Page 46 of My Silver Fox Savior

I focus. The last thing I need is to black out like I did on the apple tree job, only this time, with a pistol in my hand.

My body begins to ache about two hours in, and I need to take a leak. I seem invisible as I sit here and sip. Nobody gives a damn about some drunk homeless guy in a neighborhood that’s full of them. I just keep waiting. I don’t care how long it takes or if my bladder bursts.

Finally, at around half past midnight, the music gets much quieter. About ten minutes later, men swagger from the bar, heading to the apartment building on the other side of the street. I take out the camera and set it in my lap, covering the light with my hand when I click record. I don’t know if the angle is any good. I can’t move around too much or make it too obvious.

Then I see him, the sick fuck. I watch as Damon walks, like the biggest, baddest man who ever lived, right up to a window and knocks on it. He must say something, but I can’t hear. I see it, though. As the window opens, I watch a boy, maybe a teenager, jump out. He’s laughing.

The sick fuck has convinced them he’s their friend until he has enough, and then … I take a risk, adjusting the camera so I can see the viewscreen. I get a video of Damon lifting one girl from her bedroom window.

“Uncle Damon,” she calls out loud enough for me to hear.

I’d wonder how this could be possible, but I’ve seen enough deadbeat, junkie parents to understand how it could happen. Their parents are probably passed out, not even thinking of their kids, too doped up to be jolted from sleep. Or maybe Damon has even paid some of them off.

The men return to the bar with around six children, walking around to a side exit. I have to stop myself from following them. I have to remind myself that they won’t hurt them, or they haven’tyet.

I will need to get this video to Ethan, who can get it to his cop buddies. Then I’ll give them twenty-four hours to shut this shit down, or I’ll go nuclear. I can’t leave this life knowing this is still happening.

Once the street is quiet again—not a single parent has raised the alarm—I move around to the side of The Bear. They’ve taken them to a small basement door that could be missed easily. I get some extra footage of that, take a piss in the alleyway, and then return to my spot.

I can’t leave until I see those kids back in their homes. I wonder if I should call the cops. I could tell them that kidnapped children are in the basement of The Bear right now. The cops have been called before, and nothing has happened. Still, surely, I have to try.

My primary concern is that these freaks haven’t hurt the kidsyet. If they suddenly hear sirens—and somehow hide the kids or grease the cops—then I might force their hand. Maybe they’ll realize they need to speed up this sick process.

I chew the inside of my cheek, wishing the world was simpler, wishing I could just go in there and challenge Damon to a fair fight. A rat like him, dealing in the sick shit he does, would never agree to it, but if he had the stones, it would make this so much easier for everybody involved.

Taking out my cell to check the time, I almost instinctively call Lily. The quick dinner and all those revelations at the apartment have made me feel even closer to my mortality. It’s like having a small preview of what we could share if given a chance, but it has hammered home the fact that I’ll neverhavethat chance.

I put my cell away, still chewing the inside of my cheek. Insane visions tempt me as I sit here, trying not to think about her, but I see the future—an impossible one. Regardless, I see her sitting with a baby in her arms. I see her smiling at me during a celebration dinner after she gets promoted. I see her moaning with her wedding dress draped over the end of the bed, tearing her nails down my back.

Blinking, I rub my eyes. I need to get a hold of myself. She’s brought so much to the surface.

What thehellam I going to do? I take out my cell again. The cold, ugly truth is that those men could do anything to those kids, but they’re probably still in the grooming stage.

I stand up, put my hand on my chest, and feel the gun. This is driving me nuts. Then it hits me like a cold slap in the face. Lily was right. Things like this have been happening all over the city, and I was in my penthouse or a high-rise someplace, severing marriages.

I’ve got to decide?—

A scream cuts through my thoughts—a child’s, high-pitched and terrified. It’s muffled coming from the back of the bar, but then I hear another.

I’m running fast, no longer thinking or feeling anything other than cold and focused. The basement door is metal and looks difficult to open from the outside. I take out my P365 and use the butt to hammer it over and over until I feel it open.

Quickly, I move to the side of the door and into the shadows. I’m not blacked out this time, but the same cold aggression has gripped me. The same feeling I experienced when I tied that man’s body up in the tree.

A burly man walks up the stairs. “What the …”

I dive on him and smash the gun over his head. He stumbles and falls to his knees. I hit him again, and he falls flat on his face. He won’t be out for long, but he’ll be damn groggy when he wakes up. Moving fast, I aim my gun down the basement stairs.

When I turn the corner, the door at the end of the narrow hallway bursts open, and a little girl runs out.

“Will somebody get her?”a man’s voice roars. I’m sure it’s Damon.

Staring at my gun, the girl freezes when she sees me. She’s got a red braid over one shoulder, and her eyes are the same shade of red, bloodshot and full of pain. She’s been crying.

“I won’t hurt you,” I tell her.

Damon appears in the doorway behind her, a grin on his face. “You brave bastard.”

“This shit ends tonight,” I snarl, pointing the gun at his head.

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