Page 42 of Keeping Caroline
“Alright, then.” I ran a hand through my hair before pulling my hoodie over my head. Tristan did the same. If we were going to find my sister, we needed to blend into the shadows. “We’ll pick off the guards on patrol first, since it’ll be easier to hide from their buddies. Then, we will hit the two guys in the back,” I said, straightening my legs. “We’re getting her out of there—tonight.”
The pale moon cast its silvery glow over the forest, but the brush was thick, allowing us to move like ghosts through the darkness. I had given Tristan specific instructions on his part in the rescue because I knew he was out of his element, no matter how badly he wanted to find her. Still, he was armed, and he was a big guy, so if he had the opportunity to take a guard down, then I wanted him to do it. I just did not want to see something happen to him, or to have him taken too, not when I already had Caroline to save.
Moving through the trees toward the warehouse, my blade was a comforting weight in my hand, the hilt worn smooth from years of use. Two shadows detached from the tree line ahead, lumbering into view—the guards making their rounds.
Before they could see us, I reached for Tristan’s arm, pulling him deeper into the foliage, where we waited for them to pass our position. Tristan slid a hunting knife out of the holster at his thigh, making me just a little bit proud.
As the two mobsters sauntered past, seeming to not have a care in the world, I stepped out onto the trail behind them. My arm snaked around the nearest guard’s throat, cutting off his airway before he could make a sound. When his buddy turned to see what was going on, Tristan struck out with his knife, catching the other guy in the stomach. He crumpled to his knees with a choked cry, arms wrapped around his middle.
The guard in my grasp scratched uselessly at my arm, his gun dangling from his shoulder. “Shh,” I whispered, tightening my hold. “It will all be over soon.”
His struggles ceased within moments as my blade severed his spinal cord. Stepping around to where his buddy was still on the ground, barely conscious as he bled out, I had no problems putting him out of his misery.
Leaving the two gangsters where they fell, we pressed on, and I wondered if the darkness within me would ever truly fade away, or if I was forever doomed to carry the burden. One thing was for certain, I would do whatever it took to protect the ones I loved, even if it meant sacrificing a piece of myself in the process, but with Scarlett and our daughter on the way, I needed to be a better man. I needed to be worthy of them—something I knew I would never be—but my Little Red disagreed, and fuck if I did not love her for it.
In the cover of the forest, we made our way around the ramshackle building that looked so out of place in the dense forest. I was not sure what it was previously used for, but judging from the exterior, I thought it may have been used for logging, but it had clearly been vacant for decades, judging not only from the condition of the structure but from the logging road as well. From what I could see, the kidnappers had probably been forced to hike in as well, as there were no vehicles parked nearby.
Pausing near the side of the building, I peered around the corner toward the back entrance, spotting the two guards who still lingered near a fire barrel. The cherry of a cigarette illuminated the face of one, but the other had his back to me, both men seeming completely clueless as to our presence as they chatted on. Flicking his cigarette, the one facing our direction muttered something to his friend and walked toward the other side of the building, probably to take a piss.
I met Tristan’s gaze, holding up two fingers. His jaw tightened, but he gave a curt nod, knowing what needed to be done, even if he did not like it.
“One of them just went around the building to take a piss,” I whispered, gripping the hilt of my weapon. “Stay here. If I don’t return, make sure you get inside that door.”
There was a brief flash of panic across Tristan’s eyes, but he masked it quickly and nodded, his hand tightening on the knife at his side.
Leaving Tristan where he stood, I crept around to the other side of the building, peeking around the corner. It took a moment for me to find him with how dark it was, but luckily my target was a chain smoker, so the flame of his lighter caught my attention as he stepped into the trees. I took a quick scan of the area around me and then stepped in behind him. Before he had a chance to pull out his cock, I reached for him, pressing my blade against his throat, and tugging him against my front.
“Scream and my hand slips,” I said, putting a tiny bit more pressure against his skin.
He stilled, his cigarette hitting the ground at our feet. “Whaddya want man?”
My hand tightened around his other arm, making damn sure he did not touch his weapon. “The girl. Where is she?”
“Wh-what girl, man? I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.”
“Wrong answer, buddy.” Tsking, I pressed my knife a little deeper, until I knew it broke his skin. A pathetic whine left his lips, but he did not fight. “If you want your head still attached to your body when your family sees you again, you’ll tell me where the girl is.”
His body tensed, but he did not budge. “She’s in one of the storage rooms near the front offices, b-but she’s in bad shape, man. Aresco’s man did a number on her.”
A toxic mix of rage and dread fueled my movements as I sliced into his throat, my ears ringing as I walked away from him and back toward Tristan. I did not stop when I found him where I’d left him and instead continued forward, toward the unsuspecting guard with his back toward me. There was no hesitation when I plunged my knife into his back, and I did not care if he was still breathing when I reached for the door. My sister was hurt, and there was nothing that would stand in my way of getting to her.
Tristan caught up with me as I turned the handle and peeked in through the door, but he remained silent. Although we had taken out five of the guards outside, we had no way to know how many people were inside. It was on the list of questions I had planned to ask, but hearing my sister was in bad shape had changed my priorities.
The shadows embraced us as we slipped inside the decrepit warehouse, the tang of rust and damp wood saturating the stale air. The darkness was almost suffocating, but it was our only protection. The blood of the two back door guards still dripped off my blade as I stared into the darkness, but I did not care. There would be more soon. My heart hammered in my chest, threatening to burst, but I did my best to remain calm. Somewhere in the labyrinth of abandoned offices and equipment, my sister was being held captive. I could not let the panic take hold, though it gnawed at my edges like a rabid dog.
Leaving the door to freedom behind, we moved through the cavernous warehouse, barely more than shadows ourselves as we wove between hulking machines shrouded in tarps. Each sound seemed amplified, the drop of water from a leaky pipe, our own breaths growing ragged with tension. The only thing I did not hear were voices. I had no idea where the others were, but I knew they were there. With it being almost sunrise, I hoped they were asleep. Without electricity, it was nearly impossible to see, so we followed the corridor toward the direction of the front of the building, hoping it was the right way.
The faint whiff of cigarette smoke met my nose as we turned the corner to find two guards lingering in the hallway before us. There was no way to hide from their view, and my instincts told me the door behind them would lead me to Caroline, so I lunged.
The first guard charged toward me, swinging a baton at my head. Ducking out of the way, I drove my blade into his gut, and he crumpled to the floor with a groan.
Jumping over him, the second guard pulled a knife from his belt and lunged at us. I sidestepped the attack and delivered a sharp blow to the back of his head. He staggered back, temporarily dazed, but stayed on his feet.
Not giving him time to recover, I moved in, slashing at him with my blade. He was clearly an experienced fighter and parried my strikes. Before I could move out of the way, he kicked me hard in the chest. The wind knocked out of me, I stumbled back. The guard pressed his advantage, raining down blows with his knife. I blocked what I could, but the knife found my shoulder, slicing through my hoodie and meeting skin. Against the wall, the other guard returned to his feet, fumbling for the gun in his holster. Running out from behind me, Tristan reached for his arm, fighting to wrench the gun free.
Seeing me temporarily distracted, my opponent rushed for me, the bloody knife in his hand. Gritting my teeth against the pain in my shoulder, my blade hit the ground as I grabbed his wrist.
For several long moments, we struggled over the knife, my energy waning. At the last second, as my arm threatened to give out, Tristan grabbed the guard from behind and pulled him into a chokehold. Turning away from me altogether, the guard struggled violently, but Tristan’s grip was like iron. With a final spasm, the guard went limp in Tristan’s arms and then dropped to the ground. I wasted no time bending over to pick up my blade and send him to the same place as his friends.