Page 6 of Accepting Fate
Grabbing my truck keys off the island, I run out the door and head to The Hideout, saying a silent prayer that we all make it out alive tonight. No matter what we find.
Chapter Three
Grayson
Drivingthismassivetruckon a warm January day like this should be illegal.
When we started this venture, all of us decided that everyone needed alternative vehicles to our bikes. The main reason being transportation of someone other than ourselves. I started the chain by buying a lifted black Ram 2500. There was no way in hell I was buying some tiny ass car.
Mom was happy when we all got alternative vehicles. I can’t say I blame her because, unbeknownst to her, we have all had a few scary moments due to riding in the rain.
Pulling onto the long driveway of The Hideout, I park next to Noah’s white Jeep Wrangler. As I’m getting out, Wes pulls up beside me in his gray Ford Raptor.
Wes works as a fire pilot for Washington and California. When it’s not prime time fire season, he is the pilot for the helicopters that go on major incidents in the area contracted out of Mount Rainier Medical Center.
As I get out of the truck, Landon opens the front door of The Hideout and yells, “Stop dicking around and get inside. We got to move!”
I shut the door and join Wes on the gravel path. “I see he’s still in alpha mode,” I joke. Wes shakes his head and goes inside.
Wes is a man of few words but when he feels like he can trust you, he opens up. I wouldn’t call him shy. I would say he’s more observant. He speaks up when he feels it's needed. A lot of people think he’s being rude. He opens up around us and our parents but other than that he keeps to himself.
Wes is the oldest at thirty-two. Sometimes I feel like Wes understands me the most out of everyone. I don’t know if it’s because we both hold things to the point it becomes so dark. Or because our roles require us to see the darkest most disturbing parts of a job.
Walking in, I see Lan and Noah sitting at the table in the middle of the open room. The bottom floor is a big open concept with a kitchen, lounge area, conference table, and work area for our bikes. There is a big room that is filled floor to ceiling with supplies for our missions. The entire top floor has bedrooms and bathrooms, one for each brother and a few extras. And a basement that is for storage but is the main passageway to a place I fucking hate visiting.
I join my brothers at the table and look to Landon for him to start the meeting.
“Alright,” Landon begins. “Sorry for the late notice, but I found the Carsons.”
Now he gets straight to the point.
Why couldn’t you fucking have done that when you met me earlier.
Noah cuts him off before he can explain more, “You fucking found them? We have been looking for them for months!”
Landon gives him a nod and continues, “Yes. So, tonight has to be perfect. We cannot let this fucking asshole get away. The victims have been locked in a fucking shed for six months so there’s no telling what condition they will be in. I need everyone to prepare themselves for the worst.”
Landon focuses his attention on Noah, “I know you will want to go in there guns blazing, but we need a calm approach to this guy. He’s calculated and has done everything in his power to keep this hidden for a long time. You will have your time to go all ninja assassin mode but we need to secure him first. I promise you can have your fun before Wes tortures the shit out of him for however long he wants.”
Wes and Noah nod before Landon continues, “Gray, man,” he looks at me with sympathy in his eyes, “this is going to be a hard one for you. I have no idea if the victims are even alive but if they are, they are going to need to get to the hospital as soon as possible. I know we normally all attack at once and then go to the captives, but not this time. Noah, Wes, and I will handle him, you focus on the victims. Don’t worry about us at all, just go get to them. Before we head out, I will help you pack the truck with everything you think will be necessary.”
Fucking shit. I knew this one was going to be bad. If Landon is stressing about it this much, I’m assuming this is going to fucking suck.
A shiver runs down my spine and I shake it off. I need to get into game mode. These two women’s lives are in my hands. They have been through hell; I just hope we aren’t too late.
“Alright,” Lan continues, “Driving arrangements are, Noah and I will be in the Jeep. Wes and Gray will go in the truck. Wes, in case Gray needs to take off immediately you will have to go back with us which might be better anyways because I’m sure we will need help restraining this dickhead. We will wait until later on tonight when traffic dies down since they are located on the other side of the city. That gives us plenty of time to get ready and get our heads on straight. That is about it, any questions?”
I used to hate it when he went all cop mode on us, but it doesn’t allow for any stupid mistakes, so I ignore it.
All of us nod and stand. We know what we need to do and now it's time to execute.
Noah has a thing for naming shit so one day when we were on an impossible rescue, he tried to make light of the situation calling it mission impossible. The name caught on and we have referred to our rescues as missions ever since.
Each one of us has different roles in the missions. We also each have a ritual before we go. Wes’s includes sharpening his tools to ensure maximum torture. The idea of being on the receiving end of that man's knife makes me fucking nauseous. Wes is the executioner. Noah has hands in the physical torture of the abusers, but Wes has a more methodical approach. Depending on how long and hard the captor tortured the victims plays a major factor in how long Wes delivers his torture. I hate watching him deliver his punishments, but it gives me satisfaction that the assholes are receiving the punishment they deserve.
As I walk to the storage room to gather supplies, I see Noah starting his ritual of punching the hell out of a dummy. Noah is our punisher. That dude will go in without a care in the world. The abuser could have a gun pointing at his head and Noah still goes at him like a linebacker. Noah could be fatal, but his main objective is to stun them enough for me to get the victims. He knows he is mainly a distraction for me to get to my task, but he loves it. Noah’s weapon is his body, every piece of himself he can use to take down the assholes he will. He never had an interest in joining Wes, but I have a feeling this time he will.
As I gather the car seat, blankets, clothes, and anything these women may need, I go through my plan for tonight. Get them out and to a hospital as quickly as possible. This is my ritual, standing in the storage room and making sure I have every item to make these poor souls as comfortable as possible.