the kids into our vehicles, and drive north to one of our safe houses. Wrath is working on transferring our cargo out of the area once they’re secure.”
The instant Bas pulled in front of the Disciples’ lead vehicles, Ghost’s order came through the comms. “On my go, gentlemen. Three…two…one. Go! Go! Go!”
Bas gripped the steering wheel, cranking it hard to the right. Before it stopped, Iggy and the other three Brethren in the back jumped to the ground, racing toward their target. A few pops from their M4 assault rifles and the driver and his partner were neutralized.
At the same time, squealing tires, the sickening sound of metal meeting the ground drew their attention to the second van.
“Sonofabitch.” Iggy took off running, his M4 held ready. The others followed, stomachs twisting.
The second van had rolled twice to lay on its side. The driver and his partner were either dead or out cold. Setting his rifle aside, Iggy fought with the door while the others covered him. After considerable effort, he tore it open, jolted at the horror inside.
Rock joined him, both staring before jumping to action. Rock turned to the others, motioning them forward. A moment later, after dispensing with the Disciples in the truck, Ghost and his men crowded around.
“Shit,” Ghost muttered, drawing a flashlight to see the tangle of young arms and legs inside. “Bas, take two men and move the kids from the second van into our vehicle. The rest of you stay and help get these kids out of here.”
“Do you want us to right the van, Ghost?” Boomer asked.
“Negative.”
Climbing inside, Ghost and Rock carefully lifted each child, carrying them to the open door. They handed them to the waiting Brethren, who made certain Boomer checked each one over. As their backup medic, he’d determine if their injuries were severe enough to warrant time in a hospital.
Twelve children, all alive, were freed, two requiring X-rays, one with a concussion. Overall, better than the men expected.
Loading the two needing X-rays into the Disciples’ truck, Boomer drove out. It would be a while before Big T noticed the truck missing and his cargo gone.
Ignoring the whimpers and dragging feet of the children, the men loaded the remaining twenty-two children inside the two vans, with several Brethren to bandage scrapes, provide water, and dispense mild pain killers.
“Red to Big Bird.”
“Big Bird here, Red. SITREP.” Wrath ordered the situation report, even though he’d been on the comms during the extraction.
“One van rolled. Boomer is transporting two children to the emergency room in the tango’s truck. The rest are on their way to the safe house. Four Disciples neutralized. Two knocked out when the van rolled. All six and their two vans remain at site. The site is clear and secure.”
“Roger that, Red. I’ll give Ethan a heads up about the two heading to emergency and ask him to contact social services about the children.”
“Shit’s going to come back on us, Big Bird.”
“And it will spread to Demons Blood. Worth it to save twenty-four children,” Wrath answered.
“Roger that. Over.”
Hawthorne’s Steak House
Gunner checked the time, wondering at the outcome of the mission to report on the transfer of merchandise into the Disciples’ hands. He’d been pissed when Wrath told him to take a night off. Sitting on the sidelines during a mission, no matter how benign, didn’t work well for him. In a few days, he’d leave with Chaos for their scheduled training, missing more potential operations. Shaking off his frustration, Gunner focused on the two women at the table.
“Tell us about the offer, Mom.” Katrina stabbed another bite of salad, waiting for her mother to elaborate on the new job.
“Well, I start in two weeks. He’s going to send me links for online training for some programs they use at the ranch. I may need your help getting through them.” Teri chuckled, the expression on her face showing how much she looked forward to the change. “I’ll make about twice as much as now and won’t work on Saturdays. Brodie did mention the end of the month might require extra hours.”
“Brodie’s the rancher?” Gunner tipped back his beer.
Teri moved her salad plate aside. “Brodie Jurgensen. His family’s been in the area for six generations.”
Gunner hid his surprise, not wanting them to know the Brethren’s connection to the taciturn rancher. Unless he was mistaken, Jurgensen was ex-Special Forces. Wrath said Delta. He owned huge acreage in the area, allowing the Brethren to use a private lake for training. It wasn’t the ocean,