FIRE (Elite Forces #2)(4)
I follow them into an old, nasty van while Ricardo cranks the engine. “Thank you,” I say sincerely. God, I could kiss him. He has guts. I’ll give him that.
“My pleasure.” He nods before he puts the vehicle in drive, and we ride for what feels like forever on the roughest roads I've ever seen. Potholes have my ass hurting with every jar of this piece of shit van. My grip is tight on the torn leather seat, and I’m barely able to contain my own strength as my knees knock together with all the bouncing. The cool material rips from my stronghold, and I feel exhaustion wash over me from everything that’s happened the past few hours. Someone buy this man a decent car, for god’s sake.
It doesn’t take a genius to figure out this place is in a very isolated area. I had no idea Mexico had such an area full of trees. It’s a damn forest out here, all secluded and dark. I’d be scared as hell if I was out here by myself.
The harsh sounds of the night do nothing to calm me as we move rapidly from the van into the tiny house. Ricardo speaks quietly to Kase at the door after he lets us in, his English broken but understandable. He only gets a few sentences out before he turns right back around and leaves us to the empty house.
Kase slams the door, and we all just look around the floor at the evidence of someone living here. From the looks of it, I imagine a very old woman. There are old, faded afghans as well as stained doilies draped over the rickety, wooden furniture. The place is small and clean, and I’m not complaining one bit about the shelter it provides us while we decide what our next move will be.
“He said there's a closet in the back bedroom on the right that has some sort of trap door. There's room for all of us and our shit back there. We keep it all there unless we’re wearing it. If we hear anyone coming, we go in lockdown. He's going to help the others find us when they get back tomorrow. Until then, we work on a f*cking plan of attack.” His voice is angry, and I know he’s irritated that I pushed to stay. Maybe one day, he’ll understand why I could never leave.
CHAPTER TWO
KALEB
I try like hell to open my eyes with no luck. The vile smell of piss and stale cigarettes fills the air around me. At least that sense is still working, because I sure as hell can hardly see. And god, that smell is enough to make a dead man choke.
I’m thankful for the f*cker who cut the rope off me before he shoved my face into the concrete floor. My wrists are f*cking raw and my skin burns from the friction of the rope. Dried blood coats the welts left behind from them wrangling the hell out me. Sliding across the floor to a corner, I try to pull together an ounce of hope in an otherwise hopeless situation.
I still can't see, so I begin blinking profusely, working to add moisture. Fuck. My eyes are so dry it feels like f*cking sandpaper every time I move my eyelids. Hell, I know this is just the beginning of it. I can feel deep in the depth of my soul that this will be the worst shit I've ever dealt with. I just wish I could tell these f*ckers to bring it. I'm ready, *s. Try all you want, but you will never break me. You can’t break something that’s already broken.
I work to roll out the kinks in my neck from sleeping on the floor of this shitty cell. I’m still trying to pry my eyes open fully, but the dirt in the air and the dryness all around me do nothing to bring moisture to these bitches.
“Come on. Open. I f*cking need you,” I whisper, as if demanding my eyes to open will work. The more they open, the more I'm blinded by the scorching sun. My voice sounds like shit because I'm thirsty as f*ck. I manage to work them into a sliver, and that's about all I can handle as I wait for them to adjust. My head nearly explodes from the sudden rush of light. Shit.
Every part of my body aches, but it doesn’t stop me from standing. I want nothing more than to be prepared for what happens next. I need to know my surroundings, even if it's a f*cking nine-by-nine goddamn cage. Knowledge is key in situations like this. That and patience.
My internal compass needs to know the direction they took me last night. I start to relive their every move as they tossed me into the back of a flatbed truck right after they stripped me bare of all my equipment, then tossed me around like a f*cking rag doll. Fuckers stole my guns and every damn thing I owned except the clothes on my back. I hope like hell I have the honor to make them all pay for what they've done, because they can bet their asses I’m keeping score.
My eyes adjust even more as I move through the cage and work my way to the steel bars holding me here. My hands grip the bars tightly, and I imagine them slipping around the neck of whoever the hell is in charge here. Nothing would make me happier than squeezing the life out of any of the cock-sucking bastards who even think about keeping me locked here. They’ll die if I'm given the slightest chance. The entire group of them will.
It’s f*cking hot and it's only mid-morning by the way the sun appears halfway in the clear, blue sky. I’m east of where we were. How far, I have no clue. Thank god for my inner compass keeping me somewhat informed, even if it’s only giving me the slightest clues.
From what I can see, there isn’t a damn thing around, except for a small house that looks like it could crumble to the ground at any minute. The dirty siding is hanging halfway off, and most of the windows are broken. The goddamn smell is enough to keep everything away from here. It literally smells like rotting shit. I’ve got to be on some rundown farm or an old plantation of some kind that’s embedded deep in the woods by the looks and amount of trees off in the short distance. It's a real piece of shit place, telling me there won’t be any visitors anytime soon, so my hope for an escape is diminishing.