Forced to Kill (20 page)

“Harv, we’re on. Grangeland, suit back up.”

She sprinted to the corner of the warehouse.

He secured the grappling hook to the parapet and descended the rope. Once on the ground, he coiled the rope and threw it over the top. If anyone drove by, he didn’t want them seeing it.

Ninety seconds later, Grangeland and Harv were at the front door ready to go.

A thumping music beat emanated from inside—probably rap.

He looked at Harv and they pulled suppressed Sigs from their belly packs. Nathan wasn’t worried about the 9-millimeter subsonic rounds being powerful enough. They’d used them many times and never had a problem. Body armor protected against center-mass shots, but he didn’t expect his adversaries would be wearing any, especially inside the warehouse. Besides, he and Harv were quite capable of making head shots if needed.

“Lasers on. Harv, you take the right. Grangeland, you’ve got the left. I’ll take the middle of the room. We need prisoners. Grangeland, your weapon isn’t suppressed, so hold your fire unless absolutely necessary.”

He pressed the doorbell button.

It produced a muffled ring like an oversized egg timer.

On the left side of the door, he flattened himself against the wall.

Harv tucked in tight behind him.

The location of the doorknob and the exterior jamb indicated the door would swing inward, toward the right. If anyone cracked the door, he and Harv were on the concealed side. The door would have to be opened at least twelve inches for anyone to peer out and look in their direction. By then it would be too late.

The Spanish accent from the tiny speaker next to the door sounded metallic and slightly amused. “
What you want?
”

“I got stood up down the street. Let’s party.”

“
Go away.
”

“Come on, man, it’s cold out here. I need the money. Hundred bucks for all night.”

A pause. “
What do we get
?”

“Everything.”

“
All of us
?”

“How many?”

“
Four.
”

“Make it two hundred and you got a deal.”

Another pause. They were probably discussing it.

A few seconds later, he heard the dead bolt click.

Then a scraping, metallic sound of something else sliding.

The door swung inward.

Chapter  28

The staccato thumping of rap music poured out the door and slammed every building in the alley. Nathan slid past Grangeland and kicked the door.

The man on the other side flew backward as its metal surface hammered his face. The handgun he’d been holding clattered away.

Nathan rushed inside with Harv and Grangeland on his six. He sensed Harv boot the door and heard it slam closed.

Blood gushing from his destroyed nose, the man tried to get up.

Nathan pistol-whipped him, the impact loud and wet. Door man went limp and collapsed to the concrete floor. It wasn’t Montez.

He caught movement on his right.

Another man.

     Running. Right to left. Without a shirt. Short. Muscular. Heavy gold chains flopped as he sprinted across the room. Also not Montez.

“I’ve got him,” Harv said.

Nathan watched a red dot form on the running man’s hip.

Harv’s Sig spit flame.

Gold chains tumbled. The wounded man howled and clasped a hand on his left hip.

A third man sitting on a sofa directly in front of them lunged for a handgun on a coffee table.

They fired simultaneously.

Two red holes replaced two red dots, both in roughly the same location, upper right shoulder. Sofa man fell back and cursed in Spanish.

Nathan felt it more than he saw it.

A fourth threat. From above.

Second floor. Far corner of the warehouse. A man stood on a railed walkway, leveling an assault rifle.

Montez? No choice. Fractions of seconds mattered. He painted his laser center mass, and fired.

The man jerked at the same instant his rifle discharged.

The bullets impacted high and right, but the sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Grangeland bent over and protected her eyes as chunks of concrete rained down.

Harv sent a second bullet and scored a hit. The man slumped forward and cartwheeled over the rail. Cranium and metal smacked the concrete at the same time, the sounds indistinguishable.

They moved deeper into the warehouse, scanning for additional threats. None appeared.

That damned noise had to go. Nathan placed the laser on the stereo cabinet against the side wall and fired. The glass imploded and the music died with a static thump. Thirteen rounds left. Harv also had thirteen.

“Grangeland, cover our six. I’m on gold chains,” he said and rushed forward to the squirming man.

He knew Harv would advance to sofa man’s position because door man was either unconscious or dead. In less than ten seconds, they’d overpowered and neutralized four hardened mercenaries.

He pointed his Sig at gold chains’ head and said, “On your belly.”

“You jus’ shot me,” the man wailed. “You fuckin’ shot me, man!”

“I’m impressed with your powers of observation. Get on your belly
now
or I’ll finish the job.”

Cursing, gold chains rolled over.

That’s when he noticed the bandaged finger stump.
Well, well, well, if it isn’t the merc who escaped from Clairemont
. What was his name? Julio-something-Ramirez… Domingo. Julio Domingo Ramirez. These were definitely Montez’s men.

Nathan kept his head up, put a knee on Julio’s back, and leaned on it. The wounded man grunted and cursed again.

He looked over and saw Harv clock his mark. Hard. Sofa man’s arms went limp and his head lolled back.

“Grangeland, secure that downed man. We haven’t cleared our perimeter or those offices on the far side yet. Stay sharp.”

She handcuffed door man’s hands behind his back.

“Grangeland, I need you over here. Keep your head up. I thought I heard something near the offices.”

Gun up and hunched over, she advanced to his position and knelt.

“Duct tape. My belly pack.”

She removed the roll and taped Julio’s wrists.

“Get his ankles too.”

There it was again. A muffled whimper.

“I heard it,” Grangeland said. “It could be the kidnapped woman.”

He motioned toward the sofa. “Secure Harv’s man.”

The sound got louder, emanating from the dark corner of the room where balcony man had fallen.

Harv kept sweeping the warehouse with his gun as Grangeland yanked sofa man forward and taped his wrists. He moaned, but didn’t resist. She also taped his ankles.

Nathan spoke quietly. “Harv, this is our fingerless friend from the attack in Clairemont.”

Harv looked at the bandaged stump. “Maybe we’ll give him a matched set.”

Julio became defiant, squirming like a worm on hot asphalt. “I need a fuckin’ doctor, man!”

Nathan locked eyes, toggled his laser, and painted it on the man’s nose.

Julio’s eyes crossed on the red dot. “Okay. Okay, be cool, man.”

He grabbed Julio’s shirt and hauled him over to the sofa. He did the same for door man, but also checked for a carotid pulse. Faint, but present.

The center of the warehouse had been converted into a living room of sorts. On three sides, black leather couches surrounded a coffee table hosting sofa man’s gun, several electronic remotes, and two cell phones. A small LCD TV sat atop an end table with a muted pornographic movie playing. He grabbed the TV remote and turned it off. Overhead, every fourth fluorescent fixture offered dull illumination. Most of the interior remained in deep shadow.

Julio couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stay quiet. “I’m bleeding bad here!”

Without warning, Nathan swung his pistol. The suppressor caught Julio’s left brow.

A red bead crept down the side of Julio’s head and found his ear. He laid all three captives out like cordwood and taped all their mouths except door man’s. With a destroyed nasal cavity, he’d suffocate with his mouth covered. Next, he taped all their feet together into one bundle.

“Grangeland, you’ve got them. We’re going to clear the warehouse. Your threat area is from here to the front door.”

“Copy.”

“Harv, on my six.”

They moved back to the front door and began traversing the perimeter wall. Several dozen pallets of boxes were stacked three high along the wall, too tightly placed for anyone to hide among. A battery powered forklift occupied the southwest corner, currently plugged in for a recharge. The offices were straight ahead in the southeast corner and occupied an area roughly ten feet wide by forty feet long. All the windows were dark, except upstairs. A narrow staircase served the second floor.

Nathan kept his laser painted on balcony man’s prone form as they approached, but he detected no movement. Unconscious or dead.

They both heard it again, a horrible mewling sound.

“That could be Montez. Cover me.”

Harv hugged the wall and kept his gun pointed at the office windows.

He kept his Sig trained at the dark figure as he approached and knelt down. No pulse. Not surprising, his white tank top wasn’t white any more. He looked at Harv and shook his head. Not Montez. They traversed to the corner of the offices.

In a whisper, he said, “I’ll duck under these windows and come up on the other side of the door.”

“Should we try a verbal command first?” Harv asked.

“Couldn’t hurt at this point.”

He spoke forcefully. “If anyone’s in there, come out now!” Nothing. He repeated the command in Spanish. No response.

“I’ll take the left.” Nathan ducked below the window and positioned himself in front of the door. He reared back and kicked. The door flew open and banged against the interior wall.

Harv followed him in and swept the right side, his red laser visible in the dust. “Clear.”

“Light switch?” Nathan asked.

The room snapped to life with fluorescent light, revealing an old metal desk, some filing cabinets, and several rows of stacked boxes. An interior door led to an adjoining office on their left. They both held perfectly still and listened for any movement on the other side of the door. Nothing. But the muffled cries they’d heard earlier were louder.

He kicked the door and rushed into the adjoining office.

Chapter  29

What Nathan saw tore at his heart.

Nichole Dalton. Naked and strapped to a metal table. Feet bound in stirrups. Torso crisscrossed by lacerations similar to his own, but not as numerous or deep. A cloth gag secured her mouth. Her lips were cracked and bleeding. The surface of the table was smeared with her blood, but not enough to run down its legs. Thankfully, she didn’t appear to have been raped. Her genital area looked unharmed and he felt a pang of guilt for looking. A smaller table on wheels held the instruments of her torment. Mounted on a tripod, a compact video camera eyed the table. Sitting atop a low file cabinet, a laptop computer connected to the camera.

Damn it.

He checked the camera. Not active
. “Grangeland, I need you.”
He sensed Harv’s presence behind him as he removed the woman’s gag.

“My daughters. He took them!”

“We’ll find them, I promise. You’re safe now,” Nathan said.

“Who are you?”

“Let’s get you off that table.” Tears began as he freed her from the stirrups. Her legs quit when she tried to stand. He caught her before she fell and she buried her face into his shoulder. Nathan knew her knife wounds stung, but the adrenaline rush of being rescued overpowered her pain.

Grangeland stepped into the office and froze. He made eye contact. “Grab a chair from the other office.” She didn’t move. “Grangeland, a chair.”

She returned a few seconds later and placed it next to the metal table, then put an arm around the woman and helped her into it.

Nathan shucked his ballistic vest and removed his sweatshirt.

Grangeland helped Dalton put the sweatshirt on. It fit like a tent, but offered her some dignity. She whispered a hoarse
thank you
. Her eyes dropped to the diamond pattern on his chest and widened in recognition.

“That’s right,” he said. “You’re Nichole Dalton. You were kidnapped from the Fashion Valley Mall a few days ago. Harv, stay with Ms. Dalton. Grangeland, a word please.” Outside the office, he lowered his voice. “Get her something to drink. I saw a small fridge near the stereo cabinet. Try to keep her as calm as possible. Reassure her we’re going to find her daughters, but be vague if asks you anything about us, or how we found her.”

They reentered the office. “Sit tight, Ms. Dalton. This will all be over in a few minutes. Harv, follow my lead. Let’s go
talk
to our beloved guests.”

They returned to the gagged and bound men while Grangeland raided the refrigerator. She eyed the mercenaries with contempt as she hurried back to Nichole Dalton.

Julio and sofa man were conscious and looked quite concerned. When they focused on Nathan’s bare chest, their eyes widened even more.

Without saying a word, Nathan unbuckled Julio’s belt and yanked his blue jeans and boxer shorts down to his taped ankles. He pulled his Predator knife, examined its shiny surface, and smiled. Julio began flopping around in a terrified frenzy. His hip wound began oozing blood faster.

“Easy, partner,” Harv said to him, playing good cop.

“You saw what they did to my sister,” Nathan growled. “I’m gonna cut this asshole’s cojones off, cook them in the microwave, and stuff ’em down his throat. Better yet, he can eat ’em raw.”

Julio tried to scream, but the tape covering his mouth muted it. He frantically shook his head.

“What’s that?” Nathan asked. “I can’t understand you.” Of course he couldn’t, the man’s mouth was taped. “Hold him down. We’ll need something to cauterize his nut sack. Is your cigar torch filled with butane?”