Dalton climbed back out and stood next to me after pressing a kiss to my other cheek. He and his brother shared a look, before Mac said, “You know we do, Vixen. It’ll be fine. This is it. We get Silas, we get a piece of shit DiAngelo or two, we come back to you.”
“And we all lived happily ever after. The end,” Dalton added with a wink.
I frowned at him, but glanced at the body cam again. This camera, if they did it right, could mean the end of everything. Fuck. I looked between the two men I loved, but was sidetracked by Diego climbing into the driver’s seat and Jackson walking up beside us.
“I hate to end the party, but we got to go if we want to get there on time.”
I started to chew my lip again, but Mac’s hand darted out to stop me. He pulled me in for a kiss, and I tried to memorize his taste.
“Hey, don’t be a hog. I need some of that good luck loving, too.” I turned with a half-smile, and found myself in Dalton’s waiting arms. “I love you, Vixen.”
My smile suddenly felt heavier, my heart sadder—for more reasons than I could count. “I love you, too. Be careful.”
He kissed me goodbye, then climbed back into the van into the vacant seat beside his brother. He gave me one final wink before Jackson slid the door closed, and climbed into the passenger seat next to Diego. Maria, Holly, and I watched the van disappear down the road.
Maria sighed, and Holly said, “Yup. This still really fucking sucks.”
Chapter 21
Maverick
I wasn’t used to having someone worth coming home to—it was a feeling a guy could get used to. Dalton fiddled with one of the computers in the van, and I glanced between him and the woman we both loved as her figure got smaller out the window. Feeling my eyes on him, he glanced up, and raised his eyebrows as if to ask a question. I shook my head, and he gave me a knowing smirk.
“Thinking about her?”
Always, I wanted to say, but instead just nodded towards the computer he had been messing with. “Everything good?”
Unphased by my lack of response, he nodded and said, “If shit doesn’t go sideways, we should be home in time for dinner. Everybody good for one last run-through?” Diego turned the radio down, and Jackson spun around as I ran us through the plan.
“Alright, so the compound is roughly three hours out—deep in the woods, off a private road owned by one of the DiAngelo shell companies. Intel said it was a temporary holding site, a place to stash victims before transporting them out of the country. We know from past experience the place is gonna be set up with a defense perimeter better than the fucking White House. As per usual, Dalton is in charge of hacking into their security system. Then it’s get in, take down who we can, find Silas and his buddies, and get those kids out safe. No one dies, no alarms, no screw-ups. Get the evidence, get the kids, get out. Good?” I met the eyes of the three men I trusted most, as they each nodded their consent. “Then let’s get this shitdone and get home.”
We hit just after three a.m.
I watched my brother’s back as, with the press of a few buttons, he disabled their entire system. “Comms check, everybody copy? Cams on?” Once I had confirmation, I headed towards the front door. There were no guards posted outside—they relied too heavily on technology that could be easily hacked. Inside, it was dim, with only a few lowlights in the hallway. Most of the lackeys were either asleep or half-alert—fucking perfect for us.
Room by room, we moved. Zip ties. Chloroform. One by one, guards dropped. Those dumb enough to resist were handled easily enough. Within fifteen minutes, the whole first level was secure, and not one of us had more than a busted lip or bruised cheek. We hadn’t found any kids, just a fuck ton of drugs. I led us to the basement door, and waited for Diego to pick the lock. Glancing at my team, I knew I wasn’t the only one preparing for the nightmares we were sure to find below. We had done this more times than I could count, but never with children.
The basement door swung open with a creak. A small, flickering light over the stairs illuminated the space just enough to see the mold on the walls. The air was humid and stale, and you could hear whimpers coming from below. I heard Dalton mutter a few curses and, out of the corner of my eye, I saw Diego cross himself. We were fixing to walk into Hell. With Jackson being more experienced than I was, I moved aside to allow him to lead us down the rickety staircase. His steps were silent, and he moved like a ghost. Making our way into the room below, we were met with the first set of cages.
Wide, fearful eyes peeked out from beneath unkempt hair, raggedy clothes hanging off thin frames. Boys and girls, ranging from five to fifteen. I genuinely felt sick. These kids… God only knew what they’d been through, or where they had come from. The hell they’d seen. Rage, hot and burning, made its way through my chest. I was dimly aware of Diego and Dalton approaching the cells. When the first chain fell off the door, several of the kids started crying and whimpering in utter terror.
My brother spoke soft, gentle words. “It’s okay. Don’t be afraid. We’re going to get you out of here. You’re safe now.” Diego translated in Spanish, just to ensure the message got to as many of them as it could.
They made their way through the next five cells, each as full as the next. Slowly, the kids began to move towards Jackson and me. Jackson knelt, holding his hand out to a little boy who looked about eight or nine. The kid eyed him, distrust and fear in his brown eyes, before hesitantly taking Jackson’s outstretched hand. I looked around. There were easily thirty kids here—luckily we had arranged to have more vans waiting to take them back.
I nodded at Jackson. “You know what to do—get them out of here. Dalton and I will catch up.”
I watched as Jackson and Diego shepherded the children up the stairs towards freedom. It was time for my brother and me to go see about getting a dog put down.
The upper level of the house had three rooms, padded for sound suppression. Two were bedrooms, and I didn’t even let myself think about that. The third was an office with a thick steel door. Were they even aware that their time was up? Dalton bypassed the numerical code lock on the door with ease, and we drew the guns that had been kept holstered at our hips. The office smelled like money and rot, like old wood and even older sins.
Silas stood next to Luca and Michael DiAngelo—they were arguing over something on a laptop. We had caught them completely off guard, three identical looks of shock on their face.
“Hands up—back away from the computer,” I said, pointing my gun dead center at Silas.
Michael, the only one armed out of the three of them,reached for his gun, but Dalton trained his Glock on him and said, “Please just give me a fucking reason.”
Luca sneered, “I didn’t realize the fucking Boy Scouts made house calls.”
