Page 86 of Any Means Necessary

He looks like he’s about to say something, but the sound of his phone ringing cuts him off. He’s been on the phone from the moment we stepped out of the garage, coordinating what he refers to as the ‘Harris retrieval’. Answering the call, he walks over to the other side of the kitchen to where his laptop sits on the counter. I can still feel his eyes stray over to me every so often while I preoccupy myself with my sketchbook.

When Roscoe comes in from the garage a while later, he’s changed into different clothes and he looks scrubbed clean. Pulling out the island stool, he quietly takes a seat next to me at the counter. He’s not usually the talkative type to begin with, but this silence is more cautious than usual. He’s worried about me too.

Taking a cracker from the small tray of meats and cheeses Callum placed in front of me the moment I sat down in the kitchen, I pop it into my mouth before sliding the platter over to Roscoe in offering. He reaches over and selects a green olive, making me scrunch my nose in exaggerated disgust when he tosses it in his mouth. He’s not a huge fan of olives, he’s only eating it because he knows I won’t. He makes a show of licking his fingers, making me laugh. I shake my head and turn back to my sketchbook. We sit in a comfortable silence to the sound of Callum’s deep voice carrying across the kitchen.

Chapter Thirty-Two: Callum

“When we arrive at the shipyard, don’t leave this car. Roscoe will stay with you.” I say, checking the magazine before slamming it back into place and pulling back the slide to chamber a round with a resounding chink.

“What? Why?” Lexie looks from the gun in my hand to me. She’s eager to get there, eager to come to the little girls’ rescue. And she will, I’ll make sure of it. But shipments like this come with some pretty grizzly reinforcement to ensure the cargo makes it to the destination, there’s too much money on the line to leave it up to chance. And I’ll be damned if I let Lexie step into harms way, little girls or not. Lottie Harris might be the job, but Lexie is my priority.

“This shipment will come with some kind of security,” I explain, deciding that honesty is the best approach in this situation. “We don’t know what kind of situation we’re about to walk into. I need you to stay safely in the car until it’s cleared.” Lexie nods in understanding. She’s smart, I know she realizes the reality of these circumstances. Her eyes latch to mine, insistent.

“Those girls have already been through so much, they’re gonna be traumatized. They’re probably terrified out of their minds, especially of men. I should be there when you open the container, not a bunch of goons with guns.” She has a point, something I’ve already considered. Lexie is a big part of the plan, mostly to find Lottie and get her safely into the car before the others arrive.

“I’ll come get you once it’s safe. You don’t leave this car until I come for you.” My eyes drill into hers. The gravity of my words hit her, I can see when they register. She blinks at me once, processing, then she nods in agreement. A small weight lifts from my chest.

“Ok, I’ll wait for you.”

Thank fucking Christ.

She knows exactly what’s at stake, not letting her emotions towards the young victims cloud her judgment. My instructions aren’t a power trip, they’re what’s best for everyone involved. She doesn’t realize just how much her safety matters. The last thing I need is Lexie going rogue on me and putting herself in danger. If anything happens to this woman, there’s no contract or job that will keep the world safe from my wrath.

“That’s my girl.” There’s a soft edge of praise in my voice, warming her eyes. My pretty pink nurse, with her soft curves wrapped in pastel pink scrubs, and long blonde hair pulled into a ponytail. She’s a ray of light, exactly what we need.

Climbing out of the car, I walk around the corner of the metal hangar to where the rest of the team parked. Enzo stands with the hired guns, seven of them total. I’ve worked with The Ghost Ops team on numerous occasions. Their team leader, Rio Castillo, is the best at what they do—it’s something we have in common. And I need the best. I’m leaving nothing to chance.

Greeting the team, I update them on the new details we extracted from Jimmy while getting our intercoms set up. Rio instructs his men on our approach, taking this new info into account. We’ll be treating this freight yard like a grid, each Ghost taking a section. Enzo and I will take the perimeter and work our way towards the center. Once the right container is found and secured, I’ll collect Lexie before we open it.

Unholstering their weapons, the team splits up into their assignments. I slowly make my way along the outside of the shipyard, hugging the stacked containers with my gun drawn. My earpiece beeps as one of the other men reports to the group.

“We have a sighting in sector two, lower west corner. Armed with automatic.” The voice reports. Gunshots ring out, echoing through the metal maze, followed by male shouts. Turning the corner, I see movement out of the corner of my eye.

Enzo walks around from the other side to meet me in the middle. I slow my steps, allowing him to reach the center aisle before me. Rounding the corner slowly, he visually clears the area before stepping into the opening. Waiting for him to pass the first intersection, I follow behind him. After Enzo passes the opening between rows of containers, an armed man emerges from the shadows behind him. His casual clothing, unmarked bullet-proof vest, and the automatic weapon slung on across his chest tell me that he’s one of the traffickers we’re here to take care of.

His sweaty arms lift the semi-automatic weapon, aiming at Enzo’s retreating form with intent in his beady eyes. He’s going to shoot, but I don’t give him the chance. Raising my own gun, I beat him to the trigger. The bullet explodes from the chamber and enters the side of his skull cleanly, the life leaving him instantly as his body falls like a puppet with cut strings. The sound of my gun echoes through the alley of metal walls, making Enzo turn. He watches as I lower my gun, looking at the dead man. There’s no hesitation when he pivots to stride back towards me.

“I guess I owe you one,” he comments knowingly, eyeing his would-be executioner.

“I’ll think of a way for you to repay me. You can start by getting rid of him.” The last thing I want is Lexie to see the dead body. The body of a man I just pulled the trigger on without even blinking. The sight would break her heart, I need to protect her from it. Plus, we can’t have dead bodies scattered around when we bring the girls out of the container. Hysterics aren’t part of today’s plan.

“I’m on it.” Enzo holsters his weapon to unarm the corpse, slinging the machine gun over his shoulder, before dragging the dead man away by his ankles.

“We’re clear. Freight container ACMU 2834661.” Tarik’s voice sounds in my ear. Perfect. I’m already making my way back to where I left Lexie in the car, my legs moving with a purpose.

“Stand by, don’t open it until I give the order.”

“Copy.”

Relief floods Lexie’s face when I open the car door, her expressive eyes searching me for signs of injury. “I heard the gunshots.”

“I’m ok, Dewdrop,” I assure her. “It’s safe for you to come out now.” I hold my hand out to her, and she accepts it without pause. Helping her out of the car, I make eye contact with Roscoe over her head where he sits in the driver’s seat, gun ready. I nod my thanks, and he’s moving to open the door and join us.

Keeping her hand in mine, Lexie’s other arm wraps around my bicep. I can feel her nerves, and I can’t help but revel in how she clings to me for comfort. She trusts me to keep her safe, an honor I don’t plan on failing.

The men back away from the container as soon as the doors are open, taking their large firearms and stepping out of sight. Lexie’s grip on my arm shifts with anxiety, and I look down at the top of her blonde head. Giving her hand a reassuring squeeze, she glances up at me before her shoulders straighten with determination. Letting go of my arm, I let her step away to approach the container. It’s almost completely dark inside the metal box, making it an adjustment to see what’s inside.

Huddled closely together in the farthest corner, the girls cling together in terror. No less than fifty dirty little heads cower, eyes casting alarmed glances at the open doors, squinting against the harsh sunlight. Their whimpers and cries echo and drift out into the open afternoon.

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