men comes waddling over. “Get him out of here!”
“Wait!” Pete says, standing between Liam and the bailiff. “Your Honor, I’d like to respectfully request a brief recess. This man came across information that may qualify for a mistrial.”
Collective groans and noises of annoyance are heard throughout the courtroom. Judge Parr pounds the gavel. “Fine, counselor. We’ll recess for lunch early. Court will resume at one p.m. sharp, unless something is filed with court administration in the meantime.”
When he pounds the gavel again, I inwardly roll my eyes. Judge Parr has a reputation for being a hard ass, but he’d never turn down an extended lunch break. He also has a reputation for being frequently bribed by his staff with food.
I stand with Ryker and Stone, meeting Liam’s unfocused stare as the guards are escorting Trask from the room. Liam answers my weary smile with a tip of his chin. I can’t say for sure what he means by the gesture, but I’m hopeful it means he found Sasha and everyone’s okay.
A minute later, the courtroom’s empty when Pete and Liam walk up to where the three of us stand.
“Are you okay?” I ask Liam, studying the blood on his shirt while slicking my hand over my ponytail.
