Page 105 of Demitri

“Okay, people, we’re going in.” Mary’s quiet announcement is like a blanket over my world. Everything goes silent. My vision narrows to the entry door on the front of the building. I watch as they silently go in, one by one, throwing up hand signals I don’t understand.

Mary comes to my side with a tablet and shows it to me. It’s a live feed of what’s going on split into four sectors.

“These are the four leads. We have angles from everyone who just went into that building so we can switch if we need to.”

“Am I supposed to be watching this?”

“No. So, don’t look. I’m going to stand right here and do my job.”

“I don’t know if you’re a really good agent or not.”

“I’m an agent who doesn’t give a fuck anymore. I do what I want within the limits of the law, and fuck everything else.”

“Fuck, yeah.” Joker fist bumps her. “You are my favorite DEA agent.”

“Only because Davis wasn’t DEA,” she deadpans.

Joker grins. “You’re still salty he got your score, aren’t you?”

“I had to work in an office and deal with hormonal newly freed college kids, Joker. Davis got to be the cool bartender. You tell me.”

Mary flips him off and then touches her ear. “I hear you. Subjects located on second floor. Notify when places set.”

I look at the second-floor windows, saying prayers to any God that will listen to me.Please let him be okay.The windows are cracked. Some boarded up, like they gave up long ago. And still others so covered I’d be surprised if light filters through.

“On my mark. Go. Go. Go.” Mary starts tapping on the tablet, and I stare at it, holding my breath. With the press of a button, she makes the voices of those inside the building audible.

“Unit one, go. Unit two, follow.”

“I’ve found them. Unit one, upper quadrant.”

“DEA! Arms up!”

“Put the weapon down!”

“On the ground. Get on the ground!”

And then I see him. Demitri. His head is hanging to one side, and he looks like someone hit him with a two by four. His eyes are swollen, blood coming out of his nose, his jaw is at an odd angle. His arms are tied behind his back and his legs have been restrained, too. The pain etched on his face is evident. In his whole body. His shoulder is sticking at an odd angle, his foot looks wrong. He’s not well, that’s for fucking sure.

“Oh, God. Is he breathing?” I ask.

“Verify life,” Mary calls into her earpiece thing.

“Verified. Vic is breathing on his own. Some damage, but I’m pretty sure he’ll live.”

The voice coming through the tablet is my lifeline. Demitri’s breathing.

“Let’s take care of business so we can get him the help he needs. Wrap it up quick.”

Mary taps the screen, probably turning off the volume, and smiles at me. “We’ll get him out as soon as we can.”

“Thank you,” I mouth, unable to talk. My eyes overflow with the tears I’ve barely kept at bay so I could watch the screen.

I pull out my phone, and through blurry eyes I text Grace to let everyone know we found him and he is going to be okay.

Aunt Linda pulls me in for another hug, and I completely break down. She doesn’t stop me, which I’m surprised by since this woman isn’t usually one to let us get away with things like having breakdowns.

And it only lasts a couple of minutes.

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