by J. B. Havens
Guy hits like a fucking mule…
The third hit was a closed fist; the last thing I felt before my world went dark the impact on my chin, the painful shockwaves clacking my teeth together, and I bit my tongue, filling my mouth with warm, salty blood.
****
Jackson led the way onto the tarmac of the small airport, the SUV Mic has taken still sitting where she had left it. Waiting for them was a twin of their jet, only it was white and slightly smaller; it was hard to get an exact replica when theirs was a custom job.
“Jones, you never fail to amaze. Where the fuck did you get this?” Jackson fought to get his bulk up the narrow staircase. Damn things were made for tiny little businessmen and their girlfriends, not soldiers.
“Well, Master Sergeant... do you really want to know?” Jones looked sheepish, rubbing his hand along the band of his Stetson.
“Was it illegal?” Jackson didn’t care much for legalities, but he still needed to answer for any blatant law breaking.
“No,” Jones replied, taking a seat next to Rook. The interior was smaller and much narrower than their jet. There were no bank of computers nor cozy little tables, just six chairs and what looked like a pull-out couch.
“Okay then, that’s enough for me. Flynn, get this can in the air; she’s got enough of a head start on us as it is.”
“Buckle up, kiddies, we’re taking off.” Flynn came over the intercom. Why he used it when he could just turn around was anyone’s guess.
Seat belts clicked and Jackson was grateful that the seats weren’t as narrow as the stairs. He didn’t fly often; at least not in a plane, but this wasn’t too bad. “Jones, get on that tablet of yours and pull me up some intelligence,”
“Yes, Master Sergeant.” Jones’s finesse with technology never got old. It made life for them a lot easier. Seeing him in combat gear while handling the delicate electronics was always interesting.
“Master Sergeant, are you going to stay on the plane or are you coming in with us?” Rook had the balls to ask.
“Son, I have my rifle, my sidearm, and three knives. Do you think I brought them because they look pretty?”
“No, Master Sergeant.” Rook looked at his boots.
“This is Mic; she’s one of our own. She may be a fucking dumb-ass for going it alone, but I for one, am not willing to stand over her coffin. Got me, soldier?” Jackson swallowed the egg-sized lump in his throat. Showing emotion was out of the question, but Mic was like a daughter to him and he refused to stand back while the others went in and saved her.
“Copy that, Master Sergeant.” They each replied in turn.
“Flynn, what’s our ETA?” Jackson barked over his shoulder.
“Right around six hours, sir.”
“Make it less if you can. Jones, I want transport on the ground when we get there; a chopper if possible. If the Mexican government won’t provide one, you get me a private contractor. Got me?” Jackson’s skin was itching with impatience. A man who would willingly slaughter dozens of innocent people just to make a point and send a message was not someone Mic needed to be spending any length of time with.
“Jones, where’s our jet?” Anxiety was balling his stomach into knots.
“She’s about an hour ahead of us; once she lands she’s got a bit of a drive. I’m assuming she obtained a vehicle somehow. She’ll make it there before dawn, but only just in time.” Jones kept tapping away on the tablet, cursing under his breath occasionally.
“She’ll be alone for five hours. That’s a long fucking time. God dammit, Mic, what were you thinking?” Jackson rubbed both hands back and forth over his head. “Everyone try to relax; maybe get some rest. We’ve got a long day ahead of us.”
Jackson pulled out his Sig Sauer that Mic had gotten him for Christmas last year; the gold leaf inside the engravings was still as shiny and gorgeous as the day she gave it to him. He’d never fired it outside of the range; it was intended as more of a show piece. He would use it for its intended deadly purpose tonight if he got the chance.
The others kicked back as best they could. Jackson wouldn’t be able to sleep until Mic was home safe. Losing her wasn’t an option. Phillips’s death had nearly broken them; if Mic were to die it would be the end of Steel.
His thoughts turned to Beatrice as he holstered his pistol. She was an amazing woman and there was nothing he wanted more than to get to know her better... in every way. He couldn’t allow himself the option or even the thought of such happiness with her if he didn’t bring her niece home in one piece.
“Sir! Master Sergeant!” Jones’s voice startled him awake. He hadn’t intended to fall asleep, but like most soldiers, he could sleep anywhere, anytime when on a mission. It was sleeping at home in a bed that was the trouble.
“What is it, Jones?”
“I’ve got her. She texted me and activated the GPS in her phone.” His voice was laced with excitement. He flipped the table around so Jackson could see the text.
Hurry up, Eagle. I’m waiting.
“That’s our girl!” Jackson rose and took the seat next to Jones. “Can you pull up satellite on this thing?” he asked, pointing at the tablet.
“No. Sorry, boss. I can pin point where she is on Google Earth, but that’s it.”
“It’ll have to do. Pull it up. Fuck, I wish we had a big monitor. This screen is too small for us all to crowd around.”
“Just tell me who to shoot; that’s all I need to know,” Pierce said.
“I’m sure it’ll be easy enough to figure out. It’s usually the guys with guns shooting at you.” Flynn joked from the cockpit.
Pierce laughed. “Always have to be the smart ass, huh, Flynn?” The little bit of levity was welcome.
“Let’s just focus on getting there in one piece and getting her the fuck out, then I’m going to kill her myself,” Jackson growled.
“Copy that, Master Sergeant,” Pierce said, echoed by the others. Rook was the only one who remained silent, focused on the passing clouds outside his window, seemingly lost in thought.
Chapter 23
I woke by degrees, quickly recognizing the pain in my head. Moving too fast would be a very bad idea. I was lying on my side, cold seeping into my skin from the floor; at least I thought it was the floor. I tried to open my eyes, but only saw blackness. There wasn’t a blindfold or hood on me that I could feel.
Fuck... fuckity... fuck... I’m in the dark…
My breathing picked up as my claustrophobia rose to the surface. Panic gripped me in a vicious, choking hold. I tried to swallow it down... calm my breathing. I needed to focus on something else, like getting out of the dark.
I tried to pull my arms forward, but they were tied behind me. Wiggling them back and forth got no response. I couldn’t feel my fingers; I was tied too tightly. Bad for me, but damn effective.
Fine, moving on…
Trying to move my legs got the same result, my ankles were tied together; any movement sent shooting pains rising from my feet, flashing up my legs to my hips.
I’ve been out for a while…
Panic was a living thing inside of me; it threatened to choke the life from my body. I’d been tied up before, and beaten, but this was a new level for me, left alone in the dark... with no escape.
This wasn’t the movies, you couldn’t break free from ties this tight. There was a madman after me and he had me exactly where he wanted me. I had to calm down; I was covered in sweat and my breathing was bordering on hyperventilation. The only sound were my gasping inhales and exhales. Saliva pooled in my mouth as bile rose from my twisted gut. I swallowed it down. I might be tied like an animal and about to die, but I would die with some fucking dignity.
I closed my eyes tightly and let my mind take me somewhere else. The brain is a powerful thing, I could go anywhere just by concentrating hard enough.
I felt the seat of my Jeep under me. I heard the loud rumble of the powerful engine; I felt the bumps and jerks as I climbed the mountain. The fam
iliar track was my second home, my place of peace. Music poured from the speakers playing my favorite song, ‘I Will Not Bow’. I turned my head and met the startling green eyes I never expected to see. The eyes that belonged to my secret favorite person, though I suspected it wasn’t much of a secret anymore.
Laughter brightened his face, making his eyes sparkle and dance. His smile hit me like a punch to the gut; warmth spread throughout my whole body while his smile shined upon me. His hand reached toward me. His palm nearly covered the entire side of my face and a warm glow seeped into my cheek from where his skin touched my own. The thick callouses on his hand were rough against my face. I loved the roughness because it meant that he used his hands a lot. The callouses were formed over years of gripping weapons and climbing ropes. I saw myself reflected in his eyes and it was a beautiful sight indeed…
I was wrenched from my dream suddenly. Frigid water soaked my clothes and froze my already cold skin. I blinked against the water, trying to clear it from my eyes. The room was no longer as dark; there was a silhouette, backlit by a dim light behind him. The angel of death stood before me, darkness seeping from his body, forming his grotesque wings. Fear froze me more solid than the cold ever could.
Blinking some more, I could see the outline of the doorway that he was standing in. I shook my head, trying to clear the last of the dream from my vision and seat myself back into reality. He was just a man; his wings were gone, a figment of shadows and shock.
“Time to wake up, my darling. It’s nearly show time for you.” Julio’s cultured voice washed over me, threatening to do what panic could not; bile was a sickening thickness in the back of my throat.
“Go fuck yourself, you cowardly motherfucker!” I screamed at him. Rage warmed my cold muscles. “Untie me and we’ll dance, you bastard. You won’t be standing so pretty when I’m done with you!”
“I abhor foul language from a woman. It’s worse than rudeness. Keep screaming at me and I will cut out your tongue and feed it to you. I have an excellent recipe for tongue, my dear.” He crouched next to me, reaching a long-fingered hand toward my face. I jerked backwards, but had nowhere to go. Uselessness and impotence curdled into immense frustration. I was trapped, incapacitated, and unable to defend myself.
My entire hope rested on the GPS chip in my phone and the slim fucking chance that Julio might make a mistake or give me an opening however small, that I could exploit to my full advantage.
“Fuck off, you sick bastard.” Taunting him wasn’t a good idea. I had no doubt he would carry out his threat.
Julio pulled a slim and wickedly sharp knife from his pants pocket. Flicking it open with a practiced motion of his thumb, he gripped my jaw; squeezing down, he tried to force my mouth open. I jerked back and forth, attempting to escape his punishing, bruising grip. He might look like a dandy, but he possessed real strength. My jaw ached with the need to open; muscles screaming, I resisted as long as I could. I yelled and swore, spit flying from my mouth.
He shoved the blade into my open mouth. “Hold still, my darling. I would hate to see you cut yourself.” He put a knee into my chest, rolling me over onto my back. My tied hands protested and ached with our combined weights. The pain from that, though, was quickly outpaced by the pain in my chest as he leaned his weight down, digging his knee viciously into my ribs
I heard a rib crack; the pressure increased ten-fold and stabbing pain stole my breath. I grunted and heaved, pushing hard with my hips, but he didn’t move an inch.
“Stop struggling, stop swearing, and be a good girl. Forget hope…,” he spoke into my ear, forcing shivers down my neck, “…it will not save you. Nothing and no one can save you, darling. I am your god; now and forever.”
The sharp metallic tang of the metal in my mouth halted my movements, the bitterness on my tongue competing with the fading hope in my heart. I tried to rally myself and find that core of strength and hardness. It escaped me, fading away with every second that ticked by.
What the fuck am I thinking? I’m Staff Sergeant Michaels, I lead the strongest band of warriors that ever existed.
I swallowed that fear, choked that shit down into the abyss of my soul.
I nodded as much as I was able to without cutting my mouth to shreds on his knife. I tried to convey with my eyes my willingness to acquiesce to his will.
For now…, I thought to myself, just for now. Endure, Mic. Endure this like you endured your bastard of a father.
He slowly slipped the knife from my mouth, lifting the edge of my lip up with the blunt side, exposing my upper teeth and gums.
“I will start here the next time you act up. I will cut your teeth from your gums. Do you understand me?” His face was inches from mine, the madness shining from his eyes. “Blink once if you understand.” I blinked.
“Good!” He exclaimed, happy as a child again, slipping his knife back into his pocket and clapping his hands with glee. I spit, trying to clear the taste of metal from my mouth. “Oh dear, you must be terribly thirsty. Where are my manners? I’ll be right back with a drink for you, darling. Wouldn’t want you to be dehydrated and pass out, now would we? Not when we are just starting to have fun.” He retreated from the room, a noticeable bounce in his step. The door shut behind him and the sound of the lock turning echoed loud in my ears.
I was in complete darkness again. The smell of the small room was dusty and slightly wet at the same time. I closed my eyes, transporting myself back to the mountain and picking up where I left off with Chris’s hand against my face and his smile warming my heart.
****
Mercedes tried to halt the echo of her clacking heels as she walked down the narrow concrete hallway, but it wasn’t much use. Taking her shoes off was out of the question; the floor down here was disgusting. Doors lined either side of the short hallway, and evenly spaced low-wattage bulbs hug from the ceiling every ten feet or so. There was enough light to see where you were headed, but only until you got to the next light. She switched on a heavy flashlight, trying not to look at the filthy floor that was ruining her expensive shoes.
Sobs and muffled screams grew and faded as she passed each heavy iron door. Julio kept a few women here all the time. When he tired of one, he simply killed her and ordered his thugs to bury her in the desert. There was an entire field of his victims a few miles away.
Reaching her goal, she paused in front of the last door on the left. Every door was equipped with a sliding panel that allowed someone on the outside to observe the occupant inside. Carefully sliding the panel aside, Mercedes stepped closer and shined her light through the small opening.
A woman was lying on the filthy floor, hands and feet bound, curled into as much of a ball as she could manage. She didn’t get the impression that this woman was afraid, more that she was huddled from the cold. Her black pants and t-shirt were sopping wet and stuck to her skin. What must be blonde hair was stuck to her face and, was beginning to curl wildly.
The woman was breathing rapidly, rasping and obviously in great pain. Her face was swollen and bloodied, but even under the seeping blood and bruises, Mercedes could see that this was a very beautiful woman. She was striking, even in her agony.
Suddenly, the woman’s eyes sprung open. The look in her grey-blue eyes had Mercedes stumbling backward. Never had never seen such rage and hate co-mingled with an iron will. Fear crawled down her back, tightening her muscles with the need to flee. Even though the woman was bound and there was an iron door between them, Mercedes feared for her life. If given the chance, this woman, this leader of El Acero, would kill her. Of that, Mercedes was certain.
Quickly sliding the panel closed, Mercedes hurried from the basement. With each step she took, the need to run dragged at her. She must convince Julio to kill this woman immediately. He should not take the time to play his games with her. She feared that they had made a grave mistake; this woman would be the death of them all.
Chapter 24
Jordon was the last to climb aboard the s
mall military helicopter the Mexican government was so kind to provide. Jones had been assured that even though it was old, it would fly. Strapping himself into the last seat near the door, he tried to calm his racing pulse.
He wanted to shout at Flynn to hurry up as he ran through a pre-flight check, flipping switches and talking to the tower. Finally the rotors began to turn and they took off.
“Flynn, give me an ETA!” Jackson shouted to be heard.
“Twenty minutes, if this weather holds. Storm coming,” Flynn said into his headset. Apparently Jackson forgot he had one on. Shouting was not necessary.
Jackson pulled out a map, spreading it out on his lap. “Someone get me a light here.”
Jones aimed a small penlight at the map. The pre-dawn sky was dim, compounded by the dark clouds that hovered on the horizon. They were flying right toward the storm.
“Okay boys, gather round. Here’s the plan. We’re going to land near here.” Jackson pointed to a small depression in the desert about five miles from the poppy fields. “We will have to go on foot. It was all we could do to get this chopper, so no vehicle this time. We’re operating on the assumption that Mic used a vehicle to get there. If she’s injured, we will use her vehicle to return here. We steal one if we need to. The goal is to get Mic; that is our number one priority. Killing that fucker that has her is the second goal. Pierce, I want you to raze that fucking place to the ground. Got me?” Jackson looked at them, huddled as close together as the confines of the chopper would allow. All of them were focused, driven with a single-minded determination; they would complete their mission or die trying. Julio and his thugs chose the wrong people to fuck with; they were Steel and they would bring fire and death in equal measure.
