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Once my breathing calms, I realize my mother witnessed Mia’s abduction at gunpoint. She’s alone and terrified.
“Boss, is there anyone you can send to watch my mother?”
He doesn’t answer right away.
Aaron adds, “She’s got Alzheimer’s, Boss. She’s probably terrified right now.”
The answer comes a second later. “Henderson is en route.”
“Thanks, Boss,” I choke out.
“We’ll find her, buddy,” Jonesy vows with finality. “No one fucks with Redleg family and gets away with it. No one ever has. No one ever will.”
And this damn sure won’t be the exception to that rule.
Chapter48
Where's my inator?
A FEW MINUTES EARLIER
Mia
Too amped to sit, I shuffle from foot to foot beside the dining room table. My vision bounces between my screens. I’ve elevated them on upside-down cardboard boxes I found in the garage right after Cal left with the team.
God bless Amazon for always coming through with the good cardboard. They’re the real heroes.
Thankfully, we had long-ass Ethernet cables handy at HQ and had the foresight to grab them before we left. It gave me options for where I stationed myself. The high-top counters in the kitchen would have been a decent height for standing without the need for modification, but I don’t want to be that far away from Charlotte. So the dining table it is.
From here, I can watch her without stepping away from my screens and compromising the op. Both of these assignments are important to me, and I will not fail either.
Speaking of Charlotte, she finished her puzzle and is going totryto read on the couch.
The way she emphasized the wordtryhurt my heart.
No wonder Cal is as sweet as the damn strawberry pie filling he spoon-fed me last night. She raised him in her image. And I’m so grateful she did. No one else could have forgiven me the way he did. No one else could love me. Not in spite of my shortcomings and trust issues, but regardless of them.
With all she’s going through, she’s saccharin sweet. Even if she periodically calls me by the name of Cal’s ex.
Mental note: investigate Jenna and put a voodoo hex on her.
Kidding. I don’t know voodoo.
I could send her something memorable, though. Perhaps a bag of dicks or an STD treatment kit, labeledindiscreetly, of course.
On screen, the team files into the hotel, drawing my attention to the op. I scan the hotel’s security camera feed. “I have eyes on the fourth-floor hallway. It’s all clear. He should be in his room.”
Their chatter comes through as my excitement vibrates through me. Seeing Tony’s face on the surveillance cameras today was painful.
Suspecting someone is corrupt is far easier to deal with than having it confirmed. I let this man in my bed at one point in time.
Well, his bed. I didn’t want him in my personal space. But whatever.
Now he’s threatening my life and the life of my sisters, all in service to the worst of humanity— traffickers.
Even murderers are slightly less vile. At least their victims have an end to their suffering. I’ve interviewed dozens of trafficking survivors whose stories will never leave me. Day after day and night after night praying for a death that never came. Reliving a nightmare, often multiple times a night.
Broken like animals.
