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Chapter Thirty-Nine
Maceo
It’s been two weeks of radio silence since Esteban disappeared without a trace with my wife and unborn children.
Josephine.
She’s thirty-three weeks pregnant today. In my mind, I can picture her waddling around, cradling her tummy—a loving and protective mother.
There’s not a moment in the day that I don’t think about her and pray she’s safe. At night, I’m haunted by her lovely face, calling out to me for help from whatever prison she’s being kept.
The manhunt hasn’t turned up anything. The FBI search of Esteban’s property in Pueblo revealed nothing other than a cash crop in the state—a legal marijuana farm. How he was able to finagle the proper government documents to grow the crop is something we’re leaving for the FBI to figure out. Our priorities are finding Josephine and killing Esteban.
The scale of ground we need to cover is more than my crew can manage. I reached out to my Brazilian contacts where a team is conducting sweeps of the remaining farms in Colombia on Esteban’s old map. Feet on the ground can get more done while my crew focuses on other areas of interest.
Darnel, a former SEAL and MC crew member, put in leave at his tattoo parlor, having his other artists run his shop while he helps back at headquarters. He didn’t have to, but when his old MC needed help, he came running.
“Family first,” he told me before sitting me in a chair and inking a pair of ravens on my ribcage under my left arm, up against my pectoral. Darnel says it’s therapy, inking my skin. I see it more as a declaration. Ravens mate for life, like Josephine and I, together forever. She is my life partner—in this one and any others to follow.
I’ll get her back. If mypadresearched all of Colombia to get mymadreback against impossible odds, I can do the same.
PT, the college-age computer geek who gave us hell a few months back, has moved into headquarters, or more appropriately, tech support. The kid is a whiz with computers, and Chase and the other tech members are happy to have the extra help. With my mind preoccupied with Josephine’s case, I’ve left Gauge in charge of handling the prospect.
Captain Warren, along with the rest of mypadre’sold SEAL team, has joined us at headquarters. Their knowledge of Esteban is imperative to our operation in tracking him down. I would be a fool to not take the advice of the only team to have discovered his previous dwelling. The five men might be in their upper fifties, but they can protect headquarters well enough when we leave for Colombia.
Punk has been raging non-stop, insisting we go blindly into South America. I’m half out of my damn mind to consider it, but Josephine was always the one to tell me to think before acting, with Jacob and Lorenzo. Esteban should be handled the same. If I hope to recover her safely, then I need to pin Esteban down before going in.
Everyone is feeling the pressure to come up with something concrete. Every night, Jim comes to me enquiring about any developments. “Any breaks in the case?”
And every night for the past two weeks, I have to break his heart. Stella is one angry mama-bear. She mutters to herself in the headquarters’ kitchen, yelling at anyone who steps into her domain.
Simone is exactly like her younger sister, throwing herself into her work and avoiding the outside world when she’s emotional. Chase is practically ripping his hair out, desperate to comfort her in any way, but she has shut him out as well. My third-in-command has taken to working as many hours as me on the case, determined to give Simone her sister back.
Hades is a wreck. He insists on sleeping on top of me, whimpering all hours of the night, missing hismamá. He and I combined make a miserable fucking pair. Runt is so confused, doing everything she can to brighten our moods. But how can we smile when our sun, our light, is missing?
It’s theoretically and physically impossible.
Each day that passes with no word from Esteban is like slicing another chunk out of my heart with a serrated knife. It hurts beyond words and poisons my soul.
I’m working with Captain Warren over a topography map of some farms further south when my phone buzzes. I damn near rip my cut to retrieve my cell faster. “Yes?”
“Good. You’re awake,” an Italian accent clips.
Cussing under my breath, I run a hand down my tired face. “What do you need, Piero?”
“I’m on my way to your headquarters. Open the gate,” he says in a tight voice.
I do a double-take at the clock on the wall. It’s damn near 0100. “The fuck?”
“Open the fucking gate, Atlas. I have a lead.”
At this point, I’ll jump at anything, even if it means I let a mafioso into my den. I whistle at Chase and motion for him to open the gate. We watch the monitors as Piero speeds onto the property, practically fishtailing in his haste.
The hell is going on?
Piero hops out of his car and reaches into the backseat, yanking a woman out roughly by her bicep.
“Aw, shit.” I run to the front door with half my brothers fast on my heels. We open the door and Piero yanks the woman up the steps, practically throwing her at me. The woman clumsily falls into my arms, sobbing and shaking. She’s scared shitless.
