Page 28 of Judas (The Lito Duet #2)

Chapter fourteen

Babel

Present Day

I have seen a lot of shit in my day. And when I say a lot, I mean more than about two metric tons of shit.

Mav sent me to this gig, and we will be having some words once I get back.

He needs an assassin, not protection detail.

While I may have the skill set to wipe this fuck off the face of the Earth, Mav didn’t give me the authority to be a butcher.

This is the Wilson case. Sixteen year old Sadie Aurora Wilson.

Daughter of Nadia Pierce, incarcerated, and Kace Patton, son of Franklin Patton.

Adopted daughter of Victoria and Carl Wilson.

Born at Munising Memorial Hospital in Munising, Michigan.

Biological father and adoptive parents are deceased.

Biological mother still living. Five foot, seven inches tall.

One-hundred and forty-five pounds. Caucasian, platinum blonde hair, blue eyes.

Plays softball, was in cheer, attends therapy sessions once a week, doesn’t drive and has no current job.

Typical suburban neighborhood girl-next-door with a quiet life until all went bad.

Mav mobilized me a week and a half ago, after the girl was already reported as missing.

Her uncle, Lucien Charles Bardot, had abducted her just a few days prior to my arrival.

When I investigated the house, the crime scene wasn’t interesting enough to stay around.

I wasn’t there to determine the cause of death or move bodies, as my services were needed elsewhere.

Leaving her deceased parents lying, a few battlefield flashbacks feeding my PTSD, I did what I do best and hunted both of them down.

On the east side of Duluth, I caught them coming out of a truck stop.

His hand was wrapped firmly around the back of her neck, leading her around possessively.

Before they returned to the car they stole, she wheeled around on him and started giving him an ear full.

Through my binoculars, I watched his face morph into something dark and it set every one of my senses on edge.

Before she was done reaming him, he reached back and slapped her across her already-damaged face.

There are some things I will turn away from, because it’s not my fight, but this is not one of them. Hitting a woman, strike one. Hitting a child, strike two. One more, buddy, and Mav can fucking kiss my ass. I’ll put a bullet between his eyes and let the girl find her way home on her own.

From Duluth, they hit Grand Forks and laid low in a sleazy motel.

What should have been a red flag to the receptionist was normal day-to-day operations when you look at the other…

guests. That night, I watched the TV flicker for hours before it finally shut off around three in the morning.

I keep watch a little while longer before I let my eyes rest—I’m old now and don’t have the same energy I did when I was in the service.

What would have taken a normal person just a couple days, takes these two forever.

I guess this Lucien character is keen on lollygagging around, batting his prey around like mice.

It aggravates the hell out of me but I keep out of sight and don’t charge in.

I was given instruction only to observe, not step in, unless I thought the girl’s life was in immediate danger.

He likes to smack her around; he’s aggressive, physically abusive, but I see the darkness in her eyes too.

She dishes it right back—the most fucked-up dynamic I’ve had to witness and not take point on.

They hit Minot, Fort Peck, Chinook, and now we are in Sandpoint, Idaho, nestled along Schweitzer Mountain.

It’s pretty through here—lots of places to hide, which I don’t like a single bit.

Not with the way these two duck and weave through public like they’re ghosts.

They exist on paper, but right now, this guy is as undocumented as it gets.

On my way out here, my phone blew up on the airplane.

Matter of fact, ‘blow up’ doesn’t quite cover it.

I know I had the damn thing on airplane mode when we took off and there was no need to access the Internet when I had everything I needed downloaded to my phone.

Halfway through the flight, every device around me started to scream and scrawl but mine, though it was silent, was the only one with an actual call sitting on the screen.

When I answered, it was a very intense five minute conversation between myself and some fuck named Havok.

From what he said, he was the one who contacted Mav and threw the entire file at him regarding the Wilson case.

Let me tell you, most people look for the basics—who, what, when, where, how—then do the damn thing, but this guy was beyond thorough.

Some advanced intelligence, Pentagon-Illuminati type shit.

Every year of this girl's life was meticulously labeled, profiled, and placed in the order in which things happened.

I was fucking impressed, to say the least.

When I got to the Wilson residence, I found myself relaying the data to him more than to Mav. I can’t quite explain the camaraderie I developed with Havok then, almost felt like the old days. Which is a different story for a different day.

Havok was able to drag up this guy’s identity and is in the process of sending it over via the satellite link we all use for seamless communication.

I shot Mav a text, getting the access codes and gave him the details.

Let him know that we could dig into the rogue when I get done with the case.

Mav and I butted heads, of course, just like his old man, but he relented.

He had one of the other guys firewall a subsection of the server just for Havok and I to use, then boobytrapped the outside of it like a battlefield.

Definitely like his old man.

Now, I’m waiting for him to finish up what he’s doing and toss the file into the secure server Mav has us use.

I’m not the most tech-savvy man, but it's as easy as a few clicks. Then Havok has my laptop set to auto-open new files in chronological order. That way I can read through them quickly—probably what is taking him so fucking long. While I wait, there’s a ruckus outside of the gas station Little Miss Sunshine and her grim entity stopped at.

He took his time filling the gas tank while smoking a cigarette—fucking idiot—and even went inside.

On his way out, his arms and hands empty, I’m guessing he went to drain his lizard.

Asshole could have taken the girl, too; I’m sure she’s about to burst.

She’s in the trunk, by the way. Not my greatest moment, watching him throw her in there for the second time.

There are too many restrictions around this job that I’m starting to hate.

Being forced to sit back and be more of a spectator than a damn protector.

Whoever is paying for this, they must have attached a bonus or twelve—it’s not like Mav to let this sort of treatment happen in front of one of us.

I taught him better than that; hell, his pops would be smacking him upside the back of the head.

Let’s hope there is a good reason he is making me standby.

Sweeping the binoculars across the parking lot, I see ol’ boy lift the trunk door open and my blood goes nuclear when he reaches inside and grabs Sadie by her dirty hair.

Wrenching her head around, which I know hurts like a bitch, he drags her out until she falls onto the motor oil and petrol grime-coated ground.

The fuck starts leading her around like a show lamb, yanking her head up to force her posture.

Welp, strike three, dickhead.

Throwing my binoculars onto the dashboard, I shove the door open and jump out.

The heavy falls of my boots become masked by the roaring of cars and trucks driving along this main strip of road.

I’m just crossing the street, beelining to the two of them, when my phone starts to scream in my back pocket.

Fucking hell.

Snatching it out, I jab the green bubble that pulses on the screen.

“Get your ass back in the goddamn SVU, Elias. It’s not time.”

“You mind who the fuck you’re talking to.”

“I got you on the damn cameras and now have to scrub you off of them. I will be en route as soon as I’m done. You had to go in all hot-headed before I was ready. Now I have more work to do. Leave the scene, and get back in your damn truck!”

Click .

Havok— he’s a surly son of a bitch.

Minding the cameras, I take a few steps back and watch the two of them together.

He’s walking his little lamb to the fuel pumps—my stomach churns because I know what the fuck he is about to do.

I’ve been to war, for fucks sake. I’ve taken down terrorists, followed protocol, seen many lives sacrificed in front of me but watching this breaks my heart.

Like a bad movie, he pulls out the nozzle, flips the lock to the open position and begins pouring fuel all over that little girl.

Memories of bodies being burned alive smack me like wrecking balls and I can’t stay.

Torn between my duty to the innocent and following formalities, I stalk back to my truck.

The moment I’m inside, it rushes in, my fists collide with the steering wheel and I find myself questioning my loyalty to duty .