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Chapter Thirty-Six
Maceo
Josephine is safely on the road to Florida and under Punk’s safe watch.
It was like a red-hot knife was cutting out my heart when I had to say goodbye. But she had to leave because the longer my wife stayed, the narrower the window of escape would be.
Esteban’s phone call wasn’t him trying to play catch up. It was a warning. A threat to comply or he would come after my wife and children.
Bumping up her departure date was necessary for her safety.
We know he’s in the state. We know his exact location from where he made the call. And we have eyes on the ground already surveying the property. Eagle, Stage, and Triple have given visual confirmation it’s Esteban’s nesting ground.
The rest of the crew is gathered in the teleconference room as Gauge and I walk them through the plan to ambush—a plan that is simple but direct.
Exits will be blocked off on the only road leading onto the property by throwing spike strips to puncture all vehicle tires. If their tires are puncture-proof, the barricades we put out further down the road will stop them for sure. We go in by threes on all four sides and move to secure the giant pole shed where we know his jet is being stored north of the property.
With no modes of escape, he becomes a sitting duck. Free for the picking.
The property is fairly secluded, with no one neighboring the area aside from other giant farms. No coverage will make it difficult to ambush, but we’re highly trained to go in at night where the cover of darkness will mask us.
We’ll pair up and surround the perimeter of the house on the property. We’ll head in on foot and silently take out who we can without raising the alarm.
First shots fired means it’s open season.
Go in, apprehend Esteban, and leave no one alive. No one will challenge me, but I stress that Esteban is mine to finish.
Based on the current count of Esteban’s men on sight, we’ll be evenly matched.
We all agree not to get the FBI or local law enforcement involved. There’s no way in hell I’m watching that man rot away in a cell. He’ll rot in the damn hole I put him in.
My brothers murmur words of approval. The room is practically vibrating with electricity from our growing anticipation. My crew’s hatred for Esteban is nearly as strong as my own. As a team, one member’s pain is felt by the group collectively. We’re more than eager to finish this mission.
There’s only one looming concern.
None of the guys on-site have laid eyes on Esteban which puts me on the edge. I hope to God he didn’t take off before my brothers arrived to scope out the property.
I’m in the middle of answering questions when my cell vibrates in my cut. It’s Punk. They haven’t been on the road long enough to merit a check-in. Whatever the reason is for the call, it’s important to take.
Gauge takes over as I answer the call. “Punk?”
“Prez!” Punk shouts.
The hairs on my arms stand erect. “What’s going on? Where’s Jo?”
I hear a sharp intake of breath before he answers. “He’s got her.”
* * *
Esteban has my wife.
There’s only one thing to do—get her back.
Shutting my emotions away, I order my men to get ready.
A typical chopper can only travel two-hundred miles before needing to refuel. That gets them to Pueblo without having to stop. A chopper is faster than a car because it can fly in a straight line to its destination, but that doesn’t mean wheels on the ground can’t keep pace. The sooner we’re on the road, the better.
“Time to kill this motherfucker,” Reaper roars, pounding on his tactical vest strapped to his chest, and rallying up my men. He marches out of the house with the rest trailing after him.
