I had to find a way out of this hellhole and save my son.
36
Vince
We waited until just after midnight.
Rafa and I sat down in the garage, sitting in the black truck we would be driving out into the city, sharing a cigar.
Earlier, Louisa had texted me an address and said that was Kaley’s house. I couldn’t be sure that they were holding her there, but I could at least grab her father and force him to tell us where she was.
Lucas had come through nicely on the gear: upgraded vests, decent rifles, and even some grenades. Not the explosive kind, but flashbangs, the type that make a loud noise and a bright light that stuns people temporarily.
Rafa and I sat there, puffing away on the cigar, seriously deadly gear strapped to our chests. I grinned at him.
“You ever think we’d end up like this?”
He laughed. “What, strapped up with weapons and ready to kill some Russians? Yeah, I did.”
I grinned. “No. I mean going against the wishes of our people.”
He shrugged. “Frankly, boss, I never know with you.”
I laughed, taking a nice puff. “After this, if we both fucking survive, consider yourself promoted.”
“I’m not sure you can do that, boss.”
“I’ll make it happen.”
He shrugged. “Whatever you say.”
I laughed again and handed him the cigar. I started the engine. “You ready?”
“Always.”
I drove us out into the night, heading toward violence and death.
And I felt damn good about it.
That incredible, calm excitement overtook my body as I drove into the city, Rafa sitting next to me, placidly puffing on the cigar.
I had no clue what we were walking into. Normally we’d watch a place for weeks before attacking it like this, but we didn’t have weeks. The Russians wanted to get rid of my son.
Worse, I had no clue if Kaley really needed saving. Maybe they were keeping her safe and letting her take care of Alexei like normal. But I couldn’t take that chance. If she was okay, I’d walk out of there. Maybe I’d have to shoot my way out, but I’d leave her alone if that was what she wanted.
But I had to find out. I wasn’t the type of man to sit around and wait for answers.
I went out and I took what I fucking wanted. That was how I lived my life, fast and loose and deadly. I wanted Kaley; I cared about her. I cared about the kid, too. I wanted to help raise my son, although if Kaley wanted me to disappear, I would. But I had to hear it from her, not from some fucking note she left on the pillow because she couldn’t face me.
It took us twenty minutes before we found her block. It was a normal residential street, pretty quiet, the sort of place you saw all over Chicago.
I parked the truck at the end of the block. “They’re number eleven thirty,” I told Rafa.
“Shit,” he said. “These row homes are rough.”
“We’ll go in the back,” I said.
“Got it.”
We slipped out of the truck and made a right at the cross street. A small alley ran down between the houses, which made it easy for people to come in and out through their backyards. We moved silently down the alley, keeping at a crouch, all dressed in black.
It was totally silent. It was past one in the morning on a weekday, and so I figured most people would be sleeping. Most of the normal, working people at least. Who knew what was happening at Kaley’s house.
We stopped when we made it to her place. I double-checked, doubling back and counting the yards again, just to make sure we had the right place. Rafa nodded at me.
“Quiet,” he whispered. “Nobody around.”
“Come on.” I hopped the fence and he followed. There was a short expanse of grass, some lawn chairs, a grill, and nothing else. The back door looked like every other one on the block.
“Pick it,” I whispered. Rafa nodded and got out his lock pick set, quickly going to work. I watched the window but couldn’t see in past the curtains.
No movement inside, though I thought I saw the glow of a TV flickering in another room.
I heard the door click open and turn softly. I quickly aimed my rifled ahead as Rafa flung the door open.
Nothing.
Just a normal kitchen. We moved inside, me in the front, stepping lightly. The kitchen looked normal, just a regular suburban kitchen. Rafa pointed at something on the refrigerator.
It was a school picture of Kaley. She was a lot younger, but I recognized her.
I nodded. We had the right place at least.
Ahead, I saw I was right about the television. It was on softly in the front room, the volume turned low. I moved forward, motioning for Rafa to follow. We slipped into a dining room that was attached to the living room.
I peered cautiously into the living room. Inside sat three men and a single girl, probably around Kaley’s age. They were staring at something on the TV.