Braxton
The GPS coordinates lead me to East Village in downtown San Diego. This part of town is renowned for shady business, and I lose count of the prostitutes trying to wave me down while driving through the streets. When the warehouse is just five miles away, my phone rings. When I see Eliana’s father’s name on the display, I ignore it. The asshole must have found out I am trying to find her myself, and I don’t need his threats.
Gregory was able to track a vehicle from the hotel to a rundown motel. From there, the kidnappers changed vehicles and are now here in East Village in what seems to be a cluster of warehouses.
I pull over in a junkyard just half a mile from the warehouses, climbing out and tucking two semi-automatics in the holsters on my waist and leg. It’s late evening, and I’ve donned dark jeans and a hoodie. There are several people hanging around the area, so I’m not conspicuous. I walk to the first row of warehouses, most of which are vacant. Why do kidnappers always choose these kinds of locations? It seems almost cliché. Whatever, all I know is that when I get my hands on the men who took Eliana, they’re going to regret the day they laid their fingers on her.
My phone vibrates in my pocket again. I pull it out and growl under my breath.
“What the hell do you want, Diego? I thought you didn’t need my help.”
“I didn’t, but…” he pauses.
“Out with it.” I look around me, making sure I can’t be seen.
“I staged it. The kidnapping. I just wanted her to marry Ethan Ferreira.”
I can feel the blood pumping in my ears, so loudly I can barely hear him over the roar.
“But it all went wrong. Ethan was shot…”
The rest of what he says fades in and out. The crux of it is that he doesn’t know where she is. For all we know, she could be dead. One of his many enemies taking revenge on him.
“Please let me help,” he pleads.
“You’ve done enough,” I hiss.
“There’s more.”
“There always is, isn’t there.” I clench my fists.
“I know who has her.”
Life is a series of systematic actions, all tied together to make one big event. Diego Hernandez set this ball rolling in a lot of ways, wanting to control his daughter’s life. And now she is in the hands of a man with nothing to lose.
* * *
The warehouse I’m looking for is well hidden. There’s a parking lot behind it, and it’s close enough to the docks for a quick getaway. I should wait for the SWAT Team, but that’s not how I do things. The woman I love is being held in that building, and it’s up to me to get to her. The fact that she doesn’t know how much she means to me kills me inside. I wish we’d had more time, that I wasn’t the messed-up asshole I’d been to her. I knew, the moment I decided to take her to meet my family, that she was special. It was never about the job, but I never told her that. I’m a man with too many regrets to count, too many should have and could have beens.
There’s a door on the side of the warehouse where a guard stands smoking a cigarette, the red glow like a beacon. There are several more guards stationed around the area, so to get inside, I’ll have to be stealthy.
“I need to take a whizz,” the guard closest to where I’m standing says.
“That’s the second time this hour,” his partner grumbles.
“Yeah, so?” he retorts angrily.
“Go on, but get back here fast. I just got word the SWAT’s been tipped off. The boss says we have to move quickly. The transaction is almost over anyway.”
The man starts off toward the bushes. I wait a few seconds then follow in the shadows, making sure that his partner doesn’t spot me. I walk through the bushes toward the area I think the goon would be in, and his humming alerts me to the fact that I’m going in the right direction. He finishes his business and is zipping up when I grab him in a chokehold so tight he gasps for breath. He tries to struggle, but my grip is iron. His feet slip and slide against the dirt, but I squeeze until he passes out. He’ll wake up, just not anytime soon.
We’re around the same height and size, so I remove his jacket, slipping it on along with his earpiece. I take his gun for good measure and keep my head down as I walk toward the post he just vacated.
“Took you long enough, asshole,” his partner exhales on a heavy sigh.
I offer a grunt, not saying anything. When I’m close enough, I slam a fist into the side of the guy’s head, causing him to stagger back, falling in a heap on the floor.
“That’ll teach you patience, asshole.” I snarl, kicking him lightly to make sure he’s out. From this point, I can see two more guards in the parking lot, one at the front entrance of the warehouse and the other at the side door.
