“But what if something happens to you?” she asked, nibbling her bottom lip. She moved further into the room, placing a hand on his chest. “I couldn’t stand that.”
He was touched by her concern. No one had worried about him like that since his parents passed away.
“Don’t worry about me,” he said, cupping her cheek. “I’m a fighter, and I have something to come back to.”
Alessia popped up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips. It was quick, but he felt a lurch in his chest.
“I want to help,” she said.
He should have expected that.
“I’ll drop you off at the safe-house first. If we are able to rescue the women, that’s where we’ll take them.”
While she freshened up, he made his phone calls. Most of his crew would be at the raid. There were only a few that he wasn’t able to reach, but he wasn’t worried about that. The others would bring backup too.
Finally, he called Bull. Owen had texted him after he left the office. He had the brilliant idea to bring the MC into this. They had a personal stake in the matter. The bastards were in their neighborhood causing trouble already.
Connor didn’t know Bull well enough to be sure of what he’d have to say about the human trafficking issue, but it turned out that he was furious. The man seemed to take it personally that this was going on right under his nose. Bull was the vice president of the club, but he assured Connor that the president, Tank, would support them completely.
They all met at the clubhouse an hour later. Alessia was at the safe-house, along with Ruby and Brogan’s girlfriend, Amy, who was a med student. That medical knowledge might come in handy, depending on how this went.
There wasn’t much time wasted on organizing. The plan was straight-forward enough. Rescue the women, kill everyone else.
Connor’s blood rushed in his ears as they moved as a group across the street. It was just after midnight, and the street was quiet. There were dozens of them converging on the building, but they all moved as silently as possible. Stealth could mean the difference between rescuing these women and allowing them to be used as human shields.
The front of the building was boarded up, but Bull knew of a side entrance into the building. Owen led the way, but Connor was right behind him. Somewhere along the way, this had become personal for him too. He wasn’t sure if it was just because it mattered so much to Alessia or if it was because he’d gotten a glimpse of the horror that these women were going through when they visited the hacker. All he was sure about was that he wouldn’t leave this building until they’d rescued every single one of them.
At least they were fairly certain there were ten women, based on the list of names Mancini had.
The door was locked, but he had his lock-picking kit and moved forward to get them inside. When the door was open, Owen went inside first, leading them through an old kitchen. It was dark, but a few of them had flashlights, showing the place to be an empty shell, stripping of appliances and counters. Their footsteps seemed so loud on the tiled floor, but no one came running to comfort them.
As they left the kitchen, they found themselves in what used to be a dining room. There were cots with men sleeping, but two of them were awake, sitting at a table and playing cards. Undoubtedly, they were supposed to be keeping watch, but they were complacent.
That would be their mistake.
“What the fuck!” one of the men yelled, grabbing for a shotgun propped up at his side.
Owen was faster, firing off a shot in the man’s chest before he could fire. Then, all hell broke loose.
The men that were sleeping sprang up while the other sentry started firing. Most of the men were still in the kitchen, so they jumped to the side, but Owen and Connor were leading the pack, meaning that they were in the dining room. Connor leapt behind the old bar with Owen following.
“I counted twelve cots,” Connor said, almost shouting to be heard over the rain of gunfire. It seemed that the men that were sleeping were quick to get their bearings and take care of business.
Owen grinned, and it was slightly unhinged. “Then, there are eleven left. We shouldn’t have a problem taking them all out.”
He was right about that. This wasn’t a proper gang like the MC thought. It was a small group trying to lay low with the women they abducted. Connor had no doubt that they were in the right place now. But where were the women?
Raising up he fired a shot at the man closest to him, who was creeping toward the kitchen. He hit the guy in the leg, and he went down, giving Declan the perfect opportunity to put one between his eyes from the kitchen doorway.
That was how it went for the next fifteen minutes, although it felt so much longer. The traffickers fired into the kitchen and at the bar where he was hiding with Owen. Luckily, the old and busted refrigerator unit protected them, and they worked together to pick the men off one-by-one, along those firing from the kitchen.
When the last man was dead, the place was a disaster. Connor didn’t care about that, though. While some of their men started checking the bodies for ID, he took off to the back of the place. There was another dining area around the side of the bar, but no one was there.
Where the fuck were they?
He brushed his hair back, pulling on the strands a little in his frustration. He was about to turn back toward where the shootout took place, but something metal glinted off his flashlight. Moving toward the wall, he realized it was a padlock on a door.
He shot the damn thing off. Ripping open the door, he ignored Brogan’s voice, shouting at him to find out what he’d fired his gun. There were stairs leading down, and he ran his hands over each side of the wall until he felt a light switch. When he flicked it on, overhead lights illuminated the whole basement.
