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Victor recovers quickly, holding his hands out, showing he doesn’t have anything in his hands, and rattles off clear, if badly accented, Spanish.
“No problema, estais seguro. You’re safe, okay?”
He turns to Robbie, his look telling me what I need to know. Silas didn’t know about this. His guys didn’t know about this. And they’re furious, judging by the glares they send Chambers’s way.
The scared women are Allie’s breaking point, and she rushes forward, dodging around Logan. “Oh, my God, help them! TJ, what the fuck are you doing?”
Victor stops Allie from climbing into the truck, but at my unintentional growl, he sets her down gently.
“You are not getting in there right now. It’s not safe until we know what’s going on. Now, how about you don’t get me killed for stopping you, ’kay?” Victor says gruffly.
TJ’s eyes dart from Allie to me, and he clears his throat. “Tony said he needed help with a coyote trip. They’ve got their menfolk north already, working up in the Midwest on cattle ranches and farms. They’re meeting them there.”
Suddenly, Chambers laughs heartily. “Can you believe the fucking choir boy savior complex on this one? Hero for his country soldier shit. Just told him it was a rescue mission and he was right on board. Yes, sir,” he mimics, sloppily saluting, though I know he’s a soldier himself.
It’s an intentional slight.
TJ turns to Chambers, his anger growing before my very eyes, which tells me that Chambers did mislead him. “You’re trafficking them, aren’t you? I fucking asked you that. You lied to me, you son of a bitch.”
I don’t move as TJ launches himself at Chambers, tackling him to the ground and proceeding to pound him into the pavement. It’s not a fair fight, not after what I’ve already done to Chambers, but I don’t interfere as TJ caves in his nose, the crack audible even through the sound of fists meeting flesh. TJ doesn’t stop, landing shot after shot to Tony’s face and body.
“Enough,” Zallow calls out finally, or maybe it’s too soon. Chambers deserves worse than a beatdown for what he was planning to do to these women and children.
When TJ doesn’t stop, he grabs him by the arm and pulls him off. “Goddammit, at ease! He’s still my brother. Get the fuck off, TJ.”
“Uno momento,” Victor says, holding up a finger to the whimpering women before closing the back of the truck. They cry out, but he throws the latch anyway. Allie lays her palm to the door, whispering something I can’t hear.
For now, Zallow faces me squarely, his arms crossed over his chest and his feet spread, trying to look dominant. I’m sure it works for him more often than not, but posturing and feathers are for peacocks. I don’t need some anthropologic dominance posture to be in charge because I actually am.
“Angeline, Silas said Tony was ours to handle. TJ, yours. Agreed?”
I look at the two men sitting on the ground, one beaten and broken and the other only restrained by his training.
I dip my chin once in agreement, but as Victor begins to move to Zallow’s side, I call out, stopping them. “Allie, come here.”
She doesn’t want to leave the truck. I can see it in her eyes, the glitter of tears pooling in the corners. But she obeys without complaint, and I take her hand, holding it tightly. Through my touch, I give her all the strength I can, all the encouragement, and the silent message that she’s been amazing so far. It’s far less than I wish I could give her.
Perhaps this is a mistake. Maybe I should shuffle her off to the car with Logan and hide this from her.
But she wants no secrets.
She wants transparency.
And as painful as it is for both of us, she’ll get it. No matter how ugly. No matter the stains it will leave on her soul.
It’s a fraction of the ones I bear, but she is innocent, more than I ever was, considering the family I grew up in.
Victor raises his gun and Chambers sobers, the realization dawning that he’s in far deeper shit than he thought.
“What . . . wait? Vic! You’re my brother. You can’t do this. Silas won’t—”
Perhaps in his former life, Chambers was a man who could give orders. His file said that he served his country with courage and honor during two tours, one in Iraq, another in Afghanistan. And maybe he’s served Silas courageously afterward, I don’t know. But now he’s at the end of his road, and like most men, he pleads for his life, all notions of honor or toughness forgotten.
Some would look down on him, but I don’t. I’ve seen too many strong men do the same thing and too few truly face it with dignity. Death comes for us all, and when it does . . .
