“He became a Black Angel knowing he was going to turn on us,” Cooper replies and looks back down at his M4 carbine. “He is a master manipulator. The only reason he joined the Colombian military was to learn how to fight and use weapons. How to run an army for the drug kingdom he wanted to build.”
“He used us,” Laz says, his eyes narrowing with anger. “He used every single last one of us. The Black Angels turned him into one of the best fighters and shooters in the world. He’s been able to train his teams to be exactly like us. And the scariest part is he knows all of our secrets.”
“That’s how he was able to get to your parents, Reagan,” Sam speaks. “He knows how the Black Angels operate. We’ve tried to change our security since he went rogue but he’s still figured out how we arm our homes. He knows about the alarms on every property, about the security cameras.…”
“He knows about the basements…” I say, my voice trailing off, my mind flashing back to last year. The young hitman, pulling at our metal tool chest. That’s how he knew a secret door was there. Torres told him where we’d be hiding.
Sam nods. “That was one of Torres’s men. Your parents were part of a raid in Ecuador that killed his cousin. Santino wanted everyone involved dead, including your parents. He sent that hitman to your house with orders to kill them. And to kidnap you.”
“Did he know my parents?” I ask, grasping the gun at my side so hard, my hand is beginning to cramp. I shake it out and tuck it into the long sleeve of my oversize sweatshirt.
“Yeah, he knew them,” Laz replies. “They had only been Black Angels a short time when he went rogue, but he knew them well enough to stay under their skin.”
“To stay under all our skin,” Sam replies, her voice so soft, I think I’m the only one who heard her.
I shake my head, stretch my legs out in front of me, and cross my arms over my chest. “I thought this was supposed to be the best agency in the world. I just don’t understand how he could get inside this group and fool all of you.”
“He’s the only one who’s ever done it,” Laz says, memories of betrayal changing the tone of his voice, the expression on his face. “He was just that good.”
Silence envelops the back of the truck. There is nothing more to say. Eventually everyone returns to their work. I stare blankly at my tablet, Torres’s face gaping back at me. I knew Torres was evil, but this takes it to an entirely new level. How he could go through all the strenuous training, pass all the psychological tests, and not get red flagged is beyond me. But I guess it takes a real sociopath to fake his way through five years of being a Black Angel. To go on missions and save people’s lives, to befriend his colleagues, to always have their backs and then turn around and stab them there.
I used to believe that every person was good or at least started out good. It’s people like Torres who have forced me to lose that innocence. Some people are just born evil. They are born with that bad seed. And it just grows and becomes bigger and all-consuming until it manifests into hate and then harm and then torture and then murder. Humans are capable of stuff that scares the shit out of me. I just hope we get to the ranch before my parents become two more bodies on Torres’s very long kill list.
TWENTY-EIGHT
“Two miles out,” I hear Eduardo’s scratchy voice say over the radio from the front seat. “Two miles until we reach our location.”
Everyone is gearing up, strapping on black boots and their black bulletproof vests, double-checking their guns and tucking away their knives, ammunition, and zip ties. Luke struggles with the Velcro on his vest.
“Here, let me help you,” I say as I tighten his strap, looking into Luke’s eyes for the first time in an hour. His lips curl up into a small, relieved smile. I’ve felt his eyes on me, desperate for me to give him some sort of sign of how I’m feeling and what I’m thinking. I’ve been seesawing between moments of numbness and moments of panic. I haven’t wanted him to look at me and see vapid emptiness or hysterical fear. The truth is I don’t know how I should feel. There isn’t exactly a guidebook on how to feel when you’re on your way to rescue your kidnapped parents from their psychotic colleague turned traitor.
I know Luke. He’s been watching me, trying to figure out what to do, what to say. But there’s nothing to say. Just being here is more than enough because he doesn’t have to do this. He doesn’t need to put his life on the line to save my parents. But he has, and I know he would even if I begged him to stay.