Pulling my gun, I cock the hammer. Behind me, I hear five other firearms do the same thing. We aren’t here to ask questions. Pushing the door open, I see eight guys sitting around watching something on the TV.
Javier and Aaron come out of another room further back. When Javier sees us, he draws his weapon, but it’s too late. With the element of surprise gone, we start shooting. When the blood stops flying, we are the only ones standing. We move through the space, clearing rooms. There doesn’t seem to be anyone else here. Fuck! Where could she be?
In one room, I find Brynn’s wedding rings on a table. I pocket them and keep looking for her. Two more rooms, and nothing.
“Brynn!” Brando yells out every so often the deeper we go into this disgusting, rat and roach-infested building.
“In here,” she blessedly calls. Her voice sounds small to my ears. She’s hoarse. She also sounds desperate. Without a second thought, I lift my foot and kick the piece of shit door to my left in. Frantically, I search the room. Looking down, I see Brynn and Arabella huddled together on the floor. They jump up, and I stare at my wife for a minute before reacting.
Thank God she’s alive. Her poor face is swollen. Black and blue. If that motherfucker wasn’t already dead, I could torture him for years for what he’s done to her, and it still wouldn’t be enough. She looks like she’s been to hell and back, but she’s alive.
Chapter 24
Brynn
Just as dawn breaks on our sixth day in captivity, I hear a loud gunshot from the other room. The metal of the walls makes it echo loudly. Arabella stiffens next to me but thankfully doesn’t make a sound. We clasp hands, and I pray for salvation. I don’t know if she has been around gunfire before or not, but being a New Yorker, the sad truth is she probably has. More gunshots ring out, and it sounds like several different guns going off at once. Eventually, all is quiet. I start to panic when I hear footsteps, thinking this is it. This is how I die.
“Brynn!” I hear my name being shouted from another room. I am pretty sure it’s one of my brothers. Thank you, Jesus! I repeat in my head over and over.
“In here,” I call as loudly as I can manage. My throat is bone dry. The door is kicked in, and suddenly Brendan, my dad, my brothers, Joel, and a man I don’t know are staring down at us, “Oh my God,” I say, scrambling up off of the cold and dirty ground. I am thankful to see Joel alive, but Brendan is who I gravitate to. He’s where I need to be. His strong presence is overwhelming after what feels like forever without him.
“Daddy!” Arabella screams and runs into the unknown man’s waiting arms. He lifts her and swings her around. That explains that. He sets her back down on her bare feet, and I look at each man’s face.
“What did you do?” I ask them all, laughing. I know that I am on the verge of hysteria, but I’m so glad to see them. They are covered in blood, and who knows what else.
“What needed to be done,” Brendan says coolly. “Are you okay?” He gathers me in his strong arms. As soon as his cologne hits me, I burst into tears. I turned my nerdy, video game designer husband into a stone-cold killer. Guilt weighs heavily on me. I turn away from him just in time to puke all over that basement. Like the gentleman he is, he holds my hair back out of my way as I empty the meager contents of my stomach. While Aaron didn’t starve us, he only gave us the bare minimum.
“We are fine. How did you find us?” I ask, wiping my mouth on the torn sleeve of my dress. The shoes Arabella admired days ago are long gone.
“Arabella’s cell phone came on. The idiots didn’t get rid of it,” Bart says, but he can’t stop staring at Arabella. “Are you okay, tiny dancer?” he asks her. She gives him a megawatt smile.
“Yes, sir. I am fine. Brynn needs to be checked out, though.”
“Call me Bart, please. We’ll get you both checked out,” Bart tells her.
“Thank you, Bart. But truly, I am fine. Just cold.” Within seconds, Bart has his blood-stained NYU sweatshirt off of himself and pulled down over her head.
“Thank you,” she says.
“No problem, tiny dancer.”
“It was Aaron,” I say numbly, though they surely knew that, unless he wasn’t here when they stormed the run-down warehouse.
“We know, Cherry. He won’t be bothering you ever again,” Brendan says, rubbing soothing circles over my back. I know I smell terrible and look even worse. All I want to do is go home.