Charity's Secrets (34 page)

"It's
all bullshit!" I blurt out. Justin and Garrett both stare at me.
"He's a con. None of these women are real. Maybe they were at one time;
he's stolen their identities, collecting their checks, taking the tax breaks.
The whole damn thing is a con."

I quickly
hang up with Lena and fill the boys in. Suddenly we all feel better about what
we are about to do.

He's
alone in there. This is going to be quick and easy.

"Can
we get this done now?" Garrett begs, anxious for revenge.

Justin
nods and gets out of the truck. A blast of biting cold rushes in through the
open door. He looks even larger than he is, dressed completely in black, his
body completely sure of itself and in control.

My
heart is racing.

He must
see my face, because he smiles at me and pokes his head back in through the
open door. His beautiful lips approach mine, igniting my desire as my mouth
readies for his taste. The heat of his lips presses into mine, warming me
quickly.

"Be
safe," I whisper after his mouth pulls away from me.

"Always,
Warrior." His face lights up with his cocky little smirk.

Garrett
hops out next to him, his breath blowing out in thick white clouds.

"When
we get to the doors, I'll radio when it's a go. Once we go in, it's radio
silence. No one makes a sound until we call it clear from inside.
Understood?"

Both
Garrett and I nod, but my face is nervous and his is excited.

I watch
them move on the house as I take the driver's seat, ready in case they come out
in a hurry. Garrett heads to the back as they planned while Justin crouches on
the dark front porch, hidden by a rusty chair.

The ten
count passes as I survey the house and all its windows.

"Good?"
Justin asks over the radio.

Garrett
should reply first to confirm he's ready, then me that the house still has no
movement inside.

"Good,"
Garrett confirms.

It's on
me now. A feeling of responsibility washes over me as I send my greatest love
into danger. "Good."

I
should have lied and kept them safe!

Justin
quietly picks the front door lock and goes in. Garrett would have been doing
the same in back.

Suddenly,
I'm all alone.

As I
stare, unable to blink, the tiny rectangle windows of the basement lights up.
It hasn't done that all fucking day or night!

Someone
is still awake!

I can’t
even warn them, and it quickly gets worse as I see a shadowy silhouette moving
around in the light.

Alex
Bremer is not the only one home!

My
throat closes, and my ears are filled with a piercing ring. Neither of those
things stop me from jumping out of the truck and running to the house.

I leap
up the porch and grab the door handle. It strikes me right now that if I rush
in like this, one of my own could shoot me by mistake.

I slow
the fuck down, turning the handle deliberately, pushing the door open.

There's
nothing but darkness inside the tiny, cluttered living room. It smells
terrible, like the house is full of sweaty men.

The Sig
p226 that Justin had trained me on for protection is now out in front of me
doing its job at the end of my arms. I close the door and silently move across
the room.

Nobody
is making a fucking sound, which sucks for me because I don't know where anyone
is if I can’t see or hear them. I am pretty sure everyone in the entire house
can hear my heart beating though. I put my back against the wall near the
doorway to another room and listen.

Suddenly
I hear someone just on the other side of my wall. I don't know if it's Alex,
Justin, or Garrett.

What
the hell am I doing here?

They're
getting closer to the edge.

I
slouch down to the worn carpet on one knee, praying they don't hear me move.
I'll need the advantage from being low.

There's
a creak from above, someone standing on a loose floorboard on the seconds
floor.

Everyone
freezes, the whole damn house turns eerily silent. The only thing I can hear
now is the air from the heater blowing through the vents in a hollow sounding
hum and a ringing in my head.

Tense
moments pass.

Someone
is going to have to make a move. My gun is aimed at the edge of the wall about
eighteen inches away from me and I'm pretty sure eighteen inches on the other
side is a gun aimed at me.

I can
wait all fucking night, but I don't think we will.

That
dirty smell is suddenly much stronger.
God!
It's fucking horrible. It
wasn't this strong at first.

Feet
shuffle along the floor just behind my wall. Closer! A shadow, a simple dark
blotch on a dark rug, breaks across the imaginary divide between the two rooms.

I take
aim, just in case it's not one of my boys.

The
ringing in my ears becomes God awful the more that I strain to listen.

From
over my head I hear two very muffled
pops
—the distinct sound of gunfire
through a silencer.

Feet
shuffle closer to the edge and stop again.

My
radio chirps.

I'd
forgotten about it hanging from my belt loop. Whoever is just beyond my wall
must have heard it; they have to know I'm here now.

Justin's
voice follows the short burst of static. "Clear!"

Justin
is upstairs and Alex Bremer is dead, but whoever is on the other side of the
wall doesn't have a radio. Only mine went off.

It
isn't Garrett!

"Are
you in the house?" Justin suddenly demands after another quick chirp. He
must have heard the echo from my radio from upstairs, and I can hear the fear
in his voice.

"Whoever
you are," I say loudly, loud enough for the entire house. "Come out now!"
I know Justin and Garrett heard me; I hear their excited feet above me. I can
picture them carefully moving back toward a staircase now that they know we are
not alone.

The
feet shuffle again, and I see several fingers wrap around the edge of the wall
in the darkness.

My
fucking heart!

That
awful smell!

The
fucking ringing!

"Come
out!" I order despite it all.

I hear
the guys coming down some stairs in some other part of the house.

The
feet shuffle into the room with me.

"Are
you going to help us?" A tiny, shaky voice asks in the dark.

My
weapon is aimed right between the two absolutely huge, terrified eyes of a
frail young girl.

"We
need someone to help," she says.

The
boys are coming up behind me now. I thrust my left hand back at them, signaling
them not to move, not to come any closer.

Frantically,
I work to remember the name from Alex's tax papers, and it finally comes to me.
"Marley?"

This malnourished,
nervous girl slowly nods her head. Her skin is paper thin and so white she
almost seems to glow in the darkness. Her eyes are surrounded in thick black
rings, and I realize that horrible smell has gotten so much worse now because it’s
her.

Carefully,
I lower my gun and signal for the guys behind me to do the same. I believe I
already know the terrible truth of this little girl.

"Honey,
is your mother downstairs in the basement?" I ask softly.

A tear
falls from one of her eyes as she nods again.

"Is
she alive?"

"Yes,
but she can't move. She's chained up. He keeps her that way so he can hurt her
if I try to leave," she cries softly.

I
swallow, hard, trying to fight my emotions. "Is your grandmother down
there too?"

Marley's
face drops toward the floor. She nods, but it's full of grief. That sick
fucking bastard let her die down there and left the body to rot in front of
them.

I turn
around to see Justin and Garrett. Their faces are twisted up in anguish and
disbelief. "What do we do?" I ask as I stand back up.

Neither
of them do a thing for a minute, then Justin takes out his phone and dials.
"Lena—change of plans. Bremer is dead but the girl and her mother are
alive." He lets Lena have a moment of shock, like the rest of us are
having. "Get a few of the men over here,
quietly
. We're going to
move them out. Start an account for them as well—we'll find out where they want
to go. Get a place for them for tonight and get a counselor. They're gonna need
to get cleaned up. He had them prisoner here Lena, so you can imagine what they
need."

I get
it. It's the best thing for them. We can't call the police, we just
assassinated Alex Bremer in his bed. This way, they won't have the news in
their face while they're trying to recover. They will have the best therapy,
not just some state worker. And most of all, Justin will make sure they have a
place to live and won't need for a thing. It's much better than what the state
would have given.

"Are
we gonna get to see the outside now?" Marley asks in her tiny voice.

My
heart breaks. She's never been past this room in her life, I'm sure of it.

I step
over to her, ignoring the awful smell, and I hold out my hand toward her.
Marley eagerly grabs my fingers, hungry for some compassion, and begins to cry
harder.

"Can
you take me to your mother, sweetie? We should make sure she's okay too and get
her out of those chains."

OUR MARK FINALLY CAME
out of the bar. Justin has taken the second seat on this
one, letting Garrett run it with his guidance. Garrett had proved himself as
the trigger man on Alex Bremer, one in the head, one in the heart.

Justin
trusts him now.

He
trusts me to be here as well. Twice I've helped when things didn't go according
to plan. That isn't luck in Justin's eyes. He was further impressed by how I
handled myself, that I had the balls to go in despite the extreme danger, and
that I had the reserve to wait and not blow away whoever was behind the wall
without first seeing their face.

We wait
until he reaches the middle of the block. There's much less visibility there.

Garrett
hears the signal over his earpiece and rounds the corner heading for the mark,
head down, unassuming. His mark sees him, but pays no mind to the man in the
dark jeans and heavy jacket under a Yankees cap.

They
march closer toward each other and this time my nerves are much calmer. My job
is simple; pull his hands together behind his back and snap a pair of cuffs
around his wrists, then his ankles. He won't be fully conscious or fighting me.

Justin
is driving. A soldier named Malcolm sits right behind Justin on my left, ready
at the door.

The
mark staggers a bit from all he drank before coming out. He looks like any
other guy coming out of a bar and I have to remind myself that six months ago
he was Jesse Simpson's cellmate. He was in for stabbing a rival over ownership
of a corner. It was his fourth time in for a violent offense, and he just did
eight years for it before being paroled. Three years at the end there were with
Jesse. Word is they got tight, fast, and stayed that way. Justin is sure this
guy brings us to Jesse.

Justin
puts the truck into drive, pulls away from the curb and starts heading for
them. Garrett is next to him in another step, sliding his hand and a needle out
of his pocket in a smooth, fluid motion. He jabs it into the mark's neck and
pumps it empty while we pull up next to them with Malcolm already swinging the
door wide.

Our
mark is instantly doped. Garrett gives him a wicked push toward the open door,
where Malcolm grabs his shoulders and drags him in across his lap. The smell of
alcohol is heavy on him, quickly filling the truck.

I grab
and pull one arm behind him and snap a cuff around his wrist, but his other arm
is under him. Malcolm moves him enough that I pull the arm free and cuff it to
his other. Then Malcolm throws him to the floor and Garrett climbs into the
truck with us, carelessly stepping on our drunk mark in the process.

As
Malcolm is shutting the door, I'm snapping handcuffs on to the marks ankles.
He's out freakin' cold.

We pull
away unseen and drive out of the neighborhood, out of the city.

"MAYBE HE REALLY DOESN'T
know where the fuck he is!"
Garrett says, his chest heaving up and down as he tries to catch his breath.
His arms are exhausted, hands sore.

"He
does," Justin says with a smile. "He knows exactly where Jesse
is."

Garrett
defends. "No—I'm not so sure. He should have given it up by now if he
did."