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"Yeah, birth family should come above anything else." The family I chose to abandon when I moved into Knox's dark world.
"No, baby. Us. The cartel. We are family. Not who birthed you or raised you. Family are the ones who have your back through whatever life throws at you."
"Like Nico."
"Yes, treasure. Nico is family." Knox replies, planting a kiss on my wrinkled brow. I don't really understand all of this.
"Blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb," Knox chuckles. "You can't always rely on the family you're born into, that's why it's important to surround yourself with better people. You aren't tied to your parents."
"You're supposed to be finding Nico." But I really appreciate the pep-talk. I wasn't born in this world, but they are more family than my biological relations have ever been.
Chapter nine
Knox
Lessthananhourafter finding the camera, I'm ready to go get Nico. Or the guys that took him anyway. We have no evidence to show Nico is in that room, or that he is even alive at this point. The odds are that these men were only hired to grab Nico and hand him over to whoever paid them. I've been racking my brain on the way here for someone who would have any interest in Nico, but the list is empty. We'll have to rely on interrogating the men when we get hold of them. That's another bonus of the blood brothers; they know how to take these guys down alive.
Seb, Arlo, and Oscar meet us, kitted out like a cross between police special forces and militia. I'm not sure what their guns are, the rifles in their hands are holding beanbags or rubber bullets, but the smaller ones strapped to their thighs could be anything from pepper spray pellets to display only replicas. In reality, they are just as illegal as my hidden Glock, but it increases our chances of getting in and out swiftly and without damage to Nico or my property.
Fortunately, I don't give a shit about my property. We can burn this hotel to the ground if it helps get Nico out. It also means I can talk to the managers here and get the whole incident hushed up.
"Are we ready?" Seb questions.
"Yes," I reply.
"No one is to drop their guard for a second. Keeping your kid in your hotel is either stupid or something bigger than we're seeing."
Nico isn't my kid, but I am financially responsible for him, so in a way, I'll take his words. I agree, this feels too easy. One question, one camera, one hotel. It took us three days to find the first breadcrumb and now we have the whole trail. I am terrified about the impending disappointment. If Nico isn't in that hotel room, we are back at square one.
Seb boots in the door with one kick, it was a pre-planned scare tactic chosen over a simple key card. We want the residents' attention on us instead of Nico, if he's there. This room isn't well prepared as a safe house.
Three men jump up from a game of cards, but our guns are already drawn. One man surrenders, the other two go for their guns. They understand the situation, how they will be far better off to go down fighting than be taken alive. Even without our semi-tame torturer, we can make their lives hell. It's Caeo and Arlo who have the pleasure of firing the shots. Caeo going with an instant death in the heart, Arlo going with a debilitating gut shot from a rubber bullet.
Oscar has the third man lying on his stomach under him.
"Where is the kid?" I scream at him.
"You're too late."
"If that is true, you will live a long and painful life." If he’s not going to help then I need to start looking. I don’t want to be the one to find him if we are too late, but I have to be strong enough.
The room is a large space with a double bed in it; very few places to hide a boy whether dead or alive. Seb heads to check the bathroom.
"He isn't here," Caeo deflates as he opens all the body sized wardrobes.
"We've missed something. Go back to the car and update Dad." I'll never tell him, but I don’t want him with me if we are too late. We'll search this room without him.
"In here," Seb calls out. My head turns to the bathroom.
I raise my gun, expecting another kidnapper or a dead body, his tone isn't the hopeful, child-rescuing kind. Caeo goes straight in ahead of me, but I'm only seconds behind. He rips open the shower curtain and reveals a small body kneeling in the empty bathtub. It's Nico; I can tell even with the black bag over his head. He isn’t kneeling under his own will, red rope binds his bare torso, hanging him from a large hook fastened into the ceiling.
"Cut him down," I order, jumping into the tub. My body presses against Nico's, taking his weight and sharing the chill. Caeo cuts the rope tethering him to the shower above, and Nico slumps against me. The bath is too small to do anything, even with Caeo and Seb moving aside, so I haul the boy out into the bedroom. Pulling the mask off reveals my assumption is correct on Nico's identity. His eyes are closed, his lips blue around the gag, but even when I pull the material free, his breathing sounds raspy and laboured.
"Cut the rope," I order. The rope is twisted into triple thickness, wrapped around his chest and arms, then a second loop wrapped around his abdomen and lower arms. More rope binds his wrists behind his back, and by the time all the rope is cut away, his breathing is easing.
"Good boy, Nico," Caeo praises, his hand rubbing against Nico's arm, his mind so full of relief, he's barely functioning. Nico's pale torso is covered with bruises of all shades, some early ones fading to yellow, some fresh purple, and everything in-between. I have never felt more like a failure than I do right now.
"Legs please," I prompt him. I cut the rope around the boy's thighs while Caeo releases his ankles.
