“Kai.” I swung around as a hand came down on my shoulder. I had my knife to Deck’s throat within a millisecond. Deck. Fuck. Not a handler.
“Shit.” I shoved away from him, but he didn’t seem concerned that I’d had my knife to his throat; instead, he nodded and gestured for me to lead the way.
“Two Jeeps leaving the house,” Ernie stated. “In a hurry. Could be Moreno inside second vehicle. Serious firepower.”
What the fuck? There was no way they made us that quick. There was no alarm. No gunshots.
“Eyes on the entrance,” Tyler said into the headset.
Deck and I jogged along the corridor to the electrical room. Deck was taking out the power, so the guards would lock the kids up in one room until they investigated the issue.
Deck chin-lifted and went inside. I kept going, pulling my second knife from its sheath on my left hip as I drew closer to the door that led into the yard in the center of the compound where the pits were located and where we trained with weapons.
The lights flickered a second before a loud thump and whoosh as the power shut down.
I stood with my hand on the latch waiting for Vic and Deck.
My back against the wall, I heard light quick footsteps coming from the south, and then Vic was beside me. He wore black cargo pants and a snug black T-shirt that was covered by his vest. A pistol sat at his right hip and he held in his hands a kickass Combat Assault Rifle.
We needed to give enough time for them to gather the kids up and lock them down. Deck came down the corridor and joined us.
I held up my hand and counted down as I listened for the footsteps on the other side of the door.
One
Two.
Three.
I gave a short, abrupt nod to Vic then threw open the door and rolled to the right as Vic took out the first guy, Deck the second, and my knife the third.
I was on my feet and running toward a guard already shooting at us. I threw my knife while I ran. I didn’t stop as I passed him, but yanked my knife from his chest and kept running. I knew this place like the back of my hand. Nothing had changed. I knew where the pits were and where I had cover. What screwed with me was the overwhelming feeling of dread that was fucking with my head.
The images. The feeling as if someone had a fist in my abdomen and was trying to rip out my guts. This place made me sick. It was sick and cruel what they did to us, what they were still doing. What they planned on doing with the drug.
“Jeeps headed your way. Two minutes out,” Ernie stated. “We’re one minute behind.”
Vic was taking men out, keeping my path clear as I made my way across the yard to the door that led into a large room where they put us if there was any trouble.
I looked over to my right and caught a glimpse of Deck running on the other side of the yard parallel to me. It was the only time we’d probably ever be parallel, our paths in life the same and yet so very different.
“Yard. Clear,” Vic said.
I gestured to the door with a chin nod and Deck positioned himself on the one side. Vic stayed where he was, watching for any incoming or overhead assault.
I kicked open the door and the wood splintered.
Deck and I stood clear of it for a five count and when there was no sound, I entered first, Deck covering me.
“Jesus,” Deck muttered.
Some of the kids were terrified, thin as fuck, filthy, pale and I guessed from ten to fourteen years old. Other kids had no reaction to our appearance at all—numb. I knew the feeling. No longer caring. Time and fear no longer existent.
“Package located.” Deck glanced over his shoulder at Vic who jogged toward us.
“Target has landed,” Tyler’s voice said over the headset. “Repeat, target has landed. Shitload of firepower.”
I looked at the kids. “Move away from the door. Against the wall.” I gestured with my hands, uncertain if they all understood English. But the farm hadn’t been strictly about combat and pain and torture, we’d had intense schooling. We had to be able to communicate and intermingle with some of the most powerful men in the world, criminal or otherwise.
A couple of the older kids moved first then the others followed.
“Any more of you here?” Deck asked.
A young boy, probably the smallest, stepped forward. He didn’t look Colombian and had blond hair and bright blue eyes. He also looked unafraid of us. “In the pit. Trick.”
“Trick?”
The kid nodded and pointed to one of the pits on the left side of the yard. “Trick is bad all the time. He’s always in the pit.”
“Jesus,” I muttered. Because I knew what it was like and depending on what time of year, the pit was hot, cramped and suffocating. If you panicked, it only made it worse because you couldn’t breathe, and screaming got you more days in the pit.
Deck was already moving to the pit the kid indicated. My head snapped up. Footsteps. Lots of them and they were running. I pushed the kids back away from the door. “Get back and stay down.”