Page 102 of Isaac

Tucci answers only in a gritted-teeth symphony of anguish.

"Load him up," I order and remove my boot from his hand, then turn around and head in the direction of the cargo that just landed. For now, Tucci isn’t important. My boys will throw him into the back of the SUV until it’s time to talk to him again.

I need to see theshipmentfor myself.

The plane's cargo door opens, and like a grotesque parade, young girls stumble out, their eyes wide with fear. My stomach turns as I see a couple of boys among them, no older than thirteen or fourteen.

"Fuck," I whisper under my breath, clenching my fists so tightly that my nails bite into my palms. This is worse than I'd anticipated. There are just too many of them and they are all underage judging by their looks.

"What the hell are we going to do with them?" Jeremy asks, his voice tight.

I glance at him as if he can possibly have the answer to his own question.

"Don’t even suggest we play foster parents," he jokes with half his heart. "Purgatory’s daycare service ain’t got no room."

"We gonna have to call the authorities. We’re not equipped to help these kids. We’re here for one thing only. Tucci."

"Shit. Okay. If you say so."

"Make that call and let’s roll before they arrive."

I march over to the SUV and my eyes flicker over to the kids herded together and shivering in fear. Their wide-eyed stares drill into me, ice-cold needles boring into my soul and thawing an unusual sentiment within—the anxious weight of being responsible for their tomorrows. No, I can't be their saving grace. The under-the-table work or protection that I could possibly offer isn't going to cut it anymore. Not when there are so many of them. I'm already risking it by taking care of Marina.

This gig is bigger—something only the U.S government has any hope of fixing. They’re bound for some decent place eventually; transfer papers in hand, a competent attorney should be upturning every stone for their case soon. They have got a fighting chance in there.

"Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!" Jeremy's voice echoes through the night as we quickly evaporate into the shelter of our vehicles. Like ghosts retracting back into shadows—as stealthy and unseen as we were on our arrival.

It’s only when we clear the airport limits do I feel my senses slowly returning. Resurrection from some sort of sensory death. Behind me, Hawk’s existence begins to imprint itself again, a tangible entity in the back seat–quiet and immobile. A glance over my shoulder could reveal our secret, yet I can’t resist.

I need to see him.

Need to know he’s fine.

It's an emotion more potent than anything I’ve known—striking terror deep into my core.

We drive then. Drive in near-silence until we reach a stretch of land outside the city housing yet another Thoreau building. The SUV tires screech impatiently as we pull up to the warehouse. The night air is heavy and foreboding when we file out. My heart pounds in my chest, a relentless drumbeat of adrenaline matching the tempo of my anger. Jeremy and Hector help Ricky to drag Tucci out of the other vehicle.

"Get him inside!" I command, my voice tight with suppressed fury as I pause for a second in front of the entrance.

They waste no time, shoving him through the warehouse doors and into an empty, poorly lit space.

The rest of my guys follow inside.

"Let me go, you motherfucker!" Tucci squeals, his bravado returning despite the fear lurking in his eyes. "Let me go, Blade! Or you’re gonna pay for it!"

I don’t react.

I need a second. A second to get my wits together because I know whatever happens next is going to unravel my already fragile relationship with Maurice, a relationship built on nothingbut lies. Lies he’s been keeping to himself all these years for one reason only—I’m useful.

A hand lands on my shoulder. "You okay?" Hawk asks.

It’s only me and him here with the exception of two guys working the perimeter. But their eyes aren’t on me. Their eyes are on the sunless desert landscape. And even if they spot us, they can’t tell what’s going on from a distance. They’ll see a boss and an employee talking. Not two men with a dirty shared secret.

I turn to look at Hawk, our gazes meet in the darkness and something passes between us. Something equally sick and good. It’s almost physical. Like I can touch it if I can concentrate hard enough.

And then Jeremy’s warning rings in my head.

You know who else showed up recently?

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