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Liam
Marco seemed different after New Year’s Eve. I couldn’t put my finger on it. Sometimes, he would ask me to come to his place to watch a movie, which almost always led to sex on the couch. Other times, he’d go a whole week without inviting me over. I couldn’t figure it out and kept reminding myself this was casual. Marco didn’t want a relationship, and I needed to manage my expectations. I was trying, but it was hard. I went on a few dates, but none panned out to anything.
The off-the-books missions slowed down during and after the holidays. I didn’t know if that was Tony’s decision or if things naturally slowed down at that time of year. That lasted until the end of February when I got a call from Marco to meet the team at his place. This time, the tip came from someone in law enforcement in Atlantic City who was frustrated because they couldn’t get anyone to pay attention to the problem. Michael did some digging and found out that the police commissioner and some high-level politicians from that area had a vested interest in keeping the authorities from finding the trafficked kids. Sometimes, I really hated people.
The drive to Atlantic City took only about an hour. This time, we did take a few of the Escalades because they wouldn’t be out of place there. We also needed the room because Michael said there could be as many as eight kids.
Andrea and Dante left right after the planning meeting so they could do reconnaissance on the house where the kids were being held. According to Marco, the operation had to be tightly controlled and as quiet as possible because we would be in the middle of a city. To that end, everyone going in for the rescue also had tranquilizer guns.
I rode down with Marco, and we talked and laughed the whole way. He finally told me what happened on the mission where he got hurt. “I’d just gotten this one guy down when Gabe called a warning. Another guy we hadn’t accounted for came out of nowhere and fired at me. Luckily, Gabe saw him first. Saved my life. I got the gun away from the asshole, but in the fight, he pushed me down the stairs. Gabe put a bullet in the guy’s skull.”
The casual way he talked about his brush with death freaked me out. It scared me that he could have been killed. He glanced over and must have seen something in my expression because he said, “It’s fine, Liam. This is what I do. It’s why we work in teams. We all have each other’s backs.”
“I get it,” I finally said. “It’s scary though. I don’t like thinking about you getting hurt like that.”
Marco smirked. “Look at you being all overprotective and shit.”
I rolled my eyes. “Touché. Okay, I’ll let it go.”
We got into Atlantic City around eight. The sun had set more than two hours before and the streets were fairly quiet. Marco took us down some narrow side streets lined with houses packed so tightly you could spit on your neighbor’s house from your kitchen window.
When we drove past a long, narrow two-story house, Marco pointed and said, “That’s it.”
The house itself was unremarkable in every way. It had dull white vinyl siding and a single concrete step leading to a white aluminum storm door, behind which was a pale-aqua interior door. All the windows were darkened by what I assumed were blackout curtains. The only outward sign of life was the light shining through the two small panes of glass at the top of the entry door.
Marco continued past the house and parked half a block away, behind Michael’s Ford Explorer. After he turned off the engine, he pulled out two small cases and handed me one. “Michael should be setting up comms soon.”
I put the small device in my ear, and a few minutes later, I heard Michael’s voice. “Comms check.”
“Go for Marco.”
I hesitated because it felt strange for me to be part of this elite group of warriors. After Dante, Andrea, Pete, and Gabe checked in, Marco looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “Oh, right. Uh, go for Liam.”
Chuckles came through the earpiece, and I felt myself blush. Marco shook his head and smiled. “All right, Michael. Liam is headed your way.”
“Roger that,” Michael said.
Like the other mission, I would wait in Michael’s modified computer cave while Marco and his team went and took care of the bad guys. Marco had hinted that their connection this time was more at the federal level but wouldn’t say anything else about it. Whoever that was would come in after we left and collect the people our team left behind. We would take the kids to a hospital north of Atlantic City, where we would be met by an organization that reunited trafficked children with their families whenever possible and safe.
I grabbed my medical bag and hurried out of Marco’s car, pulling my coat close and my hood over my head. February was freaking freezing with the wind coming off the icy cold Atlantic Ocean.
Michael once again took control of the cameras and also somehow disabled their alarm system. I was decent enough with computers, but I had no idea how Michael did what he did.
Marco’s team went in the back door this time, and even though I was on the comms with them, I barely heard a sound until there were shouts of surprise and muffled thuds as the team made their way through the house. “Ground floor clear,” Marco said. “Securing four targets now. Gabe and Dante take the second floor.”
“Roger that,” Gabe said.
Michael said there were six guards in the house so that left just two more. Andrea and Dante had seen three customers enter the house earlier, so they were also in for a nasty surprise. It was quiet for a few minutes, with only the occasional grunt from one of the team or groans of pain from the bad guys.
A strange static blasted through my earpiece, and I had to pull it out. “What the hell was that?” I asked. Michael just stared at me wide-eyed.
I put the earpiece back in time to hear Marco shout, “Gabe!” and then pounding feet. Scuffling and cursing were followed by the distinct sound of a fist hitting flesh. “Motherfucker!” Marco shouted. “Move one muscle, and I will put a bullet right between your eyes.”
“What’s happening?” I asked.
It was Andrea who answered. “Gabe got hit by a taser. His heart stopped, and he’s not breathing.”
“Shit.” I grabbed my medical bag. “I’m heading your way. Is someone doing CPR?”
