“We’re all she has for a chance of living and getting out from under this asshole’s control. He’s going down, and I say let’s work on helping that process go along quicker,” Watson said.

  “What do you have in mind?” Simon asked.

  “We wait for the call from Mike then take it from there.”

  Chapter Eight

  “He took her, April, and word is that Wegman Vice has a jet waiting to take off tonight to Syria,” Pierre said to her.

  “No. Don’t tell me. Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to say.”

  “I’m sorry, April. You know what Wegman Vice is into. You know about his hobbies, his obsessions, and you’ve seen first-hand the damage he’s done.”

  “He’ll rape her and kill her. You realize that? That these agents, this military group is willing to let her get raped and killed just so they can follow Wegman Vice to Syria and maybe, maybe, catch Rosen Armique.”

  “You know that they’re a crazy group of soldiers and that the government wants the big fish, not the little one.”

  “Well, their operation isn’t going to go as planned.”

  “What are you thinking, April?”

  “That plane is not leaving the ground. Wegman Vice is going to get caught right here on U.S. soil, along with Cavanaugh and his asshole low-life friends.”

  “You can’t interfere.”

  “The hell I can’t. I owe Wegman. He got away, and I could have died. I’m the best, remember? Now, where is she being held?”

  “Oh fuck, this isn’t good. I knew you wouldn’t be able to resist going back in the field for long. Why the hell do you pick now and with something this crazy?”

  “I don’t pick the missions, Pierre. The missions pick me.”

  * * * *

  Mike’s phone rang, and he saw that it was a private number. He was getting nowhere with information on Amelia and Cavanaugh. Nothing was concrete.

  “Hello?”

  “I have information for you, and in order to ensure that the woman you’re searching for remains alive and in one piece, you’re going to do as I ask.”

  “Who is this?” he asked, raising his voice and drawing his brothers’ attention.

  “A friend who needs to remain anonymous. Listen, write it down and be ready to notify the friends you can trust to conduct this military operation accordingly.”

  Mike didn’t know why he listened, but as the person spoke to him, and he wondered if it were a male or a female trying to deepen her voice, it didn’t matter as they explained what was happening. He was shocked, but the information corresponded with what intel he and his friends had been gathering thus far.

  “That plane can not leave that hanger tonight. If Amelia is put on it, Wegman Vice will rape her, torture her, and either sell her to one of the slave traders he is involved with or just kill her. She’s part of the deal Cavanaugh has made to deliver stolen weapons to terrorist cells within the U.S.”

  “Holy shit. How do I know this is real and can trust you?”

  “Do you have any other options right now? Grab those SEALs you know and your fellow Special Forces friends and get a plan in motion. I make my move when the time is right. You don’t move onto that penthouse floor of the hotel until you get my signal.”

  “What the hell is the signal?”

  “You’ll know it when it happens.”

  “Shit. I don’t know about this.”

  “She dies and terrorists get their hands on heavy artillery and explosive devices. Now, are you an American soldier or what?” the voice asked.

  “Fuck, I can’t believe this. Okay, we’ll be ready. What else?”

  “I’ll text more info or get it to you another way. Not a word about me to anyone.”

  The call ended, and Mike stared at the phone for a moment then looked down at the paper he’d jotted stuff down on.

  “Well, who was that?” Phantom asked.

  “You won’t believe it.” He explained what had been said.

  “So we’re going to believe some person on the phone we don’t even know? It could be a trap to get us all killed,” Turner said.

  “Or it could be the only way to save Amelia and catch these assholes. The person seemed sincere, like they had a plan, too, and wanted to be anonymous. What if they’re working under cover or something and don’t want their cover blown? They got my number, and it’s the non-traceable line.”

  “Fuck, this is crazy shit. Local crazy shit.” Turner stood up.

  “Not so local. Get the guys on the line and have them meet us here at the barn. We’ll need to be ready and move out quickly. That hotel is thirty minutes from town.

  * * * *

  “Ahhh, even more stunning than the first time we met more than a year ago,” Wegman Vice said to Amelia.

  She recognized him immediately. The first time they’d met Cavanaugh had really laid on his possession of her, and Wegman seemed to find it mesmerizing. He didn’t take his eyes off of her, and he even stole a few caresses of her arm and her ass.

  She swallowed hard. This was the man she was supposed to obey, allow to touch her, ask things of her? She looked at Cavanaugh, and he narrowed his eyes at her and gave a gesture with his chin.

  She stepped forward and offered her hand to Wegman, which he took, brought to his lips, and kissed. His eyes focused on her breasts, and he squinted. “Come, we’ll have dinner and some drinks then discuss business.”

  As they headed out of the room and into the private elevator, Wegman changed positions and slid his arm around her waist. He looked down at her. He smelled of cologne and something strange like a seasoning or spice, which was pungent and sharp. He gazed down at her, and she felt his palm slide from her hip to her ass. She tightened up.

  “Relax,” Cavanaugh whispered, placing his hand under her hair against her neck.

  She felt terrible, disgusting, cheap, like some sort of object. Why was this happening to her? Why? The tears filled her eyes, but Cavanaugh’s grip tightened.

  The door chimed, and the security guys, who she assumed were with them, stepped out first. They were greeted by a man dressed in a white waiter’s uniform. His eyes landed on her, but then he immediately bowed to Wegman.

  “What are you looking at?” one of the guards asked in an angry tone.

  “It’s okay. She is quite beautiful and definitely gains the attention of all men. She is with us though,” Wegman said, and they continued to walk down a hallway to a set of double open doors.

  She could hear some music playing, as well as several voices. Was it a party? When the doors opened, her eyes went from one person to the next, from one scene to another, and she was mortified, shocked. What the hell kind of party was this?

  There were women half dressed. Some had their tops pulled down as men ate at dinner tables and conversed like the woman was part of the decoration. Amelia’s eyes went from one degrading scene to another. She stopped short, only for Wegman to pull her along with him. She looked up toward Cavanaugh, who looked thrilled with the scenes before him, and then he glanced at her as Wegman took a seat first.

  “As he says. Whatever he wants,” Cavanaugh said to her and then pointed for her to slide along the booth next.

  She hadn’t even finished sliding when she felt Wegman’s large, firm hand slide right to the slit in her dress. She widened her eyes, and his warm breath collided with her neck.

  “Look at me,” he said firmly. She slowly did, and all the saliva felt like it left her throat.

  He stared down into her eyes. He was a big man, too. She was in serious trouble here.

  “These eyes are incredible. My God, I’ve thought of you for months. Of your beauty and youthfulness. You’re going to love Syria, your new home.” He pressed his mouth to her lips, but she turned and his mouth hit her cheek and neck. Her eyes locked onto Cavanaugh.

  “Cavanaugh?”

  He trailed a finger along the rim of full glass of red wine, which the waiter just poured. He held her gaze, and she felt Wegman chuckle against her neck. His hand remained on her inner thigh, and she kept her legs crossed tightly, praying he wouldn’t try to feel her up.

  “Take your glass, Amelia,” Wegman said, and Amelia watched him lift his wine glass. She took hers, and he made a toast. “To business, and pleasure.” He eyed over her breasts then winked at Cavanaugh. They all took sips, and she didn’t want to, but Cavanaugh cleared his throat, so she did. Before she could even swallow, Wegman’s hand slid farther up her thigh, his fingertips at her panties, and she nearly spit out her wine.

  She didn’t know what she could do. She looked around the table as food they hadn’t ordered was brought over. She looked at the knives and wondered if she could grab one fast enough and cut Wegman’s throat and then Cavanaugh’s. Was she out of her mind? She wasn’t capable of killing.

  She was focused on that thought when she heard a cry then dishes crashing to the floor. A look to the right and a man in a suit with his pants down had a woman bent over the table and he was thrusting into her from behind.

  The tears filled her eyes, and Cavanaugh stroked her arm.

  “So is my Amelia not even more lovely than you remember, Wegman?” he asked and continued a pathway down her breast with the finger that had stroked her arm. She moved her shoulder, and he gripped her chin and forced her to look at him. His fingers dug into her jaw, and she couldn’t stop the tear that fell when he kissed her.

  “Oh, she is very, very lovely. Let’s discuss business, shall we?” Wegman said, and then Cavanaugh released her lips, and thankfully Wegman moved his hand from between her legs. She still felt the after-effects of his touch.

  “Keep drinking,” Cavanaugh said, and she looked at the wine.

  She had a funny feeling in her belly, but one look at Cavanaugh and she knew she had to drink it. Perhaps it would numb the effects of what surely was going to be hell. She took a sip of wine and let it glide down her throat. She wondered if Cavanaugh would really let Wegman take her away to Syria. Was he for real? As she lowered the glass, Cavanaugh tapped it. She took another sip, and the funny feeling got stronger. She leaned back and listened to them speaking about a deal. About guns, about organizations building their armies, and a cut of three million dollars.

  “Three million dollars?” she repeated, and Cavanaugh smirked, and then she felt the finger stroke her jaw. She turned to her left, and Wegman cupped her cheek.

  “Good call, Cavanaugh. She’s a bonus. The deal I will surely reap the benefits from.” He leaned forward and kissed her lips.

  She felt numb, almost like she wasn’t even in her body. Then she closed her eyes and leaned back. They continued to talk, and she would zone in and out, see them eating then drinking again. She felt the food at her lips and a fork, and she bit but didn’t even know if she chewed or not. Then she felt hands everywhere, and she pushed them away and knocked over the glass. Cavanagh got pissed, but Wegman chuckled.

  “Dessert. I can hardly wait any longer.”

  She was pulled up from the table by Cavanaugh. Her feet didn’t work, and he lifted her up into his arms, and she hugged him.

  “Do as he says. If you don’t resist, you’ll live longer,” he said to her, and then they were back in the elevator. He lowered her to her feet.

  Wegman pulled her from Cavanaugh. He cupped her breast, rubbed one hard, and kissed her. She felt how wrong this was, yet her mind and her body couldn’t react.

  Then he was pulling her along with him. She stumbled and fell, and Wegman gripped her up by her hair, and she screamed and cried, but still she was dizzy and confused. Doors opened, and she saw guards looking at her, and then she felt like she flew through the air. She bounced onto a bed. Cavanaugh was over her, unzipping her dress. She smacked at his hands and screamed for him to get away from her. She felt the prick to her neck.

  “Not too much or it will be like fucking a dead fish,” Wegman said.

  She slid away from Cavanaugh, and Wegman was almost completely undressed as she fell to the floor. Cavanaugh lifted her up. “Be ready to serve your new owner.”

  Her eyes zeroed in on the gun at his waist. She reached for it, and he struck her. She gripped it tight and pulled the trigger. She heard them yelling, and then she lifted it higher and pulled the trigger, hitting Cavanaugh. Wegman went running. She pulled the trigger and hit another guy. Maybe. She wasn’t sure, and she tried to focus on Cavanaugh as she shot again and again, and cried, and then there was clicking and no more loud noises. Suddenly she heard an explosion but didn’t know if it were real or not.

  Was she dreaming? She felt numb, her vision clouded as a multitude of men in black came running into the room. She pointed the gun and heard the yelling, and then she dropped the gun and teetered.

  “Amelia! Amelia!”

  She recognized the voice. “Fogerty.” She said his name, but her words were slurred. She saw angry faces. Dell, Watson, looking at her, holding her and fixing her dress. Then she saw Mike, Phantom, Selasi, and Thermo, and she closed her eyes. The voices echoed in her head, and she felt like falling, but strong arms lifted her up.

  “Drugs. They drugged her.”

  “Wine. In wine,” she said, but her eyes were rolling toward the back of her head.

  “Paramedics are coming up.”

  “Come on, baby. You’re safe now. It’s over,” Dell said and stroked her cheek, and that felt so odd to her.

  “Dell, Fogerty,” she said and then saw Watson. “Watson. Cavanaugh will kill you. You have to stay away. You have to stay away from me.” She felt the tears roll down her cheeks.

  “No more, sweetie. Cavanaugh can’t hurt you ever again. We’re going to take good care of you,” Fogerty said to her.

  Then she heard yelling. Something about more shots fired.

  “Get her to safety now,” Mike ordered, and she closed her eyes and was consumed with confusion and dizziness, and then darkness took over completely.

  * * * *

  April heard the calls over the earpiece but she was steps ahead of Wegman. He had been on the list for quite some time, and there was hearsay that he was the one that had caused the deaths of many other agents, including the ones she served with. She hid in the corner, dressed in a disguise, in a waiter’s uniform. No one would know if she was a male or a female. She knew the route this piece of shit took to escape in an emergency. He was a creature of habit, and that shit got you killed. She knew what he had done to Amelia. Had heard the play-by-play in her earpiece, and she wanted him dead, but the sneaky bastard got out of the penthouse before any of the men could get in there. She heard the yelling and the orders then Wegman’s voice as he came to the end of the hallway. There she stood, gun drawn, and his eyes went wide.

  “So we meet again, asshole,” she said to him.

  “You?” he replied and went to shoot her, but she was faster.

  She shot him right in the head. He fell back, and she made sure he was dead then heard more gunfire. She hit the elevator door, and just as she entered, she caught sight of the three Navy SEALs. Caden, Simon, and Aqua. She gave a thumbs-up, their eyes going to the dead body, and the doors closed. She immediately climbed up into the elevator shaft above, and as it moved lower and lower, she grabbed onto the bar and climbed up several feet until she reached the hatch. She got through, checked her surroundings, and then slid into the private hotel room. She didn’t even need to worry about the cameras. Everything was taken care of for her.

  “Rot in hell, you bastard. That was for Bo and Kona.”

  * * * *

  “Who the hell was that?” Aqua asked, and Caden spoke into his ear mic.

  “There’s a shooter. Someone killed Wegman and is in elevator three in the west wing, going down.” He looked at the numbers. “They should be stopping on the first floor. Grab them and detain them for questioning.”

  They heard more footsteps, and then others arrived to see that Wegman was dead.

  “The elevator is empty,” they all heard in their ears.

  Aqua, Caden, and Simon were shocked.

  “What the fuck was that all about?” Caden asked.

  But they were all quiet as they looked at Wegman and the bullet hole in his head.

  “Who gives a fuck? He’s dead,” one of the agents said, and Caden, Aqua, and Simon walked away, leaving them to handle the mess.

  They didn’t say a word, but Aqua knew they were all wondering who had shot Wegman and what was up with the thumbs-up sign, as if they knew who Aqua and his brothers were.

  “Wait, the call Mike got, maybe that was them? We did get the signal of the small explosion by the room closest to the elevator and penthouse. Maybe that person was the caller?” Simon said.

  “Well, they didn’t shoot at us. They killed Wegman, so they must be one of the good guys,” Aqua said.

  “One hell of a shot, too,” Caden said.

  “Whatever. It’s done, and Cavanaugh is dead, too, and Amelia is safe. Watson, Fogerty, and Dell are going to have their hands full. I don’t know how Amelia is going to deal with all of it,” Aqua said.

  “She’ll have the three of them and her friends,” Caden added.

  “Speaking of her friends, think April will be at Corporal’s again any time soon?” Aqua asked.

  “She didn’t seem too keen on making new friends,” Simon added.

  “Well, we aren’t too interested in anything serious. Let’s leave it at that.” Caden told them.

  They agreed, but Aqua honestly hoped that Aril would be there. The woman was gorgeous and sexy, and she smelled really good, too. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had affected him like that. Hopefully they would see her again and maybe make some progress.

  * * * *

  “The doctor said it’s pretty bad shit. It’s like an opioid but was laced with something else. He said perhaps like a date rape drug but stronger. He feels when she does wake up she won’t remember what happened if it was laced with that,” Watson told Dell and Fogerty.