Page 6 of Ballistic

“She doesn’t belong to you.”

Tesarik’s eye twitched, and my mind scrambled to keep track of every moment. Every flinch. Ready to pull the trigger.

“Freeze!” The shouts came to the right of us.

I dared a quick glance toward where two police officers advanced, about two hundred yards away.

Tesarik’s eyes shifted, as if a million scenarios flashed behind them and he tried to choose one. “Expect me,” he said.

“I will,” I gritted out.

As Tesarik spun away, I dove forward and wriggled the door of the SUV. Locked. With the butt of the gun, I slammed it into the back window of the vehicle, busting out the glass, and caught a glimpse of the girl. From where she lay on the floor in front of the SUV’s backseat, the most beautiful topaz-colored eyes I’d ever seen stared back at me, set beneath upturned brows. I’d only just popped the lock, when the SUV jerked forward, knocking my elbow into the frame, the gun from my hand, and I yanked it out as Tesarik hit the gas.

Tires squealed as Tesarik hammered out of the parking lot with one of the officers firing at the wheels. The other took off for the patrol car.

I jogged after the SUV, mentally noting the license plate number, but knew better. The car would be dumped by the end of the day.

The girl? Not long after that.

I couldn’t let that happen.

Nearly a year ago, the cops had busted an auction where Nicoleta had been sold to Tesarik, and retrieved about two-dozen missing girls. All but Nicoleta, who I’d later learned was the daughter of some supposed big time criminal and Tesarik’s long time rival.

I’d become obsessed. Relentless and driven by some inexplicable need to save her. Every night, I’d go to sleep with her face soldered into my thoughts, and wake with nightmares of what she’d undoubtedly suffered over the months. I’d gathered what little information I could steal on her, and pieced the small bits together.

The biggest question still remained, though.

Was she even alive?

Before I could ponder that for much longer, three figures rounded the corner. Two men dressed in jeans and T-shirts, with guns strapped over their shoulders, and one other big guy all decked out in camo shit like a military reject.

No sign of Tesarik or his guards.

The moment the big guy nodded and broke away, something told me to sit tight. The plan was in play.

I lifted my cell and dialed the number already pulled up on my screen. Rhys answered on the first ring, and I spoke low. “Get ready.”

“We’re in position.”

Evander sat forward beside me and flicked the butt of his cigarette away. “Discourteous cocksuckers won’t even let a bastard finish his smoke.”

Ignoring him, I popped my magazine and checked, for the tenth time, that it was full and ready to wreak havoc. An intense vibration hummed through my bones as adrenaline pumped through my veins with fervor.

The two in jeans disappeared into the maze of storage units, walking off casually as though patrolling the grounds, while Camo boy jogged toward a white paneled van and backed the vehicle around the corner and out of sight.

A sudden urgency tugged at my muscles. I couldn’t lose them again. “They’re moving. Let’s go.”

Evander backed away, and after another moment’s pause, I followed. We both made our way down the steep slope toward the chain-link fence that lined the perimeter of the building, hidden by the overgrown brush. Barbed wire had been thrown at the foot of it, tangled in the links of the fence and over the top. I tugged metal snippers from my pocket and snipped out an arc about three feet off the ground—enough to clear the barbed wire below. Evander slipped through first, and I followed behind, flattening my body to the building in front of us that allowed less than a foot’s gap between it and the fence.

“Rhys is on the south side. We corral them together, and I’ll go after the girl. Have Xavier check all the units for any others.”

“Ten four, Chief.” Evander lifted his gun, sliding along the concrete surface toward the first row of storage units.

I slinked back in the opposite direction, towards where Camo boy had gone earlier. We’d only seen three men, but who the hell knew how many more there were?

The white van stood off, backed against one of the units whose door had been propped open. A bed rolled up to the back of the van, like a stretcher, and I could just make out Camo boy’s profile with a distinct red birthmark that covered his entire cheek, pushing it from behind. The bed’s wheels buckled, then folded, allowing it to slide into the back. A body lay on the stretcher, though from my distance, I couldn’t tell if it was male, or female.

Shots crackled through the air. Rapid fire.