Page 46 of Bratva Wolf

Russian obscenities fly out our mouths with Marco growling in Spanish as he runs toward the motel. Wystan meets us at the motel with a key card in his hand. “I convinced the desk guy to give me keys to their rooms.”

Before we hit the door, Anatoly yells to get our attention. “Fingers found footage. Men in a white panel van arrived and took the women out of the back of the truck.”

“Fuck!”

Anatoly’s face falls. “Finger’s loses them at the edge of the property. They knew to avoid the cameras. He’s checking the area surrounding the truck stop.”

Wystan inserts the keycard into the first door, and I shove it open with my gun drawn on the Latino man sleeping on the bed. The light from the exterior shines in just enough to see he’s naked with a woman. Wystan steps away from the door saying he’s going to get to the other room next door.

“Fuck!” The woman isn’t Red, and I’m relieved for a moment, and then the frustration, anger, and worry bubble to the surface as I lunge at the man who’s reaching for a gun. I break his extended arm as my soldier grabs the woman, wrapping her in the blanket and walking her back towards the door.

Wystan arrives, dragging the other man into the room and throwing him down. “Red wasn’t there.”

Marco extends his hand to take the girl, as Wystan takes her from our soldier instead. Marco pulls his arm back as my little brother’s expression forces his hand back to his side.

“Marco. Grab his phone.”

Marco moves to the side table and swipes the phone. “It’s unprotected.” He shakes his head. “Who does that? Everybody locks their phone.” He flicks through and finds the recent calls. “He’s got calls to numbers with no names. Probably burners. I’ll give them to Fingers.”

The man is screaming in the bed, holding his arm. “You broke my arm.”

“That’s just the beginning. Where is the redhead from New Jersey?”

“Oh. Tony said she had a boyfriend.” He pans his gaze around our faces and his head settles on Marco.

The man cocks his head, staring at Marco. “I know you.”

Marco’s grin increases as he hands the phone to Wystan.“Yes. I’m Marco Aguilar. You pissed in the wrong pool. You stole women from our territory. Tsk tsk. Who gave you permission to come into our town?”

The man starts sputtering lies. “I didn’t know.”

Marco yells at him in Spanish, telling the man not to lie. He’s going to die anyway, but maybe he’d like to save his family members.

I jerk the man by his long hair. “Where is she? Who did you give her to?”

“Javier. Javier has her. He liked her. He’ll probably keep her.”

My blood boils, and I press on the man’s broken arm, forcing part of the bone through the skin.

Marco grabs my shoulder. “I’m all for torture, but if he passes out, you can’t get the info. Take his hand.”

The man’s head jerks to Marco as Marco hands me the eight-inch blade he wears on his hip.

“No!” The man screams. “He’s the last call. He has a house on the sound. It’s on Martin’s Point Road in Kitty Hawk. It’s surrounded by trees and has a boat dock. He parks his Land Rover out front because he can’t fit it in the garage. It’s a blue house.”

Wystan relays the information to Fingers, and a beaming smile hits his face as I slice the man’s throat. “Clean up on aisle one.”

The soldier nods as the other man begs while he zip ties him to the bed rail. “Oh God. No. Don’t kill me.”

Anatoly steps back into the room. “I paid the desk clerk to ignore that part of the motel for three hours. I doubt the trafficker is going to last fifteen minutes, but it gives Max more than enough time to clean up.” He points to the soldier, and I nod at Max.

I should have asked him his name but that’s why I’m the hammer. “He’s had her for two hours.”

“We’ll get her.” My brother’s confidence bolsters my hope as I feel Marco’s stare on the side of my face. He doesn’t understand the need for one woman. He has four sons with three different women. I’m not him.

We pull up to the house. My focus catches one single light in the upstairs. It’s probably a bedroom. I motion for my brothers and Marco to enter through the other doors around the house.

Anatoly whispers. “Fingers can’t find access to any cameras in the house. We’re going in blind.”

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