by Adams, F. G.
I leave the room and pace the hall. A few minutes later, I hear the door open and close.
“You’re gonna wear a trail in the floor if you don’t slow down,” Johnny jokes.
“Can’t stop. I keep seeing her body being flung like a fucking rag doll into the van.” I grip my hair and yank. The self-induced pain helps. “She was putting up a hell of a fight until that son of a bitch knocked her upside the head. She’s a fighter.”
“Agreed. They both are. Together, they have a better chance to escape or survive.”
“Yeah, that’s my biggest fear. She’ll throw herself under a bus to protect Ella.”
“You wouldn’t want her any other way. It was one of the things that attracted you to her. Loyalty goes a long way, brother. C’mon, let’s go grab some grub and get back in there before Grayson gets back.”
We’re halfway down the steps when Grayson blasts around the corner, running like the devil himself is on his heels.
“Where’s Beauty?” he demands.
“Just left. Why?” Johnny asks as we follow him into the command center.
“I’ll explain it soon. Suffice it to say, a little birdie delivered some intel we need to check out ASAP,” he replies, continuing his sprint into the building.
Moments later, I’m watching the women’s abduction in slow motion on the screen when Radar freezes the frame. My vision blurs, and all I see is motherfucking red. Balling my fists to keep from punching the table, I leap from the chair and move closer to the image. It’s clear as day. Beauty’s bowie knife tattoo is staring me in the face. He’s been under my nose all this time. The fucking sleeper. And he’s got my woman.
He’s the one we’ve been chasing our tails in circles looking for all these months, playing us for fools. Everything makes sense. The dead ends. The ambush where we almost didn’t make it out alive. Grayson taking a hit in the shoulder. Aabdar’s assassination. Beauty’s the reason. We’ve found our Judas. A plan is set to catch the rat.
I’m sipping coffee trying to stay awake. Radar, Johnny, and I have been following the trail Beauty left for us most of the night. Now that we know who we’re looking for.
“They could be anywhere,” Johnny says and releases a frustrated sigh.
“True, but my gut is telling me they’re close—under our nose. He’s been able to move back and forth at ease without any of us realizing he’s missing.” Radar yawns, typing away at the keyboard in front of him.
“Hey, man, why don’t you take an hour. Get some sleep. We’ll stay here and contact you the minute any news comes in,” Johnny offers.
“Yeah. I’m going crossed-eyed staring at this screen.” He chuckles and stands. “And the coffee stopped working yesterday. Be back in an hour.” Radar shuffles out the door.
“How you handling this mess, Pete? You gonna make it?” Johnny inquires.
“Fuck. I told you never to call me by that name. I’m not sure. Just can’t wrap my head around it. My insides are churning. I’m running on fumes. I just wanna blow something the hell up. I can’t stop blaming myself. Should’ve hung closer when they were out in the open. Never would have believed she was in danger.”
“Look, bro, you can’t change what’s in the past. Ain’t gonna happen. You don’t have a magic time machine or something, do you? Didn’t think so. Quit beating yourself up. You need to focus on getting her back. You’ve really fallen for her, haven’t you?”
I shrug and look away. “Savannah isn’t just beautiful—she’s smart, witty, and well, let’s just say she gets my craziness and embraces it. We click.”
He shakes his head. “Hmm. Never took you as one of them.”
I’m about to ask him what the hell that means when Grayson strolls in wanting a status update. My temper flares when I’m reminded that Badahar is somehow connected to Mustaff.
“I will kill every last one of those bastards if they’ve touched Savannah. No way will they get away from me,” I promise storming out of the room.
I need to recharge and get ready.
As the minute hand ticks away on the clock hanging on the wall, we wait for Beauty to return. Radar sent him a text about a mandatory pow wow. He should be here any moment.
Grayson tenses and waves his phone. The email displays a picture on the screen, and I stop breathing. It’s my woman. Her body has been savagely beaten, almost beyond recognition. She’s balled up on her side without a stitch of clothing on. Bruises and knife marks mar her once milky skin. I’m not sure she’s even alive. A war chant begins deep in my gut. I’m driven to madness as I slam my hand down on the table and shove my chair against the wall. I’ve lost my sanity, and the only things holding me back from destroying everything in the room are Johnny and Doc.
I want revenge. I want them to suffer unimaginable pain at my hands for doing this to her. My chest is heaving up and down as I draw in quick intakes of air. I need to calm the fuck down.
The mission.
Save the women.
Kill the motherfuckers who did this to them.
In. Out. In. Out. I accomplish the task of gaining control and look up at Grayson, who has moved into position right in front of me.
“You in a good enough place to finish this mission?” Grayson stoically asks.
“Let’s light ‘em, Captain,” I demand, walking out to grab my gear. I’m going to light the sky like it’s the Fourth of fucking July in America. Vengeance is my friend.
“Hey. Wait a sec, Styx.” I vaguely hear Johnny. My mind is racing with the prospect of strangling the life outta Beauty. I need my bowie knife. I’m gonna flay him alive, piece by piece. He’s fucked up if he believes he’s getting away. Today, he’s going to meet his maker, courtesy of my knife and signature TNT cocktail.
“Styx, slow the fuck down.”
Johnny rushes behind me and grabs my wrist. I pivot around fast and loosen the connection. I have him up against the wall, my hand around his throat, and I growl.
“Don’t get in my way, brother. We’ve been through a lot. So you know I don’t need you holding me back. Stand beside or behind me, but get the fuck outta my way. This is personal. I’ve assessed the risks, and I know the stakes. I’m going to get my woman back.”
“Sounds fair. Just save me a piece of the no-good fuckwad.”
I acknowledge him with a nod.
I’m a soldier, suiting up for the battle of my life.
Hang in there, blondie. I’m coming for you.
Chapter 8
Lust for revenge is as poisonous as a venomous strike from a hidden cobra ~ Styx Fuller
Grayson arrives at the checkpoint exactly at the right time the fucker demanded. Radar and Doc are back at the command center tracking his every move, while Animal and I shadow him on the ground to begin with. We know the drill. Drop back and remain out of sight—outta mind.
I hear his phone ping, alerting us of a new set of coordinates to follow. I glance down at my phone. The picture embedded in the message causes me to lose my shit. I’m gonna cut somebody. Rain down pain with every fiber of my being. It’s another picture of Savannah. She’s in worse condition than before. Multiple cuts and abrasions.
I swallow the fury coursing through my veins, a vortex of emotions so powerful, and try to focus on the mission at hand as my vision blurs red. Retrieve, extract, annihilate that sorry candy-ass motherfucker Beauty. He will die. He signed his own death warrant when he touched what belongs to me.
“She’s in bad shape, Grayson. Doc did a preliminary diagnosis based on the last photo, and she needs immediate care. Broken bones, loss of blood, possible internal damage…” I can’t go on. The protective nature inside of me rears its ugly self. Emotions are a fucking bitch. I need to remain in check. Rely on my years of training to rescue her. Not go off half-cocked crazy.
“Boss man, you’re coming up on the warehouse district. It’s mostly deserted buildings. No civilians. Location should be on your right. Styx and Animal are in position. Sensors are picking up seven
warm bodies. Two off to the far right of the complex. Five near the front,” Radar reports through our com links. His voice barely registers. I’m on autopilot.
I belly crawl on the rooftop and watch Grayson arrive. A gut-wrenching scream in the distance has him run and stop abruptly. I’m in motion, moving back toward the rope on the opposite side. I recognize her voice. Savannah.
I hear Radar over the com. “Stop, Grayson. It’s a trap. Ella’s okay. My feed is showing someone hurting the body on the floor.” As an afterthought, he adds, “Must be Savannah.”
Oh, hell to the fucking no. I’m gonna rip Beauty from one end to the other.
“Roger that, Radar,” Johnny acknowledges. “Damn, Styx is leaving his position….”
I turn the com link to low and focus, blending into the building’s shadows. In my peripheral vision, I watch Grayson enter the building as he edges closer to the entryway. Grayson has moved ten yards in when a flash of metal grabs my attention. Instinctively, I aim and fire, releasing two bullets for a direct hit. I rush forward to Grayson and nod.
“Animal, get down here now. Radar, we’re going black. Doc, be on standby. Let’s finish this, boys,” Grayson commands, staring me in the eye. A promise of retribution passes between us.
He knows. I’m ready for blood. And I won’t back down until the floor is littered with Beauty’s remains. His death won’t be a blip on the radar for what my woman has suffered. Jail would be too nice. No one in this building will survive the day, except for the women.
Two clicks in my ear notify me Johnny is close. His shadow lands next to mine, and we begin our maneuvers, slowly making our way among the pallets in search of our target. Grayson motions us to spread out to approach the dimly-lit hallway from different angles.
The closer we are to an open door, the antsier I get. My finger is on the trigger, ready to strike at a thought. She’s in there, hurt, and I need to get to her. Hold her. Look into her green eyes and see for myself that she’s breathing—alive.
I nod as Grayson takes point, silently hugging the wall and moving in the shadows toward our destination. He enters first, gun drawn, and simultaneously, we take the position on each side of the door in the shadows. My eyes land on the heap of a human in the corner, and just as quickly, I focus on Beauty and Ella. He’s using her as a human shield. Enjoy your last few hours, motherfucker. ‘Cause I’m going to blow your fucking head off. Your time is up.
“Checkmate, Capt’n. I win. Place your weapon on the ground and kick it toward me,” the walking dead man sneers at Grayson. He hesitates until Beauty pushes the gun further into Ella’s temple and she releases a cry of pain. Johnny holds up five fingers to halt me. I loathe waiting. I want action. The need to destroy him and get to Savannah overwhelms.
“Now, Capt’n. My patience is wearing thin. Me and the missus have places to go, people to see.”
“Let her go now. I’m here,” Grayson demands.
I’m distracted when I see Savannah’s body twitch and she releases a small groan. I would rush in there without a second whim if other lives weren’t hanging in the balance. She needs help, immediately. But I’m stuck listening to this demented fucking prick drone on about Ella being his new pet. Would somebody please tell me what hellhole I fell into?
I’m good keeping my rage in check until he refers to Savannah as part of a training exercise. My eyes instantly land on Ella. She’s as cool as a fucking cucumber, but the fury radiating from those peeps tells me she’s about to do something really stupid. I can’t let her. She means too much to Grayson.
When she causes a change in the position Beauty has on her, it’s the distraction needed to get her out of his clutches. Grayson moves to the right, as Beauty lifts the gun and takes aim. Without a second notion, I drop and roll out of his direct line of fire into the center of the doorway. I land low on my belly and aim for the hand pointed in the direction of Grayson. I fire, and the bullet connects, removing the gun from Beauty’s hand. Beauty shoves Ella away and screams from the impact of the bullet as the gun falls to the ground and discharges, hitting Ella with the stray bullet.
She joins Savannah on the cold ground, slumped over and unmoving.
Beauty sits on the floor, holding his wounded hand close to his body. I watch as he grabs a pistol from his boot. He quickly lifts and fires, missing Grayson by an inch. Stupid motherfucker. I fire without thought, taking out his knee cap. Nothing but net. A loud yelp fills the air. Poor baby. Can’t take it, don’t dish it.
A smile forms on my lips as I watch him collapse and Grayson attacks, shackling the asshole tightly with handcuffs on his bleeding hand.
“You can’t stop us. We’re everywhere. You can’t even be sure that I’m the only sleeper amongst you, can you?” he rasps as pain begins to register in his psychotic brain.
Johnny helps me anchor Beauty to the lone chair, ensuring he will not leave this place until we’re ready.
Jacobs rushes through the door into the dimly-lit room, searching out the wounded. He reaches Ella first and begins to staunch the bleeding in her gunshot wound.
I rush toward Savannah, shucking my tee off as I go. She’s naked and shivering, probably in shock. As I reach down for her, I notice the deep abrasions peppered over her chest all the way down to the junction of her thighs. She looks like a wild cat attacked, clawing away the top layer of her skin. The cuts aren’t deep enough to kill immediately but hurt like hell. The pain is annoying but doable. It’s her labored breathing that bothers me. The massive bruises on her torso and back. Direct hits to her kidneys. They’ve been battered and bruised. I gently cover her, and her face contorts in fear. Even unconscious she’s battling to win.
“Hey, blondie. I’m here.”
“Pete…”
“Yeah, Savannah. I’m here.”
She tries to whisper something, but pain makes her cringe, silencing her attempt.
“Shhh, baby. Everything’s gonna be okay. We can talk later once you start feeling better. Even your wild horses couldn’t drag me away. You got me? You know who I am, and I won’t let you slide through my hands without a fight. Stick with me till Doc can check you out. Please.”
I ramble on about inconsequential stuff until I feel a hand land on my shoulder. I look up and see Johnny through the watery mess I’m making.
“He’s got Ella patched up. Grayson’s with her now. We need to get them both to the transport. You’ve gotta make some room. Let Doc check her. Make sure she’s stabilized enough for us to load her up. She needs to be at the TMC stat.”
I adjust my protective stance and allow Jacobs to examine Savannah. She doesn’t make a sound when he jabs a needle into her arm to administer fluids and pain medication intravenously. Her face relaxes as the medicine flushes the pain away. I relax a little bit knowing she is able to rest.
“Not sure if her ribs are broken, Styx. She’s got internal damage, but there’s nothing I can do here except give her pain meds. Here.” He hands me a folded blanket. “Wrap her up and let’s get her to the Humvee.”
I gently cover Savannah, trying but failing not to cause her any additional suffering. Her body is a map of pain. I lift her into my arms and kiss her dirty forehead, holding her close to my chest. Jacobs hands the bag of fluids to Johnny. This precious sassy-mouthed woman owns me. I place her in the transport, and when feelings of remorse grip me, my throat constricts. The idea of her out of my line of vision causes physical pain. I don’t want to leave her. The overwhelming need to watch over and protect consumes me.
“C’mon, Styx. Let Doc do his job while we do ours. We’ve got work and somebody waiting on us,” he mentions, pointing in the direction of the abandoned warehouse.
“True fact.”
I kiss Savannah’s limp hand and whisper softly in her ear, “I’ll be with you soon, blondie.”
We make our way into the building. My pace picks up as we close the distance to Beauty. I want him to hurt for what he’s done to Savannah. I ball my fists in anger. The
insurmountable betrayal and treachery to my team and country cuts deep. He will suffer. I come to a stop halfway between a wall of crates when Johnny turns around.
“You good? You’re growling.”
“Jesus, man. I need accountability. A pound of flesh for every fucking mark on her body.”
“Little blood thirsty?”
“You got no idea. I’m gonna make him wish he were dead before he actually meets the Almighty.”
“Can’t say I blame you. We’ve got some unfinished business to attend to.” Johnny slaps me on the shoulder, pushing me forward.
We walk in to find Ella in Grayson’s arms. “I’ll be back in a few. Don’t take your eyes off that motherfucker,” he commands. The look he gives us is promising retribution.
When he returns, it’s playtime. I crack my knuckles in anticipation. The smirk plastered across Beauty’s face has me seeing red, but I have to wait when Johnny steps forward and slams his fist square into his nose. We all hear the horrible crack reverberate against the walls. Grayson signals with a chin up in my direction.
My turn. I release the flood gates of hell on him. Every ounce of anger, betrayal, and regret I’ve submerged and buried the last few days connects with the first punch that lands a direct hit on his solar plexus, rendering him breathless.
I continue, purging the demons inside with each connected strike. This is for my woman. Pow. The pain and suffering she was given at your hands. Thump. His low moans of discomfort tickle my ears. I throw a one-two jab across his broken jaw like I’m in the gym boxing, and blood spews to the floor where Savannah’s puddle is. I’m relentless. The ambush. Punch. Grayson being shot. Slam. I could have lost my brothers. Strike. The sound of bones fracturing saturates the air.
My fists are bloody and I’m breathing heavy. I don’t want to stop. I grab his hair and yank him backwards.
