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“A Macha princess is worth a whole lot more to Macha than an FBI agent.” He cocked his gun and double-checked the safety. “Kita is worth ten times that to any MC with a grudge. Her death would be slow, arduous, and painful. They’ll torture her for years just for shits and giggles.” He shook his head. “No, don’t you dare compare Kita to your Irish princess.”
Doc held up his hands but didn’t back down. “Look, I get it. Maybe not the same situation, but similar. I was worried sick about Isa, but I also knew she could hold her own. My job was to protect her, and in doing that, I also made sure she could shoot a gun.” He jutted his chin towards Dolly, who handed out shells by the box. “And she made sure Isa could fight.”
“What’s your point?”
“Kita is an FBI agent, brother.” He patted his shoulder. “She sure as fuck can defend herself. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she had them all hog-tied by the time we arrive.”
Kevlar let himself grin. It did sound like something his badass woman would do to anyone who dared hurt her. “Yeah, Kita can take care of herself. Has the last fifteen years.” He cursed. “I should’ve looked harder for her. Should’ve known she didn’t up and abandon me.”
Doc pushed back his long hair. “Nobody has that crystal ball, or we’d be filthy rich. For all you knew, she married some prince and was living happily ever after.”
He rubbed a hand over his chest, the Kevlar vest in place over his vital organs. It was the one thing he felt naked without after so many years of wearing one. “Never felt right, you know? In the back of my mind, she wasn’t living out her dream. But I ignored that feeling. Pushed it down because it hurt too much to think she’d left because of me.”
Doc didn’t say anything. He simply sat there in silence. In a way, Kevlar was grateful his brother didn’t try to talk him out of his thoughts. He’d done it so many times over the years. Coming face-to-face with reality fifteen years later was harder than he thought.
“Thanks, Doc.” He nodded and stood. The fellow Macha members were all geared up and ready. Rubble explained their plan once. He didn’t need to repeat himself. They all knew the risks and the rewards. Macha didn’t abandon one of their own. Macha didn’t abandon anyone they could save.
Chapter Thirty
Nikita
The summershe spent on the Spanish coastline kept playing in her mind. Over and over, she imagined herself sunning on the beach, the scent of freshly baked bread and suntan lotion drifting on the ocean breeze. For days at a time, she’d enjoyed the surf and sand, worry the farthest thing from her mind.
Opening her eyes, Nikita winced at the harsh reality. This was not a beach. It wasn’t even a hovel. It was a shithole. Her eyes grazed a hole cut in the bottom of the truck bed corner. No, that was the shithole. There were two, in fact.
She shivered, from the cold or her surroundings; she wasn’t sure which was the culprit. The wind howled against the side of the truck, sniffling and deep coughs the only sound louder.The one day I don’t layer to stay warm.She rubbed her hands up and down the sides of her arms, the friction barely denting the cold dead set in her bones after six hours in the back of the semi.
A group of Russian girls no older than twelve huddled next to her. None of them spoke English, and she didn’t speak a lick of Russian. She flunked out of it in her FBI training.
One of the girls tugged on the sleeve of her jacket. Her bright blue eyes were hollow, no emotion evident other than despair. It broke Nikita’s heart. She offered her a small smile. The girl smelled worse than a pigsty. They all did. Her hair was matted with what she hoped was dirt.
The girl spoke a rapid sentence. Nikita shrugged. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”
“She wants to know why you’re here,” another girl said in the group opposite them.
Nikita searched the dimly lit trailer and realized she wasn’t as young as the others. In fact, the entire huddle was near her own age. “Oh.” She looked to the girl and gently cupped her face. “To save you.”
The other woman rattled off her reply, and the girl cracked a hint of a smile. It tugged every heartstring Nikita possessed.
“I think your plan failed if you’re in here with us,” the other woman said. She moved closer, and Nikita got a good look at her. The blonde hair was cut short, almost as if someone sheared it off violently. “The name’s Yasmina, by the way.” She nodded to her group. “We’re from Ukraine.”
“It’s not the way I planned, but I’m confident I’ll get you all out.” Nikita’s eyes swept over the women. The youngest she guessed was five. It sickened her to think of where they originated and the sick fucks who wanted to buy them for their personal uses.
“How long have you been in here?”
Yasmina shrugged. “Time is easily lost. Four months or more.” She nodded to the women from her village. “I was taken before summer. The ship ride was almost deliberate. The sailors….” Tears welled in her eyes and her voice broke. She cleared her throat, pushing the emotions away. “They abused us any way they wanted. Our captors didn’t care.”
“Was it Diablos? Did they grab you?”
She shook her head. “A gang back home. They sold us to someone else. I heard them talk but couldn’t understand the language.” She scrunched her nose. “Sounded weird.”
The description didn’t help Nikita. Too many languages could be labeled as “weird.”
“We were sold separately, then boarded the ship.”
It was then Nikita noticed how emaciated the woman looked. The dirty clothes hung off her shoulders, her exposed bones sticking out grotesquely.
“The young girls…?” Nikita couldn’t finish the question. Her stomach couldn’t handle it.
