FIRE (Elite Forces Series Book 2) (2 page)

I try like hell to open my eyes with no luck.  The vile smell of piss and stale cigarettes fills the air around me.  At least that sense is still working, because I sure as hell can hardly see.  And god, that smell is enough to make a dead man choke.

I’m thankful for the fucker who cut the rope off me before he shoved my face into the concrete floor.  My wrists are fucking raw and my skin burns from the friction of the rope.  Dried blood coats the welts left behind from them wrangling the hell out me.    Sliding across the floor to a corner, I try to pull together an ounce of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation.  

I still can't see, so I begin blinking profusely, working to add moisture. 
Fuck
.  My eyes are so dry it feels like fucking sandpaper every time I move my eyelids.  Hell, I know this is just the beginning of it.  I can feel deep in the depth of my soul that this will be the worst shit I've ever dealt with.  I just wish I could tell these fuckers to bring it.  I'm ready, assholes.  Try all you want, but you will never break me.  You can’t break something that’s already broken. 

I work to roll out the kinks in my neck from sleeping on the floor of this shitty cell.  I’m still trying to pry my eyes open fully, but the dirt in the air and the dryness all around me do nothing to bring moisture to these bitches.

“Come on.  Open.  I fucking need you,” I whisper, as if demanding my eyes to open will work.  The more they open, the more I'm blinded by the scorching sun.  My voice sounds like shit because I'm thirsty as fuck.  I manage to work them into a sliver, and that's about all I can handle as I wait for them to adjust. My head nearly explodes from the sudden rush of light. 
Shit.

Every part of my body aches, but it doesn’t stop me from standing.  I want nothing more than to be prepared for what happens next.  I need to know my surroundings, even if it's a fucking nine-by-nine goddamn cage.  Knowledge is key in situations like this.  That and patience. 

My internal compass needs to know the direction they took me last night.  I start to relive their every move as they tossed me into the back of a flatbed truck right after they stripped me bare of all my equipment, then tossed me around like a fucking rag doll.  Fuckers stole my guns and every damn thing I owned except the clothes on my back.  I hope like hell I have the honor to make them all pay for what they've done, because they can bet their asses I’m keeping score. 

My eyes adjust even more as I move through the cage and work my way to the steel bars holding me here.  My hands grip the bars tightly, and I imagine them slipping around the neck of whoever the hell is in charge here.  Nothing would make me happier than squeezing the life out of any of the cock-sucking bastards who even think about keeping me locked here.  They’ll die if I'm given the slightest chance.  The entire group of them will.

It’s fucking hot and it's only mid-morning by the way the sun appears halfway in the clear, blue sky.  I’m east of where we were.  How far, I have no clue.  Thank god for my inner compass keeping me somewhat informed, even if it’s only giving me the slightest clues.

From what I can see, there isn’t a damn thing around, except for a small house that looks like it could crumble to the ground at any minute.  The dirty siding is hanging halfway off, and most of the windows are broken.  The goddamn smell is enough to keep everything away from here.  It literally smells like rotting shit.  I’ve got to be on some rundown farm or an old plantation of some kind that’s embedded deep in the woods by the looks and amount of trees off in the short distance.  It's a real piece of shit place, telling me there won’t be any visitors anytime soon, so my hope for an escape is diminishing.

I inhale once more, hoping to smell my Jade, but I only smell them.  The stench in the air tells me they're close, and no matter how much I prepare for them, I know this is going to be the worst kind of hell.

Backing away from the heat, I begin to pace and think of a way out of here, but I have nothing.  All I can think about is Jade.  Her screams haunt me, and I can still feel her cries deep inside.  Her threats for them not to leave me were serious, and I know she gave them hell like they’ve never thought possible.  She is one stubborn woman, and that's just one of the many reasons why I fell for her.

There isn’t a thing I don’t love about her.  If I'm lucky enough to get out of here, those will be the first words she hears from me.  Then her sexy ass will be heaved up over my shoulder, and we will get away from everyone for a long time.

I run my hands down my face, thinking about the plans we were making.  If only it really were that easy for us to be able to get away.  We would have worked it out somehow, and now these piece of shit motherfuckers who stand in my way of freedom and happiness need to die.

My torn-up feet slap against the concrete as I move around without a single stitch of grace.  They stole my boots.  Either they wanted them, or they know damn well I’ll try to escape the first chance I get.  My guess is the latter.  I’ll give them credit for the only smart thing they could’ve done.  They obviously have no idea who they’ve successfully kidnapped.  They could strip me bare, and I would still do everything in my power to gut them and enjoy every fucking minute of it.

Jade.  Fuck
.  I can’t get her out of my mind, not that I want to.  I want nothing more than to get back to her and my family.  I just have to endure whatever these assholes have in store for me first.

Sweat starts to drip down my back and face.  I move to sit back in the opposite corner away from the sun because I need my strength.  Every.  Last.  Bit.

With my knees drawn up, I place my head against the wall and clench my hands in front of me.  I work to think of my favorite times with her.  As sick and morbid as it is, my cock becomes hard when I envision the last time I was inside her.  The way she looked at me like I was her every damn thing.  The way she finally gave in to her feelings and surrendered.

For the first time in my life, I have someone who I want nothing more than to share it with, to give her my all, and to hopefully someday watch her belly grow large with my child.  I'd love to listen to her laugh right now.  Hell, I'd love to fucking fight with her.  Then we can make up.  Shit, thinking about make-up sex has my dick twitching.  She'd be feisty as fuck, trying to forgive me for whatever dumb shit I did, while I fuck her in the best way possible.  I know I could shut her up.  I have a way with her. 

Oh, my Jade.  She’s so damn beautiful.  I can feel her strength and determination sitting here.  My head snaps up just as I think it.  I open my eyes when I hear the word determination in my mind and think about the last words I heard her say.

She begged them to go back and not leave me.  They better have strapped her ass down and made her leave with them.  She can be a hellion, but I think the guys can handle her.  Harris will protect her and I know my guys will too, especially Kase.  He will for the very reason that I asked him to.

The thought of her being out here all alone sends a chill through my body.  I know her.  She'll stop at nothing to try to save me.  They all will when it comes down to it.  I know damn well it killed them to leave me behind, but they had to.  I get it.  Even though it would have broken me to leave one of them, I would have done the same thing.  Get the target back to the States and then turn around and come for them with or without the help of the government.

She would’ve been the exception to that rule, and I’d be lying if I told myself any different.  I’m afraid I would’ve taken us all straight back into hell just to get her.

*****

“Fuck,” I mutter into this shithole.  I must’ve drifted to sleep.  The heat is so intense it’s nearly suffocating me to death.  If this is the way they think they can torture me, then they’re idiots.  I’ve survived in the desert and sweat my balls off for weeks on end.  I’ve shit in places they’ve never dreamed of and even went days without food or water while the need to kill the enemy outweighed my thirst and starvation.

My eyes open wider now.  Thank Christ.  I know it's mid-afternoon without even having to stand up to look; the shadows casting on the opposite wall tell me.

It’s then that I hear voices outside, growing closer.  Their foreign words rattle off in my brain.  I don’t have a damn clue what they are saying. 
Fucking pussies.

Then I finally see them.  They stare me down and I do the same.  My will to survive glares back at them without any regrets.  I feel like a hard, cold killer, and I can tell by the way they’re looking at me they think they have me right where they want me.

I watch them and they watch me.  They stand there in green army uniforms, talking like the trash they are.  Assault rifles hang over their shoulders, and I begin to laugh in a very hideous voice.

“You can take that bottle of water you have in your hand and shove it straight up your ass, motherfucker,” I say with my focus trained on the one with the bald head showing under his faded, red bandana he has tied into a fucking do-rag.  His beard is unkempt, and I’d love to scalp it right off of his fucking face.  His dark-black eyes are shooting bullets into my skull, and if looks could truly kill, I’d be dead on the spot.

It’s time to make a move and piss these men off.  If I piss them off enough, they’ll make a mistake, and I just need one of them to fuck up for just one single second.

I stand tall with my shoulders squared back and my head held high, showing off the confident man I am.  They have another thing coming if they think they can intimidate me.  Hell, no. 

My hands go to the zipper of my black cargo pants, while both of them watch in astonishment as I whip out my cock, take the two steps toward the bars to get to them, and piss all over their feet.

“Fuck you.” My voice is deep, and stoic, and full of meaning.

The one I feel to be weak jumps back, cursing I assume, then walks away.  Dick.  While the idiot who continues to stare me down stands there until I finish and tuck myself back into my pants.  He’s probably some gay motherfucker that liked what he saw. 

“You’re brave.” His speech is slurred and his accent is heavy as he takes a step toward me.

“You’re dead.”  I’m glad to know he speaks English, even if he does a shitty job of it.  It’ll be better if he understands me.

“I’m not the one who’s baking in the sun like a dead fish.”  He speaks with as much hatred for me as I have for him.

“Trust me.  Once I shit down your throat and slice your head off, you’ll be the one rotting like a dead fish,” I talk through disgust and slowly emphasize on the word ‘dead’.

This man and I battle over control even though he thinks I can’t do shit while I’m caged in here.  I only hope they make the mistake of assuming that.  I’d love to prove to them that I’m the one who should be feared.

I’m a retired American soldier who has trained and worked his entire career to know what to do in a situation like this.  I’ve specialized in this shit.  I look forward to the moment they drop their guard and I get to show them just how experienced I am at this.  They want me to get tired and let my guard down, but I won’t.  I’ll pretend to, but I never will. 

Let’s play, motherfuckers.  They may outnumber me and hell, may even get the privilege of torturing me, but these bastards will never fucking break me.

“He warned us about you.”  He smiles, showing off his yellow teeth and proving his terrible hygiene while he stands in front of me like I’m supposed to know who the hell he’s talking about.  One thing is for sure; this fucker is taunting me.  I’ll play his game and be more than happy to show him what danger he’s truly in.  Besides, curiosity has me intrigued with who’s in charge here.  I’d love to know how the fuck they know who I am.

“Who, fuckface?”  I stare him down, boldly demanding him to answer my question. 

“You’ll see.”  What a pussy.  This man is about to die in less than sixty seconds.  I’ve been waiting until he got close enough, but now it’s time to move.  While my eyes stay focused on his, I never move from the tiny, black dots of his bloodshot pools the whole time I devise my plan.  My hands slither down the rusted bar, and he doesn’t see it coming until it’s too late.

The knife he had sheathed in his gun belt is now in my left hand, while I grip his throat with the other.  Like I said, I’m experienced with this shit.  It’s too late for this man to try to sputter off shit in my language.  He tries, but I tighten my grip and set the blade even closer to his neck.

“You scream, and I slice your fucking throat.” He clears his throat the best he can, but the pressure I’m applying on his Adam's apple will have him dead in a matter of seconds.  His eyes begin to bulge, while the knowledge of death begins to contort his face.  He knows I’m killing him, and my heart begins to feel alive once again.

“Who the hell are you talking about?” I demand.  This is his last chance to speak before he dies.  The dire need to kill someone has taken over, and I’ll be ready for the next one to come near my fucking cage.

“You’ll see,” he says once again.  I snap then.  This man is gone.  Let him rot and stink up this fucking place even more than it already does.

While my hand squeezes more, his life quickly comes to an end.  I lift the knife in the air while my mind loses control.  I have it in me to slice and stab him over and over for having anything to do with locking me in this fucking cage.  I’ve done it before and I will do it again after this one.  I’ll do whatever it takes to survive and get back to her.

His knees start to buckle, and urine covers his pale green pants.  He needs to suffer more, and I watch in awe when the knife jabs into his tanned skin.  My fingers lift one at a time as the knife glides across his throat.  His blood oozes out and begins to bubble as its warmth mixes with this intense heat of the thick, heavy air.

I hold him upright while he chokes and gasps for his last bit of air.  Blood coats my fingers and the color red spurs me on even more.  I wish I was holding a gun in my hand to bring down every damn one of them out here, instead of this joke of a knife.

I scoff when I know he's dead.  My arm is no longer strong enough to hold his dead weight through these bars, so I let him fall to the ground, hoping his soul is on its way straight to hell.

That’s when I hear the voice of the man I haven’t spoken to in years.

My fucking brother.

“Nice kill.”  Those are the words he says to me after not seeing him for years.  The last time we spoke was when I hauled his ass out of a drug-infested home.   He had a needle dangling out of his arm and puke all over his clothes.  He was foaming at the mouth and not even coherent.  For years, we tried to help him get his shit together. 

I’ve shoved aside how I feel about losing my blood brother, but I will never forget the sobs, the prayers, and the way my mother blamed herself continuously for the way Ty lived his life.  My mother lost her will to fight after the third time she convinced him to enter rehab, only for him to get out and jump right back in with the same crowd he ran around with.  Dealers.  Whores.  Cold-blooded murderers.  He’s a pathetic disgrace to mankind, and now here he is, looking straight at my blood-covered hands.

“Walk closer, you crazy fuck.  Let me do the same to you.” I practically growl out my words through the hatred in my heart.  I don’t give a fuck if I carve his smug face up.  The drugs have done a number on his sorry ass anyway.  He’s a few years younger than I am, but you sure as shit couldn’t tell by looking at him.  His once wrinkle-free skin is worn and crow’s feet rest at the corners of his malice-filled eyes.

He’s clean though and freshly shaved, which is more than I could say about him the last few times I saw him.  His hair is slightly damp, and I can smell the soap from here.  He smells as though he’s just come from the shower.  My own body itches to wash off this place’s disgusting odor.

“Drop the motherfucking knife, Kaleb, or I’ll shoot you with your own fucking gun.”  He whisks my pistol out of the back of his pants.  The silver metal of the barrel shines daringly in the heat of the sun as I watch his cocky-ass smile on his face.  He’s loving this.

I weigh out my options, which are fucking slim.  I know he’d love to shoot me and would probably announce to the world he’s the one who had the honor. 

I drop the knife, and the loud clank of the small blade echoes in the tiny cell as it crashes to the cement floor.  I’m not giving up.  I’m playing his game.  I want my hands on this fucker.  He knows it too by the way he walks toward me.  He’s scared, as he should be.  That’s why he has me caged up.

“How are mom and Amelie these days?” he asks with not a damn ounce of sincerity in his tone.  I say nothing. Instead, I cross my arms over my chest.  I’m done talking.  No way will I feed into his shit, nor will I have a friendly long-time-no-see conversation with him.

“I don’t have time for you to answer me anyway.  I’m about to fuck up your life, Kaleb.  Mom’s little golden boy.  How does it feel to know that perfect fucking life you live is about to be over?”  I seethe inside as I listen to his confidence.  “Mom considers me dead. Well, it’s about time to show her what dead really looks like.”  He stops walking to speak directly in front of me.  “I wonder what she’ll think when she opens the box with your fucking head in it.”  His eyes stare into mine, and I want to fucking rip them out of his face and force them down his throat.  He knows our mother is a sore spot with me, and I know he’ll use her to try to get through to me. 
Thank fuck he doesn’t know about Jade.

He watches me as he dials a number on his phone.

“Get someone down here and bury Raphael.  His weak ass is dead thanks to my brother.  Preferably Chico, since he was sent down here and obviously took off like a motherfucking chicken.  Then, when he’s done digging the grave, shoot him and bury them both.”  He snaps his cheap burner phone shut.  He keeps the gun trained on me as he bends down and grabs the dead man by his hair.  His unfocused, dead eyes are wide open and staring off into space as he drags him off to the side.

“Now, time for some fun.  Since you seem to be some badass military expert, shackle yourself.” He drops a duffle bag down and pulls out a set of shackles.  He throws them on the ground in front of the cell and stares at me to move.

“Do it, Kaleb, or I swear I’ll shoot you then cut your pretty boy head from your body.  I’m itching to cut that fucking mom tattoo off your skin and ship them both to her.”  I’d be a fool to admit that every time he says ‘mom’ I cringe inside.  There’s something in the way he looks at me.  His gaze is void of any emotion or sign that we have the same blood running through our veins at all.

I do as I’m told, but I take my time.  He steps in closer when I’m bent down, cuffing my legs together.  He steps on the knife and slides it out of my reach.  
Smart man.

Still saying nothing, I lift up and the chains hang free.  I clamp one against one wrist then shrug. 
Fuck him.
 He can do the other.  Ty tucks my gun in the front of his pants, leans in with sturdy hands, and locks it in place, then steps back as we both turn our heads to the sound of men approaching.

Their Spanish words throw chaos into an otherwise silent room.  They converse back and forth with my brother.  His mouth moves and his nostrils flare.  Then out of nowhere, he backhands the asshole that was here earlier with the butt of my gun.  The gun busts open his cheek, and blood instantly drips over his mouth.  

My brother surprises me with his raw violence.  His actions are ruthless, which proves he's so far gone from reality there's no getting through to him.  I’m positive about one thing, I want my damn gun back.  If I make it out of here alive, that’s the weapon my brother is going to die from as I take my last step from this fucking filthy shithole.

“Get him out of there.  Wrap this around him first.”

“You afraid to do it yourself?”  My silence wavers.

“Nah, man.  If these assholes want to be fed and keep fucking their wives, then they do as they’re told.  Otherwise, they die.  Then I’ll fuck their wives.  Isn’t that what a good leader does, brother?  They give orders, and their servants do what they say?”  The slimy bastard is trying to push my buttons and make me angry.  His provoking won’t work.

“Nah, man.  That’s not how it goes at all.  You see, in my army, in my country, we kill the enemy, not our brothers.” I’m not even going to respond to his comment about what he might do to women. That will fester inside of me until I rip him apart.  His brows quirk up.  I know damn well he understands my meaning when he blinks several times.  His throat bobs up and down as he contemplates his next sentence to me.  He may be my blood brother, but the men I serve with know what it’s like to be a real fucking brother.

“You think they’ll come back for you, don’t you?  They may, but they’ll never find you.  I’m going to torture you, Kaleb.  In ways you’ve never heard of, never seen, and never even knew existed.”  Ty is so full of hatred as he begins to bark out his disgust for me.

“Strip his clothes off,” my brother demands one of his coward followers to come near me after he unlocks the small door.  I’m escorted out of the cell with my own gun aimed right at me.

The light is blinding to my sensitive eyes.  The butt of a gun is shoved into my back as we walk several yards.  We stumble toward a tree with a rope hanging down from a sturdy branch.  
Awe, shit.
 

He’s going to leave me out here, baking in the sun, after he fucks me up.  
Fuck.

His stupid subjects cut my damn clothes right off of my body, the knives digging into my skin as they do, and I continue to keep score.  I can feel the blood slowly trailing down my arms and legs. 
Goddamn, these fuckers are going to pay.

A knife lies at the base of my throat while they unhook the cuffs from my arms.  Determination courses through my veins as I look for my out.  I could kill one or two of these fuckers before my brother shoots me, but I’m better off letting him bring his torture on while praying like a bitch my team is on their way back here by now.  I know their training will lead them to me.

I’m standing naked in front of these bastards.  My legs are still bound together by the chains as they draw my arms up tight with the rope.  I will my dick to fucking tuck itself into my body and pray they don’t do what I would do if the roles were reversed right now.  
Fuck.

“I was one happy motherfucker when I got the call they had you.  My piece-of-shit brother sniffing around in my world.”  He moves in closer to my face, spitting each word at me.  Come closer, asshole.  Come an inch fucking closer.  There's a little army here to watch the show, but he's the only one I need to focus on.

“If I gave you one call, would it be to our sweet mother?  Would you call to tell her that her piece-of-shit son has you bound to a tree with your dick hanging there, lifeless, knowing your fate?  Or would you call that sexy little Sniper you had with you?”  My gut twists as he probes for the tiniest clue that she's a weakness.  I will never show emotion when he talks about her.  Thank fuck I'm experienced with this shit.  I remain quiet and wait for what he has next. He may think he knows what the hell he’s doing, but he’ll make a mistake.  And by god, when he does, I’ll make my move.

“Where did they take him?”  He starts to pace in front of me, and I stay stone-cold.  He’ll never get me to talk, and he knows this.

One of the guys hands him a whip, and I take a deep breath right before the leather lands across my upper thighs, missing my dick by about an inch.  
Fucking hell.
  Let it begin.  I swallow the pain and hold my breath, while I prepare my mind for more torture.

“I'm not going to ask you again after this.  You’ll get one question a day.  You’ll eventually talk, or you’ll hang here, withering away until you die.”

“Where did you fucking take him?”  I prepare myself for the next blow, but fail.  My eyes slam closed as the pain rushes through my body and the feeling of my skin ripping open pierces through me.  This time, he didn't miss. The tip of the whip cracked right across the head of my dick.

I've drawn my legs up with the natural instinct to protect myself, causing my arms to pull tight with the weight of my body.  My skin begins to stretch, and pain spreads over me entirely.  I eventually lower my legs again to stop the stretching, but the urge to vomit still fills me.

“The strong brother.  Looks like a fucking pussy to me.”  He cracks the whip again, fucking hitting me in the same spot, and I can't stop from bending into the fetal position again.  Drawing my legs up as I try to comprehend the insanity going through my mind opens me up to even more torture.  My eyes pinch tight, and I’m barely breathing through this nightmare.