SWNOVELS Good Behavior: Chapter 21
It’s been a week since Justin, Charlie, Bram, and I went to the property next door. Charlie explained he and Erik work with a team in Wimberley—Erik’s cousin Anders is on this team, apparently—and they have people who were able to tap into the property’s Wi-Fi and security cams. Unfortunately, they later discovered that the cameras around the insta-building aren’t attached to a power source, and only one of the house cams has a partial view of the fenced-in area. Wimberley remotely adjusted the camera a little, but the angle still isn’t great.
Another perk of working with Wimberley is that they upgraded all our comms equipment, including providing sleek, powerful body cameras for everyone. Erik is grumbling about nosy geek squads and corporate overreach, but Bram seems relieved. He’s not thrilled I’m on this operation, but he feels better knowing he’ll be able to see what’s happening around me.
Wimberley also ran the weird code Bram took pictures of. Best they can tell, the numbers and letters refer to at least three dozen different people and their ovulation cycles. Nothing good comes from these assholes having that kind of information, but we didn’t have enough to go on until two nights ago when our one useful security camera on the main house picked up a couple of panel vans entering the fenced-in area.
Charlie included me in the meeting with Erik, Bram, and Levy when he told us the Wimberley crew took out the main trafficking organization responsible for all of this and badly crippled it. I took from that meeting that several enterprising offshoots are scrambling for their piece of the pie. Since Charlie’s neighbor is one of the scattered pieces Wimberley is going after, we had to wait to coordinate with them and the logs Charlie found.
During this time, we discover what makes Charlie lose his chill: sitting on his hands while the enemy is literally next door. The upshot? The barn is pristine, and there’s new shrubbery along the path between the houses and the barn.
According to the intelligence, this is the best night to go in because Joanna and her team are doing an overnight in Laredo on the Texas-Mexico border, where members of the Wimberley crew will be there to greet them.
So I wait in the shadows with Anders and his buddy, Hopper, while Erik and Charlie secure the building and Bram and Levy wait in the Wild Heart Ranch truck just outside the gate.
I’ve been to a few more of the Sunday dinners now and heard more than saw that Anders is a little…how should I say? Not quite sane. Seeing it up front and personal, though? Yikes.
Then add in Hopper, who is even less sane? Double yikes.
As I sit in the weeds in the dark, flanked by Killer Number One and Killer Number Two, I’m starting to wonder if maybe you gotta be a little bit nuts to make this your life’s purpose.
“House is clear,” Erik’s voice comes over the line. He and Charlie went in first and verified everyone was gone, save for one very unfortunate low-level grunt who’s been handcuffed to something sturdy. They also set it up so we could switch from body to exterior cams on the app Wimberley had us download on our phones.
Here’s hoping they don’t judge my porn choices.
Charlie’s voice is the next to come over the comms. “The little boy isn’t here,” he says, his voice heavy with regret.
“We’ll track him down,” Anders says in a weirdly soothing tone.
“And if they hurt him, we’ll make them pay,” Hopper adds, equally gentle in his delivery.
Honestly, it’s off-putting. Worse, earlier, as we were getting into position, Hopper casually mentioned that he’s asked to be included on these missions because hurting traffickers makes him feel all warm and bubbly inside.
“Like a bottle of champagne left out in the sun,” he said, bouncing on his toes and delightedly clapping his hands.
“But…there’s only the one guy,” I point out. “The guard. And he’s already been captured.”
Hopper shrugs. “Good enough.”
So…yeah. Sucks to be that guy.
Charlie and Erik make their way over to the tall fence surrounding the insta-building, slipping through the subtle cut in the chain-link fence I left on our last visit. Their fancy new body cams are set to night vision and everything looks alien and green but crisp as fuck.
They methodically make their way around the building, checking each door, verifying all are locked. More importantly, the sounds of people on the other side of those doors come through loud and clear on the brand-new comms.
While that makes my gut churn, Hopper seems a little less bouncy, which I find fascinating. Obviously, I should leave well enough alone, but…I gotta know what it’s like in his head.
“You seem pretty focused.”
He grins broadly. “When it’s go time, my head gets real quiet.” He stares off a bit, rubbing his thumb against the pads of his fingers. “It’s like that first skate on freshly resurfaced ice at Rockefeller. Fast and quiet.”
I’ve never been ice skating, and I’ve never been to New York City. But I still understand exactly what he means, and it sends a shiver up my spine. First, warm bubbles. Then, blades on ice. Got it.
I could start a podcast.
I set aside the fact I’m squeezed between two serial killers and refocus on the phone in Anders’ hand. We watch as Erik produces a set of picks and makes quick work of the simple lock. It takes a moment for us to understand the scene, but then Charlie and Erik switch the cameras to full-light mode. The room they enter is set up like a baby ward, and young women in various stages of pregnancy and postpartum fill the space.
“What the fuck is this?” Levy hisses over the line.
Nobody answers because we all know his question is rhetorical. We know exactly what we’re looking at. A real live baby mill.
Cries come in from a room off to the side, and the guys go barging in as a young woman, looking barely of age, is handed a brand-new baby, still covered in afterbirth. She’s being assisted by two terrified medical personnel, and all four of them are screaming.
Given how our guys look in head-to-toe black tactical gear, it’s a reasonable response. Erik, who’s at least six and a half feet tall, looks especially intimidating.
“Well, that’s something you don’t see every day,” Hopper whispers. “Women are so badass.”
True. But not really the point.
Charlie and Erik back out of the room with their hands up, trying to show they mean no harm. They scope out the rest of the place, and every new thing we see chills me to the bone. The worst is the—thankfully empty—room with shackles built into the wall.
“The place is clear, y’all. Bring in Nacho.”
Anders turns to me. “You ready for this?”
I let out a long breath. “Probably not. But let’s do it anyway.”
In a general sense, Charlie is talking about using me remotely when their Spanglish won’t cut it. I, however, asked to come on this one since it’s literally right next door and seemed like a simple op. Heh.
God, I’m hilarious.
Anders stands and reaches out his hand to me. I take it and let him help me up. This time, his eyes hold a depth of sincerity that genuinely makes me question reality.
“Hey, man. The fact you’re doing this for folks is super amazing. I know this is your first time working with people face to face, but I saw what you did in that last op. You’ll be great. I promise.”
Wow, okay.
He’s still fucking crazy, but he’s sorta nice about it. I think I can hang with that.
“Thanks, Anders. That actually helps. A lot.”
He pounds my back, nearly knocking me to the ground, then he and Hopper escort me to the fence, letting me go through the slit first.
“Hold up,” Anders says, walking to the gate.
Pulling bolt cutters from his pack, he snips the lock keeping these people in.
“What if they run before we can help them?” I ask, wondering if Charlie is aware of the lock situation.
Anders tilts his head. “Buddy, that’s the one thing we’ll never do. We don’t force innocent people to go with our interventions. If they want to leave, they have every fucking right.”
Huh.
“You’re right, and, uh, I’m glad you’re on our side.”
He slings his arm around my shoulders as we walk toward the building. “You have no idea how glad you should be.”
Hopper giggles, and I wonder how I ended up here. Oh yeah. Right. My boyfriend needed my help. Despite the everything going on, that puts a smile on my face.
Walking into the insta-building, however, silences the three of us. It is a very different experience than watching it from a distance on Charlie’s and Erik’s body cams. The bleakness captured in the video is ten times more intense in real life. The industrial new-building smell, the harsh lights, the lack of color…this is not a good place. No child should be born in a place like this.
And the young women look desperate. Terrorized.
What’s weird is that, save for worried glances, the rest of the women barely react to Erik’s and Charlie’s presence, which leads me to believe they must be used to armed men waltzing through their space. The three of us receive a similar non-greeting, and the women seem to be avoiding our eyes, some of them stepping in front of their babies.
I start in Spanish. “Does everybody here speak Spanish?”
They all freeze, then send me hesitant nods.
“Are you immigration?” one bold young woman asks.
I shake my head and explain that we’re a group that works outside of the law to help people who have been taken in by human traffickers. That they would not have to give up their babies.
“But the only way we get the papers is if we give up our babies.”
I translate that to Charlie, who shakes his head. We work in tandem to explain.
“You will not have to give up your babies if you don’t want to, and we work with various groups who can help you. If you want to go home and need help getting there, we will help you. If you want to stay here legally, we will help you with that as well.”
“How much?” the bold one asks.
“We don’t charge. We just don’t want those people to win.”
“What about my baby?” asks a woman whose sagging belly makes me think she only recently gave birth.
“Was your baby taken?” Charlie asks through me.
Her face crumples and she begins to cry.
I turn to Charlie and Erik, explaining what she’s crying about. An unfamiliar voice comes in over the comms, one of the Wimberley guys. “Get her name. I think we can track her baby.”
“And my son. They’re holding my son until I give them my baby,” another woman says, heavy with child.
Charlie sends her a guilt-stricken look. “We’ll track him down as well.”
Levy’s voice comes over the comms. “We need to rethink moving them from this location. The timing’s too dangerous for a lot of them.”
As much as I’m on board with the notion, anxiety creeps into my chest. How the hell do we keep them here and keep them safe? What if the people Wimberley grabs at the border aren’t the whole crew?
Charlie, his jaw resolute, agrees. Turning to Anders, he asks, “Think we can take over this property tonight? How certain are we that the op in Laredo is taking out all the people associated with this place?”
Anders shrugs, unconcerned. “Pretty certain. And hell, you know Hopper and I will take care of any stragglers,” he says with a confidence that settles my growing nerves. “I can work up a team, and we’ll make sure these folks have the supplies they—”
“Shit,” Bram curses over the line. “They were driving a pair of black trucks, right?”
“Yes,” Charlie confirms, checking his weapons.
“Two black extended cabs crammed full of people just passed us. Thirty seconds out.”
“Incoming intelligence,” says the disembodied voice of Wimberley on the line. “Looks like they were warned about Laredo and turned around. Our team is scrambling back to the plane, but it’ll take an hour to get here.”
Erik’s jaw tightens. “Yeah, well, this is going down right now.”
Everybody begins talking at once, and I hold up my hands, speaking in Spanish, “We need to stay quiet. They don’t know we’re here.”
The women go silent, their eyes filled with fear and distrust.
I turn to Charlie. “I take it we’re trying to keep them out of here, correct?”
“Correct. We’ll try to draw them away from this building. Can you stay here with them?”
“Absolutely.”
“You understand, this is now a very different kind of op, and I have no idea what their plans are. If they overrun us, they’ll come straight for this building, and they’ll try to hurt these women.”
“Not if I can help it,” I say, setting my lips in a thin line.
Charlie bends down, retrieving a gun from his ankle holster. “You know what to do with this?” he asks, putting it in my hands.
“All too well,” I answer roughly, accepting it with dread and certainty.
“It’s like a fucking clown car over here. A dozen people exiting the trucks, heading into the house,” Bram warns. “Ten—no, eleven—men, a woman, and…”—he lets out a breath—“a small child. Something tells me they’re not going to stay in the house once they find the guy they left behind.”
“Agreed,” Anders says. “We have to assume they’re grabbing additional weapons. We need to move now before they get into an unmanageable position.”
Charlie sends me a sharp nod, which I return. He, Erik, Hopper, and Anders jog to the back of the building, filing out in military precision. I pull up my phone as they switch their cams back to night vision, the four of them slipping out through the cut part of the fence.
“Fuck.” Levy’s voice comes back on the line, edged in panic. “Guys, they’re exiting the house. They’re headed right to you.”
As soon as our guys clear the fence, they’re met by a circle of enormous men, all of whom look like they’ve seen the inside of a prison. Fuck.
Anders pulls a gun and a knife—shit. Anders shoots one guy in the head, and then…holy fuck. These cameras pick up every damn detail, even in the dark.
Charlie and Erik are in hand-to-hand combat, and I’d forgotten how deadly they could be. Charlie’s got a worthy opponent, but my money is still on the laid-back warrior. And Erik just—holy shit—broke his guy’s neck.
Meanwhile, Hopper grins as he slices a man’s throat. I initially think he’s missed the jugular because the guy keeps going, but after a moment, blood begins to pour like a curtain down his neck, and he drops in place. Hopper then shoots a second man before the guy with the slit neck even knows he’s dead.
From Anders’ camera, I see the front door opening on the house. It’s Joanna, and she’s leaving with a skinny kid.
“Fuck, guys, I think she’s leaving with that woman’s kid,” I murmur quickly through the comms.
“On it,” Bram says. “Nacho, take over on exterior cams.”
“Got it,” I whisper-shout, thumbing to the live shot.
Jesucristo. Our guys by the fence are outnumbered, and the remaining bad guys are proving a lot more difficult to kill. That Joanna chick shoves the kid in the rear truck and begins to back out. As she reaches the end of the driveway, Bram and Levy pull up, blocking her exit. I let out a relieved breath and then realize what they’ve done.
They’ve put themselves directly in the fight.
Getting out of the truck, they don’t have a second to think before Joanna pulls a gun, shooting wildly. Levy pushes Bram aside and jerks right as the camera catches what I think is blood spray from his side. Bram’s head whips around. Seeing Levy holding his side, Bram pulls his gun. Taking aim, he pulls the trigger as Levy grabs the kid.
That’s…definitely blood spray. From Joanna’s head. She drops to the ground like a broken doll.
The exterior cams aren’t as high res as the body ones, but I can make out Bram checking in with Levy and Levy waving him off. Right then, shadows begin swarming in from behind the house. They don’t make much sense. Until they do.
“Guys, the dogs. She must’ve let the dogs loose,” I say into the comms, my voice far steadier than I feel.
Blocked off from their truck, Bram and Levy boost the kid into the back of Joanna’s truck before climbing in themselves, barely avoiding the snarling jaws of about a dozen German Shepherds. The dogs are jumping on the bumper, determined to get into the bed of the truck but unable to get purchase on the shiny chrome.
Bram curses, pulling out his gun again.
“Sitz! Platz!” he shouts, and Levy joins in, but the dogs aren’t responding to their commands.
Hopper starts racing toward them. “I’ve got the dogs, don’t shoot!”
A huge guy with snipped handcuffs tries to pull him into a fight, but Hopper pulls his knife and…ouch. Another guy dead before he hits the ground, and Hopper resumes his race toward the truck.
The dogs are scrambling, one finding a way into the truck bed. Bram has his gun out, ready to shoot, while Levy hunkers around the kid behind him. Hopper runs up to them while waving his hands, and all the dogs stop, assessing the new threat.
The footage is grainy, but I’m pretty sure Hopper pats his thigh. I switch to his cam. His voice is friendly and playful as he asks the universal question. “Hey! Who’s a good doggy? Huh? Are you a good doggy?”
The dogs abandon the back of the truck and surround Hopper, tails wagging. I don’t know how the hell he turned that around.
Bram turns to his brother and the kid. “Levy, you’re hurt. The kid is the priority. Take him and hide in the house.”
“It’s just a graze. What are you doing?” Levy asks, grunting as he helps the kid down from the truck bed.
“Helping where I can.”
Hopper lies on the ground, getting licked to death by dogs, while Bram crosses the yard. I switch to the exterior cam again when someone small darts out of the shadows. He’s got something big in his hand…a knife, maybe? He’s catching up to Bram awfully fast.
“Bram! Behind you!” I shout into the comms. “Armed. Might be another kid!”
The ladies behind me stir, and Bram spins, his gun pointed down.
“Oh my God,” he chokes. “Ant, you can’t be here!”
“Yes, I can!” he shouts, pushing past Bram straight toward the fight.
Holy. Shit.
My stomach bottoms out, but I refocus on the fight. They managed to kill another guy, and Anders, Charlie, and Erik are down to a single opponent each. Shit, there’s another one.
“Erik—behind you!”
I look on, helpless, as the man takes aim at Erik when Ant slides in behind him, slashing his Achilles. The guy falls like a sack of potatoes. Ant’s less than half the size of this guy, but he leaps onto him, knocking away his gun. Before the guy can regroup, Ant raises his arms above his head and brings the knife down with such violence that the man stills instantly.
Ant shifts, and…shit. The knife is sticking out of the guy’s temple.
More bodies are on the ground, and Anders and Charlie are taking care of the last two guys, but Erik, with a fresh kill on his hands, turns. I can’t see his expression very well from here, but I’m sure it’s something along the lines of shock.
“Holy shit,” he says, quickly closing the distance between him and Ant.
Holy fuck is more like it. The man beneath Ant is dead dead, but Ant is not done. Yanking the knife from the man’s head, he begins stabbing the man’s face and neck.
Charlie appears to disarm his guy, killing him with his own weapon, then turns to the scene in front of him. Taking a chance, I switch from the exterior cams back to his body cam.
Ant looks like a feral beast, and even Anders whistles under his breath. “That’s fucked up.”
Erik is yelling for Ant to stop, but Ant is not listening. Finally, he catches Ant on the upswing, wrenching the knife from his bloody hands.
Stripped of his weapon, Ant forms his hands into sharp fists and begins beating the dead man.
“Ant! He’s dead! Stop…Ant!”
Ant, however, seems to be in a trance, and Erik’s words still aren’t getting through.
Finally, Erik wraps his arms around Ant and pulls him, still twisting and punching, from the man’s body. Even free of the body, Ant continues to fight against him, but Erik only holds him tighter. Everyone else is silent on comms while we listen to the tremor in Erik’s voice as he tries to talk Ant down.
“Ant, you got him,” Erik says, dropping his voice to a soothing tone. “Ant, please. I need you to stop now. Take a breath with me.”
That finally gets Ant’s attention.
Slowly, with a few more kicks and shoves for good measure, Ant gives up the fight and goes limp against Erik’s body.
Erik holds him for a few more moments before whispering in his ear, “I’m trusting you not to try to run or kill me when I let go.”
Ant takes two shuddering breaths before nodding. Erik sets his feet on the ground and gently turns Ant to face him. I switch to Erik’s body cam and…oh fuck. The way Ant looks up at Erik tightens my chest.
Sorrow, love, and rage are at war in his bloody expression.
I’m so enthralled with what’s happening on my screen that I don’t realize there’s a problem inside until one of the women screams.
Dropping the phone, I spin just in time to catch a huge guy cocking back for a vicious uppercut aimed right at me. He’s real-world fast, but I’m prison-yard fast and shift just enough out of the way for it to glance off my jaw.
Had I been just a bit slower, I would have been lights out. Even now, I’m seeing stars. There’s no time for pretty lights, though, and I gather my wits around me. As with all the other overgrown assholes, this one towers over me.
Bram spits out curses over the comms. “I’m coming, baby.”
I’m not shocked that he’s keeping tabs on my body cam.
“Hop, leave the dogs and go with him,” Anders orders.
Knowing I’ve got backup on the way, I decide to poke the bear. “What? Did that Joanna bitch put in an order for roided-out Neanderthals?”
He smiles and lunges at me with a haymaker. He may have gotten the drop on me with that uppercut, but I read this one from a mile away. I lean back, feeling the breeze as his ham hock-sized fist passes right by my face.
In the distance, a door slams open, and I can’t help my self-satisfied grin. This guy’s night—and life—is about to end very soon.
Dodging another poorly executed swing, I stumble back, landing on my ass as Bram walks up behind the man, gun out, his face entirely devoid of expression. Putting the gun to the back of the asshole’s head, Bram pulls the trigger. This time I see the spray of blood in full color.
Hopper looks disappointed though. Surreally, one of the vicious-looking German Shepherds is sitting at attention next to him, head tilted, ears casually flopped to the side. Despite the screaming going on around us, Bram is a beacon of peace. He reaches out his hand, helping me up from the floor.
“You shot him,” I say, pointing out the obvious yet still unable to comprehend what just happened. “You shot two people.”
“Yes, I did. Are you okay?” he asks, cupping my jaw.
I wince at the bruise forming just underneath his fingertips. Bram, seeing the damage, flares his nostrils, takes aim at the dead man, and puts another bullet in his skull.
“Stop shooting near the infants!” one of the nurses screams, and I translate for Bram.
I translate his apologies, and he wraps a protective arm around me, kissing my head.
“No one touches you but me,” he growls.
Before I can, I dunno, ask him to fuck me up against this empty incubator, Charlie runs in with a worried look.
“What’s wrong?” Bram asks.
“It’s Levy.”