by BT Urruela
“You’re good, Greyson,” Robbie said. “Have we taken out the other ground unit yet?”
Greyson shook his head. “Last I heard on our line, the prospects from headquarters were making their way. Four of them, I believe.”
“All right then. You make sure they keep Dimitri alive for me. I don’t give a shit what they do with the other two. Just make sure the bodies disappear. And grab that watch off of Luka for the Senator before you and Bronson put my money in the Blazer.”
“Roger that,” Greyson said, and he collected Luka’s body from the ground and dragged him to the Explorer to throw him in the back with the others. Bronson, having sufficiently cleaned the tissue and blood from the windshield, was quick to help him load Luka’s heavy frame.
Robbie’s eyes fell on the senator, who snatched the watch from Greyson and cleaned the blood from its face with his shirt. “Now, about your daughter, sir. Have you decided how you want to handle the situation? With all this gunfire, even out in the middle of nowhere, we need to move.”
Senator Hale didn’t speak for a moment, as he put the watch back on his wrist. He looked to the clear sky in thought. Eventually, he leaned in and asked, “You swear to me, here and now, it’ll be quick and painless?”
“Of course, Senator,” Robbie lied through his teeth, but kept his eyes sincere. “She won’t feel a thing.”
Twenty-Two
Chaos broke out in the next room. Voices yelling, cursing, and a piece of furniture slammed against the wall and splintered. Annalise’s eyes flew open. Something had gone terribly wrong. The two men guarding her sounded as if hell just froze over and the devil himself was coming. Maybe he was. She had tried countless times in the past two days to prepare herself for this moment. But as hell broke loose in the next room, her heart erupted in panic. Bile and fucking ravioli exploded from her lips. Where is Dimitri? Is he okay? The questions plagued her consciousness but she had no time for that now.
Annalise took a deep breath. She fought through the panic. Whatever happened, she had to keep her head. Based on the pandemonium on the other side of that door, it was only a matter of time before they came for her. The men were yelling into their radios and she desperately wished she could hear the other side of the conversation. She immediately went to work on the cuff around her wrist. and prayed she could get her hand free in time. The other end of the cuff was around the leg of the radiator. She tried pulling and twisting to no avail.
Would Trigger and Charlie try to protect her if the deal had gone bad? Would they move her? Did anyone here even have the keys? Fuck. She doubted Dimitri would hand those over to anyone and she wasn’t going to wait around to find out. Until last night, she didn’t really give a fuck if she lived or died. Now … now, it was different. No fucking way she was giving up. Her skin burned as the cuff tore into her flesh. Still, she pulled, trying to rotate her hand. Too dry. She tried to spit on her wrist but her current state of dehydration offered little in the way of spittle. A pathetic bit of froth landed uselessly on her wrist. Fuck! She searched the room for something she could use.
In the next room, Trigger and Charlie sounded like they were prepping the Alamo. Hate to spoil it for ya, boys, that story turned to shit too. Suddenly a hole in the opposite wall caught her attention. It looked as if it had dry-rotted and fallen in on itself. If the roof leaked, then maybe this wall was shit too. Annalise grabbed a hold of the radiator and pulled with all her might. Nothing. What the fuck did she expect. She grabbed it and threw her weight toward the floor and collided with a lightning bolt to her shoulder but no movement from the fucking radiator. Time was running out and she knew it.
She sat on the floor and studied the antique iron. If she could just push it away from the wall. Her leg strength was way more powerful than her arms. Annalise grabbed on to the radiator with the cuffed hand and then bent over in a cartwheel position, grasping it with the other hand. Carefully, she walked her legs up and braced them against the wall. In a weird upside-down back bend, Annalise started pushing against the wall with her feet. She pushed and pushed then, getting frustrated, kicked her feet for all she was worth. The moment it happened, her heart sank into her gut. How did she not see this coming? Her left foot went straight through the rotten drywall, trapping her leg, and pain splintered into her ankle. Fuck! Fuck. Fuck. She ranted silently as the blood rushed to her head.
Annalise started trying to rock back and forth, still holding the radiator beneath her to keep from breaking her arms. Her foot was wedged tight. Her shoulders and forearms burned as the lactic acid built. Harness the pain, Annalise, she reminded herself. She took a deep breath. If you give up now, you are fucking dead. You will never see him again. Annalise collected all her energy and pushed hard against the wall, rocking her body down and away at the same time. The world flipped on its axis as the radiator pulled loose from the floor, and she rolled forward, her leg ripping back through the drywall. An ungodly pain pulsed in her left hand. Carefully, she wriggled it out from the radiator and started laughing.
She stared for a moment at her bloody and dislocated thumb, and it was the most beautiful fucking thing she had ever seen. The reprieve was only momentary. No time to waste. She took a deep breath and grabbed the thumb with her right hand. Eyes closed, she pictured Dimitri staring back at her, and pulled with all her might. The sickening clunk told her she did it right. Two points for dance injuries. Damn right the show must go on. She moved her hands, sore, but functional. Okay, time to get the fuck out of here. Quietly, she made her way to the boarded-up window and tried to pry one of the planks off. She could hear Trigger in the other room yelling into the radio, trying to reach someone. She paused and tried to listen? Who was coming? The police? Robbie? Annalise turned back to the moonlight seeping through the cracks.
Staying in this shithole was not an option. Annalise worked the first board back and forth, rocking it with her weight. Briefly, she imagined herself like the Karate Kid, chopping her way through the decrepit boards. She snapped back to reality as the board came loose, sending her backward. She managed to stay on two feet this time though, and used the board as a wedge to pry the next one. Each little victory fueled her will to escape. She fought the rusted nails until they finally gave up and succumbed to her will. Quietly, she took the board and used it to wedge against the door, to slow anyone trying to come in the room, then returned to the window. One more diagonal board and she could break the glass and squeeze through the opening. Annalise worked her makeshift tool into the small space between the board and the window frame. Just as it started to work loose, a rolling thunder, like a cataclysmic storm, roared toward the house out of the silence of the night.
The guys in the next room went into high gear. Annalise ducked as a headlight shined over the window. It seemed to circle the house followed by the rest of the pack. A sweat broke out over her entire body. That was not the fucking police. She ripped off the last board and broke the aged pane with her elbow. She ignored the blood that ran down her arm and dove through the opening, rolling in the dirt with a shower of glass. Without stopping to look back, Annalise ran for all she was fucking worth, into the woods on silent ballerina feet. She knew there was only a limited amount of time before her absence was discovered, so she sprinted like a gazelle through the underbrush, putting as much distance as humanly possible between her and that fucking house.
Hell had come knocking. Shots broke out like the Fourth of July as the horde on the bikes opened fire on the small house. Wood splintered and she said a silent prayer for Charlie and Trigger. God help them. Where are you, Dimitri? Please don’t be dead. Light was starting to peek over the horizon, but the forest was still shrouded in darkness and she stumbled over the thick underbrush. Annalise froze and looked around, trying to figure out which way she should go. In the next twenty minutes, the sun would be up fully and any cover she had would vanish. She took a glance back at the house—the moment they realized she was gone, the hunt would be on.
Twenty-Three
&nbs
p; Traitors. Robbie and Honey Bear. Run.
It was like some sick practical joke, the loud bang a firework and not a gun. Riker’s laugh moments from reverberating through their earpieces.
But it didn’t. And they knew something was really wrong when the line ran deathly quiet, and the rumble of motorcycles, though distant, grew louder by the minute.
Knuckles exited the woods first and he crossed the road to meet Dimitri. They peered up and down the road as they crept through the high grass. They spotted two riders coming from either end, just blurs, but the silhouettes were unmistakable, and growing closer by the minute.
“Fuck’s goin’ on here, D?” Knuckles looked one way, Dimitri the other, both of them backing away from the road then.
“Nothing good, I’m afraid.” Dimitri’s heart thudded. He looked over their bikes, hidden in the tree line, and then back toward the road. He shook his head. “I don’t think we make it out on the bikes alive, brother.”
Knuckles nodded, his lips pinched tightly together.
“We run then?” Dimitri asked, motioning toward the woods. “I’ve studied the fucking map of this area. We’ve got five miles through the woods to the safe house. Trig and Charlie will have the van, and we can all get the fuck out together.” He took a thick swallow. “This road is empty. We’re dead men on the bikes.”
“We’re dead men in the damn woods,” Knuckles huffed.
“Not if we can get to the safe house in time.”
“Who’s to say Robbie and his guys haven’t gotten there already?”
“We gotta fucking do something here, Knucks, and fast!” Dimitri hurriedly reached into his saddlebags and grabbed a small combat pack, opened it, and checked over its contents: extra ammo; six clips for the Glock in his side holster, six for the Beretta Nano on his right ankle, and a small box of rounds for the snub nose on his left ankle. He zipped the bag up and shouldered it, his wide, impatient eyes on Knuckles. “What’s it gonna be?”
“Let me grab my pack,” Knuckles muttered.
Dimitri leaned his thick arm against a tree, sucking in a breath, his chest on fire, the pack feeling like a whole other person on his shoulders. Knuckles stopped beside him but needed no assistance as he didn’t party quite the same as Dimitri those days, but he fought to catch his breath regardless. They had been running for ages. It felt like a mile and a half, maybe two, to Dimitri. Could’ve been more. He couldn’t remember the last time he ran so fast, so purposefully, his legs turning on their own, his mind locked in, steady. The buzz of spiking adrenaline.
Their earpieces clicked and fizzled, and then a voice came through. Jacoby’s voice. “What the fuck is going on?”
His words were met with silence.
“What the fuck do we do here, Dimitri?” Knuckles asked, a wrinkle of concern in his forehead. “Is Jacoby in on it? Or do we tell him to run?”
“Hello? Headquarters? Ground teams? Anybody?” Jacoby’s impatient questioning was met with static once more.
Dimitri looked around, listened, and heard only bird chirps and the wind rustling the tree branches. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing suspicious. He abruptly handled the small radio box on his belt and pressed it on. “Get the fuck outta there, Jacoby. Something’s gone wrong here. Just go. Hide.” He paused, his weary eyes on Knuckles, before he eventually added, “Trust no one.”
There was a click and then static. And then Jacoby’s voice came through once more. “Where the hell are you g—” There was a loud pop and then the line clicked off.
“Jacoby! Jacoby!” Dimitri’s voice cracked, his heart thudding in his chest. His earpiece remained silent. “Jacoby …”
Nothing.
“Fuck, man.” Knuckles groaned, his voice hitching as he came to a stop. “Goddammit. Goddamn, Robbie and all of his little sheep. We should’ve known, D. We should’ve fuckin’ known.”
Dimitri’s breathing was still labored, but he looked strongly toward his best friend, and squared his shoulders. “We’re gonna make them pay,” he said, passing Knuckles determined eyes.
“Come hell or high water,” Knuckles added, hands meeting his hips as he glanced toward the way in which they came, and then back toward the safe house. “Man, what if we called ’em, told ’em to get out now? We could meet ’em somewhere else. If the second meet site is hot, I guarantee the safe house is next. If it hasn’t been hit already.”
She came to Dimitri’s mind then, and his chest swelled, tingling at the base of his throat. He needed to see her, to make sure she was okay. “Call Trig and Charlie,” Dimitri said. “Tell them to get the van and get the fuck out of there if they haven’t already, and to bring her with them. Tell them to meet us at that rundown cemetery we saw when we were scouting locations. You remember it?”
“Yeah, in that enclave off the creek?”
“Yeah, that one. It’ll be the same distance regardless, but I think we’ll have a better chance of making it out of there. It’ll give them time to meet us.”
“If they can meet us,” Knuckles said. “How many were there on the road, four comin’ for us?”
“Yeah. And then whoever is at the second meet site.”
“Whoever’s left.” Knuckles’ own words sent a shudder down his spine. He cleared his throat. “You got another two miles left in you?” He eyed Dimitri’s heaving chest, a slight grin touching his lips.
“I’ll be all right, shithead. I just think I need to get in better shape the next time we find ourselves in the middle of a ransom exchange gone to shit.”
“Yeah, good thinkin’.” Knuckles grinned fully then as he dug his cell phone out and eyed it. “Shit fuckin’ service out here,” he groaned. He lifted the phone to his ear for a moment, and then shook his head, letting the phone fall to his side. “Not letting me call.”
“Text? Sometimes those will go through when calls won’t. Tell them to go to frequency four thirty.”
“‘Shit’s hit the fan. SOS. Frequency four thirty.’” Knuckles read it aloud as he typed it in and then he looked toward Dimitri for confirmation.
Dimitri nodded.
“Sent.” Knuckles pocketed his phone and changed the frequency on his radio.
“Good, maybe we should keep moving until we hear something,” Dimitri said.
“I’ll say.”
Dimitri ran first, in the direction of the cemetery if his calculations were correct, and Knuckles kept steady pace behind him.
They continued on for a few minutes before Knuckles slowed, and then stopped, pulling his vibrating phone out of his pocket. Dimitri, hearing the slowing footfalls from behind him, stopped too, and turned back.
“Fuck!” Knuckles balled a fist with one hand, his other handing the phone out for Dimitri. “I don’t think meetin’ ’em at the cemetery is gonna be an option, D.”
Dimitri grabbed the phone and read the message on the screen.
No meetup. Stuck. We’re hiding in attic. Lots of guys out here. Girl gone.
Girl gone. The line struck Dimitri like a bullet. His immediate thought was “gone” as in dead, and he found it hard to breathe.
Girl gone? Can you see how many guys there are? He texted back as fast as his thumbs could go.
A line of texts came in moments later.
Ran away.
Ten guys when I last looked. More now.
Can’t look again. Can’t move. There are some inside the house now.
Help!
Dimitri responded, En Route. Sit Tight, and handed the phone back over.
Knuckles eyed the text exchange, and then slipped the phone into his pocket, asking, “So, we’re goin’ into that shit?”
“As if that’s even a question?” Dimitri’s brows furrowed, shocked his friend would say such a thing.
“I’m just sayin’, we sure these guys aren’t in on it and tryin’ to lure us in?”
“Charlie and Trig? Fuck off, man,” Dimitri scolded, his sneer deepening. “You know better than that, Knucks. We brought them on for
a reason. And we’ve known them how long? Years, man. Years. You know those two are good dudes, and you know they would go after us in a heartbeat.”
“And what are we supposed to do against a dozen or more guys?”
“Preferably … we kill them. For Preach, for Jacoby. Or we die trying at the very least,” Dimitri said frankly.
“You’re fuckin’ nuts, Dimitri.”
“I actually feel more clearheaded than I have in quite some time, bro. And this is the right thing to do. I think you know that too.”
“If Robbie and his guys are at the house already, and they know she’s gone, and they know Trig and Charlie are gone but the van is still there,” Knuckles said, “then they’re probably gonna come through these woods soon, looking for ’em.”
“Then we get closer to them and we wait.” Dimitri said it confidently enough, but he didn’t feel very confident. Fear had taken hold, a fear unlike anything he had ever felt. Nerves prickled every inch of his skin. “We keep moving east until we hit the stream. Jacoby and I looked at this whole area with the drone when we were in the planning stages. Halfway between here and the safe house, there’s an old barn house, or the ruins of one, at least. It’ll be enough cover to take as many out as we can, enough cover around it to escape if we need to. The stream there is wider, if I remember correctly, and they’d have to cross it to get to us. Couple nicely aimed shots from the two of us and we could take down a good number of them.”
“Didn’t spend all that time at the range for nothin’, I guess.” Knuckles drew in a breath and then he let it out slow, resolution crossing his features. He readjusted the pack on his wide shoulders. “Fuck it. Let’s do this shit.”
Dimitri unholstered his Glock and chambered a round. “You ready?”
Knuckles did the same with his Desert Eagle. He shrugged. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
Robbie’s men were coming through. In fact, they had already breached the tree line and slinked like crooks through the dense forest, with their weapons aimed high and ready. Robbie ordered some of them to do so after he lost his gasket and tore the house apart looking for her, and for the two who should’ve been watching her. They had orders to kill Trigger and Charlie on sight, while the girl was to be kept alive and unharmed when she was brought to Robbie.
