Julien entered the house to see Nika laying inside the door. Blood pooled under her shoulder and merged with the shadows. Labored breath sawed in and out. Crimson matting around her shoulder defined the entry wound.
An overturned lamp and scarlet streaks darkening the hardwood defined a path from the steps to the door.
Collier strode beside him, scanning the room. “Let’s check upstairs.” He gestured to the first officer. “Weinheim, clear the two rooms downstairs, then take care of the dog.”
The deputy balked at rushing her to the vet surgical center until Collier repeated the order.
Outside, wheels screeched, and tires churned up grass with each of his brothers’ arrival. Julien’s call made en route had brought the near-immediate response—in various states of stress and undress.
Dry heaves failed to slow Julien’s progress to the bedroom, where evidence of Adara’s struggle lay in shards across the room—a bedside lamp, the shattered, molded-glass jar with coins spilled everywhere, and a bottle of soda once perched on the nightstand leeching its contents to the rug. The bedcovers were strewn across the hardwood floor. Spatters of blood dotted the mattress and rug.
Julien turned checked the en suite and walk-in closet, knowing they would be empty, except for the memories he and Adara had made in the shower. Conner’s hand on his shoulder brought him back to the moment.
Conner led him downstairs while Collier examined the scene.
Nate and Marc arrived, each ready to do whatever necessary. Marc set his laptop on the kitchen counter.
I’ve got all our research here.”
Julien paced in the kitchen as the four conceived their plan.
The brothers had always worked as a cohesive unit, stood together during a crisis, but Julien didn’t want them involved with what he had planned. Thoughts of Gary and Tony flitted through his mind. “I should have seen this coming.” His fists clenched on the counter top.
“Do you think it’s the family or Simmie?” Marc stood across from him and booted up his laptop.
“Surveillance system was shot to hell. A pro would’ve disabled it, not mangled it. Looks like someone took it out in a rage. So I suspect her family. Maybe they think they’ll inherit if she dies.” Julien answered with disgust and fear. “Simmie’s only sure option included marriage.”
“Any ideas on where they’d take her?” Nate asked.
“I ran a background and assets search on each, curious if they’d been playing with her inheritance. The only physical asset I found is still in her name, custody of Tony, a secluded cabin about an hour inland.” Marc added.
“We’ll get her back,” Nate assured. “That’s why you have brothers. Nate and Conner have our gear stowed in the SUV. You got the coordinates to the cabin?”
“I got ’em.” Marc answered.
“I’m afraid we’ll probably need immediate first aid when we find her. There’s blood on the sheets and the floor in the bedroom, trails to the side door.” Julien closed his eyes as a wave of nausea washed over him and left him light-headed. “God knows what they’re doing to her now. Maybe you guys—”
“Don’t go there.” Conner’s tone took on the familiar role of leader.
“From what you’ve said, they might figure they won’t get her money through marriage if she’s signed her lawyer’s documents,” Nate added.
“Yeah, which just leaves…” Julien couldn’t finish the thought.
“Oh God, yeah. It just leaves Adara. Let’s go, get her back.” Marc shut his laptop before striding to the door.
“I’ve got med supplies,” Conner advised as he stepped into the oppressive night air.
Julien grabbed a special bag from the hall closet. He had prepared for what he wanted to accomplish with the bastards.
Shapeless patches of buttered light from a full moon marked each mile of empty road and every field of fescue and wild rye. Sporadic clouds would prove ineffectual cover, which worked against them with millions of stars in the distant inky blanket highlighting their efforts. The ride was interminable with an eternity of recriminations that would haunt him through afterlife. Low murmurs of Marc and Nate from the back seat amounted to white noise.
Three years since Julian had left the military—motivation would reanimate stealth skills with crystal clarity. His brothers each trained in similar units.
Flashes of Adara cuddled on his lap, taking a stand against her family at the club, and skydiving warped through his mind. It all vanished with the blood on his sheets.
“This is it. Lane should be ’bout a half mile,” Conner murmured.
They would be in time. Julien could accept nothing less. The SUV skidded slightly as it dropped from asphalt to the grass and dirt shoulder. Conner pulled behind a copse of trees.
The secluded area bordered a game preserve ten miles off the interstate with nothing to call companion other than wildlife. A winding road dividing the woods appeared as little more than a rutted path with weeds having overtaken crushed gravel. Without his flashlight, he could see tracks of matted grass leading to a bend in the path.
Malevolence from varied sources filled his heart with a heaviness unknown before Adara’s kidnapping. He’d never known such fear. He wouldn’t survive if they’d crushed her spirit.
With acid eroding his gut, Julien saw no good way for the night to end. His hands shook as he rechecked his Glock and automatic rifle.
“When I pulled up satellite images, it showed this place set back in the woods ’bout a quarter mile.” Marc related what he’d learned about the surrounding area. “That’ll be to our advantage, for the most part.”
“What’s the background on these assholes? Any serious training?” The clicks of Nate checking his weapons filled the intermittent silence.
“No. It’s just what we’ve discussed. The uncle worked construction all his life and doesn’t hold a job long. The cousin drives a truck. Didn’t find anything else except a pile of mounting bills. Apparently, they were expecting a windfall. Word is—Uncle Tony owes a local shark for accumulated debts. Looks like gambling is his only form of investment planning.”
“Figures. Any word about the warrant issued?” Marc asked.
“BOLO is up on all agencies…Once incarcerated, the inmates will eat ’em alive.” Julien’s concentration remained erratic as images of Adara tied down, a thin cane raised high before slicing into her delicate flesh came to mind.
Conner’s description of the cabin’s dimensions was etched forever in Julien’s brain. They wouldn’t get a second chance. Their timing would have to be perfect—and decisive.
“There’s twenty yards of clear space around the cabin. It’s a two-story with front and back entrances, porch on each,” Marc added.
With a last look at his brothers, Julien cleared his mind for what lay ahead. Adara needed him focused. After inserting their coms and radio checks, they headed out.
“Considering what’s at stake, the family might have some of their friends present for backup,” Marc advised as he adjusted his vest. Moonlight pinpointed their presence as they slid through the woods.
“Probably,” Julien added. “How about Nate and I take the front, you two circle around back once we get close.” The familiar scent and feel of his balaclava brought back memories and shifted his psyche into gear.
Grateful for deer paths, they made good time through thick underbrush and over uneven ground. A deep ravine presented a minor obstacle but left them vulnerable to possible posted guards. This was what they were trained to do, similar scenario, new adversaries and goal. Julien intended to kill, leaving part of his soul in the cabin. His feral grin remained hidden by his mask.
Each man held a resin-bodied stealth light that remained manageable even with gloves, its diffuse illumination perfect for their purposes. Stark blackness surrounded them in the woods with moonlight unable to penetrate the canopy of branches and leaves above. The recent rain made wet blankets of fallen debris of seasons past and muffled their steps. Their intrusion disrupted normal nocturnal sounds and was beyond their control.
The quiet night became another enemy as an open window emitted a sulfur-yellow light as well as the terrified scream of the woman he loved. His heart stuttered as images of Adara’s prior descriptions surfed through Julien’s thoughts.
“Give us three minutes to circle,” Conner whispered.
Shaking with rage, Julien stumbled forward until another scream dropped him to his knees. Instruments clinked when he dropped his bag. The thud of his gloved fist against a nearby tree brought welcome pain.
Only yards away and parallel to the front door, he stood, blood roaring in his ears. Long seconds passed before Nate’s murmured voice made sense. “Not much longer, bro. We’ll get her back. Focus. She’s alive.”
Nate’s hand on his shoulder kept him from bolting forward “Julien, if you can’t screen out the audio, let us go—we’ll call when it’s clear.”
“No, Nate. I’m going. I just need to get my shit together.”
“All right, soon as Conner and Marc are in position, we’re a go.” Nate gripped Julien’s shoulder hard as another scream filled the air.
Damn the sounds that carry on a still night. Julien heard the familiar crack of a whip as it struck flesh. Another scream. It sounded—choked off. A gurgling sound. His string of muffled expletives as he visualized the probable scenario made him wretch. The balaclava came off before he emptied his stomach. He didn’t replace the mask. He wanted the fuckers to put a face to their terror.
Helpless frustration and rage twisted in his chest. Yes, he would kill just as he’d killed before in the military. Tonight would be personal. Seconds felt like hours as another scream shattered the night. Each echoed in his skull to drive out rational thought.
No more. He hoped his brothers were close to position. With a beast’s instincts, he charged the front door. Unhinged fury exploded through the luminous masses of fog clouding his brain.
He didn’t wait at the door to signal—the sound of the wood planked barrier banging against the interior wall would be enough. The rear door crashed in seconds later. In the back of his mind, his brothers’ words hissed over his mic. He could put no meaning to the nonsense syllables.
Repetition of training brought a sequence of realizations. He noted essentials—open floor plan and placement of furniture. No one else downstairs. Nate stood by his side.
The sound of pounding feet announced two men heading their direction from an upstairs hall. At the top of the banister, each stood with small-bore weapons and hesitated. It took only a split second before they turned their weapons to dangle by the trigger guard upon seeing four black-clad intruders with automatic weapons.
“We don’t want none of this shit.” Voiced from a heavy-set, young man wearing jeans and T-shirt.
Nate motioned them downstairs, leaving them in Marc and Connor’s personalized care.
Julien rushed up the stairs three at a time. The bang of a bedroom door slamming made him flinch.
Nate closed the distance behind him.
Julien shouldered his rifle and pulled his Glock, which was better for close quarters.
“If you come in here, I’ll kill her!” Tony’s muffled voice wheezed through the door. “I swear it, she’s dead meat!”
Without a second thought, Julien rushed to the one closed door along the hall. Solid wood made for a strong door, however the flimsy lock gave with his first kick planted next to the handle. He never heard it crash against the back wall. Distantly, he realized there should be pain in his leg, but it didn’t register.
The sight greeting him would forever haunt his nightmares. Gary zipped up his pants. Tony held his knife against Adara’s neck. She lay face up, naked, on a desk, Wrists and ankles cuffed to the legs of the furniture. Her head was tilted back and just over the edge. Chest and thighs looked like raw hamburger—the bloody cane had been dropped by Tony’s feet in favor of a knife.
“Go ahead, Julien, move one inch. I’ll slit her throat and bask in her blood.”
Adara sobbed, her head turned away. Blood ran down her flanks and her legs. Crimson lines crisscrossed her breasts, abdomen, and thighs. Splotches of blood covered the front of Gary’s jeans. He’d raped her. On the wall behind them, more droplets of blood flung from the cane formed lines that spattered the whitewash like a sociopath’s inkblot test.
Cold rage the likes of which he’d never known gripped Julien despite his training. Correct placement of a bullet in the C-4 spine will paralyz. Instant quadriplegia. Death would follow from bleed out.
He’d done it before. In the military. His concentration centered on one spot, one action in his mind’s eye. The bullet racing from his gun to the point in the neck just below the jaw line. His breathing slowed, eyes narrowed. This was who he was, at this moment, in this time.
In the back of his mind, he heard Tony yelling. He shut it out. Gary stood to the side, uncertainty written in his expression and hands held up in surrender.
Julien pushed it all aside, knowing the place he needed to go, the killing zone. He didn’t like it, but he needed it. Adara needed him.
The bullet hit its mark, exited the back of Tony’s neck and sprayed blood on the wall behind. The force jerked the older man’s head and shoulders before he crumpled without a sound. Julien would never forget his wide eyes, staring in shock.
The look of horror in Gary’s expression revealed his expectations, both hands raised in front as if to block a bullet’s passage. “Please. Don’t shoot.” Abject terror encompassed every aspect of his being. He saw his death in Julien’s face as he pleaded.
“Don’t worry, I’m not gonna shoot. You’ve got so, so much to live for…though nothing comes to mind at the moment. I’m sure we can arrange something.”
Nate stepped forward, took Gary by the back of the neck and shoved him to the floor.
“What are you going to do with me?”
With a solid punch, Nate knocked him unconscious. To see the unconscious bastard defenseless didn’t help.
Marc and Conner stood just inside the door, pale and shaking with rage as their gazes took in the room. Both had removed their masks. “The men downstairs are secure.” Marc’s low voice was muffled from a clenched jaw.
Julien shouldered his gun with shaking fingers. He’d dealt with victims before, knew the words to say. Adara’s continued sobs drowned out the roaring in his ears. Her entire bloody body shook. It took several tries before anything emerged from his throat. “Shhh, sweetheart, you’re going to be all right. I’ve got you now.” His low voice crooned in her ear as he stroked her hair. “Conner, you got the med kit?”
“Yeah.” His oldest brother crouched by Adara’s head on the other side as he removed his gloves and stroked her cheek. “Adara, you allergic to any medications, hon? I can give you something for pain.”
She sobbed.
“Adara, they’re down. They can’t hurt you again. Look at me.” Julien gently turned her head to face him. “Sweetheart, are you allergic to anything?”
She shook her head.
“Okay. I’m gonna give you a shot.” Conner briefly closed his eyes as he opened his medical bag. “You’ll feel a little better in a few minutes. We’re gonna get you straight to the hospital.” After giving her the injection, he pulled out a bottle of brown liquid and a stack of gauze pads. With confident, sure movements, he wet the pads and began cleaning the blood away from her wounds while explaining his procedure. Nate and Marc unfastened her restraints.
Her sobbing cut short with a gasp each time Conner touched a deeper laceration. Julien continued to stroke her hair, murmuring encouragement in her ear.
The onus of guilt lay at his feet. If he’d fulfilled his promise and protected her, she wouldn’t lay before him, broken and bloody.
Conner touched him on the shoulder and nodded. “That’s about as good as I can do for now. I’ve covered the worst of the wounds I can see.”
Time to determine the injuries around her groin.
With a soft touch to her face, Julien whispered to Adara what to expect. She tried to angle away from the pain until he wrapped his other arm high around her shoulders. “Easy, Adara. He needs to see if you’re hemorrhaging. Easy now. Just a few minutes and we’ll be on our way.”
Various future scenarios flitted across his consciousness where Adara’s scarred body could not bear children nor could she tolerate the tender touch of a man. Though she would recover physically to one degree or another, her mental status remained jeopardized.
“We’ll wrap her in a blanket. She’s gonna need some stitches.” Conner caught Julien’s attention before adding, “I have no way of knowing the extent of internal injuries. Union hospital’s an hour away, we should fly her out.”
“I’ll make the call.” Marc snatched up his phone.
Nate stood between Julien and the unconscious Gary with a firm grip on Julien’s shoulder.
Adara groaned when Julien helped her to sit and wrapped a blanket around her. With eyes glazed over and pain dulled by the shot, she continued to moan intermittently. With the patience he’d learned from life’s lessons, he lifted and settled her against his chest. She would live—everything else, they would sort out.
“What’re you going to do with me?” Sluggish movements preceded Gary’s voice squeaking in the now-silent room.
Julien shook his head. Fear had clearly emerged with the return of the dirtball’s consciousness.
“Oh, I have very special plans for you…cousin.” Julien’s cold threat echoed off the walls. All three of his brothers looked at him questioningly.
“Uh, Julien? You know this needs documentation. We have a body here,” Nate reasoned.
“Yep. And I’m gonna need a little help…any volunteers?”
With a sigh, Marc looked around as he pocketed his phone. “Hell, I’m in. What do you have in mind?”
“Put him on the table and tie him down. Conner, you got my bag?”
“Hell yeah. You want him medicated?”
“Not for pain,” Julien answered with a cold grin. “You’ll find what you need.”
“Chopper ETA twelve minutes,” Marc advised. “After that we’ll have about another twenty till police arrive. Whatever you’re planning, there’s your window.”
Julien looked down at Adara sleeping in his arms. “No way can I leave this to chance. I have to make sure that bastard can never rape another woman. Any problems?” When he looked at each sibling in turn, a small shake of their heads demonstrated a show of solidarity.