They were on the road for three hours before the sun came up. Drive-through breakfast had been bought and eaten. The minivan had been refueled. Stephanie had searched through radio stations and waited for word from Olesk. Arash drove with stern focus and appeared calm, but she knew the storm raging inside.
Today.
The sun rose and marked the beginning of the day they’d both been working toward. Tension churned deep in her, growing with each mile closer to Los Angeles. The bright morning had no clouds. Shadows stretched from the semis and smaller cars across the highway. She hadn’t spotted any other STR members. There’d been no communication. Olesk was expecting loyalty and precision from his team. She prepared herself to ruin his plans.
With only scant details, she couldn’t fully predict how the operation would play out. But she carried one certainty with her. Nothing Olesk or the Seventh Syndicate could throw at her would change the steady, reassuring heat from her kiss with Arash this morning. They’d traversed rough territory to get there, but it only proved that what they were together was worth fighting for.
So many lives at stake. The safest choice would be to run away. She would never. Arash sped them southwest, to the lost people who needed her help. To the people who needed justice.
Less than an hour away from Los Angeles, a text came through. “Olesk.” She read, “San Pedro.” Then an address she punched into her mapping app.
Arash shook his head. “I don’t know where San Pedro is.”
“Near the port. Near Long Beach. On the far end of the city.” Which explained why he’d given them so much time to get there. “The airfield might not be far from that, but in LA, distance is set in time, not miles. Two blocks can take half an hour.”
Arash pushed the minivan faster, then had to slow as they moved into the traffic of more populated areas. She checked the time and the map; they would be on time. The highway turned into a freeway. Traffic choked the lanes. Aggressive cars bolted into the smallest gaps as they jockeyed for advantage.
She watched the frustration grow in Arash. His posture straightened, and his fists gripped the steering wheel. “With what this minivan can do, we could tear this up. We’d blow away anyone else out here.” But they remained stealthy and moved with the normal flow.
After typing a note on her phone, she tapped him on the arm and held it up to him. Soon.
Arash nodded, face stony. Eyes blazing like a predator.
A cold wind swept across the city to howl a chorus against the body of the minivan. Black road grime swirled at the edges of the freeway, where the lost ladders, torn-off bumpers and shattered tires collected.
She slowed her breath and spun the ring around her finger. Pistol, knife, phone fully charged. She knew who the major players were in the operation, what they were driving and the address of the first destination. After waking before dawn, crossing a desert and a state line, and piercing through a city’s traffic, they were two miles away.
The navigation took them off the freeway and down onto the streets of a partially industrial neighborhood. Warehouses and processing plants passed the windows, then rows of old, single-story houses and an ancient grocery store with a faded sign.
“Two blocks.” Her awareness cranked high, marking every car around them and checking for anything that might seem irregular in the area. “Then left. It’ll be on the right.”
Arash cruised deeper into the neighborhood and slowed at the address. It was an old, abandoned movie theater. Her heart caught in her throat. The victims of the Seventh Syndicate human trafficking were in there, and it was Olesk’s job to move them to the airfield. “We’re on,” she told Arash. If Olesk was listening, it wouldn’t set off any alarms for him. But Arash received her meaning and set his jaw.
She was about to text Vincent the address and information on the location when a message came in from Olesk. “Keep moving. We’re to go four blocks north and circle in a holding pattern.”
As Arash took them past the movie theater, she caught a glimpse of Olesk’s car in an alley a block away. Olesk sat, expressionless behind the wheel, with Ellie next to him in the passenger seat. Once Stephanie and Arash were clear from view, she messaged Vincent the address. He replied quickly: I’ll be there. 20 min? On official business with local officers. They’ve been informed that I have people on the inside.
The two cargo vans driven by Thom and Hector passed Arash and Stephanie, heading toward the movie theater. Her gut clenched thinking about those terrified people who would soon be shackled to those seats. Arash shifted, rolling his shoulders and showing his frustration. He fumed for revenge, and she wondered if he’d be able to control that desire until the right moment.
As soon as Arash pulled up to a curb and idled she showed him the message from Vincent. Arash checked his watch. She knew that twenty minutes would be too long. Arash asked, “You have eyes on David?”
“Haven’t seen him, probably orbiting closer.”
A new message arrived from Olesk. She read it aloud. “Loaded. Head north. Maintain your perimeter. Eyes open. You’re the first line of defense.”
“No address.” Arash pulled onto the street and aimed them north.
“Not until the last minute.” By then it would be too late to inform Vincent and the FBI. She turned in her seat to look behind and spotted the two vans moving slowly along a street. “They’re rolling.” Olesk darted past the vans and disappeared. David’s Chevy lurked farther in the distance.
Arash watched the rearview mirror more than the road ahead. “We can’t let them scatter.” He pulled hard on the wheel and into a tight U-turn. The engine revved and she saw the energy growing in him, too. But could just the two of them end this?
Another sedan moved on pace with the white vans. It was Grant Hemmings’s car. “The Seventh is here.” Her pulse raced knowing that the time had to be now. “Go,” she urged Arash with a whisper.
He didn’t need much encouragement to rocket the minivan forward. Up ahead, the two cargo vans separated, one of them turning up a side street. It wouldn’t be long before they were all too strung out along the roads to contain.
Arash aimed at the remaining van. David lurked two blocks behind it. Stephanie messaged Vincent. Now. He replied: Inbound. It looked like Arash was going to take them right into the nose of the van. At the last second, he skidded to the side. Their modifications to the suspension handled it perfectly, but her heart still thundered.
The van screeched to a stop, blocked by Arash and Stephanie. She saw Thom behind the windshield, hands raised and eyes wide asking what the hell was going on. Arash turned to her. “Take the wheel.” He leaped out of the minivan and hurried toward Thom. She slid into the driver’s seat and strapped in. The fuse was lit. All the secrets were about to explode.
ARASH RAN TOWARD the driver’s side of the white cargo van, pointing vaguely up the street. “They’re coming,” he called to Thom.
Thom rolled the window down. “Who?”
“You didn’t see them?” Arash’s muscles blazed, ready. “Let me drive.”
“Hell, no. That’s not part of the plan.” Thom waved at Stephanie to get out of the way.
“The plan was screwed the second you killed Marcos.” Arash put his hands on the edge of the open driver’s-side window.
Thom shuddered, confused. “Wait. What?” His eyes went wide when Arash reached into the van, grabbed him by his heavy flannel shirt and dragged him out of the window. Arash threw him down to the street. Thom rolled and came up with a knife in his hand. He charged Arash. “I always knew you were a son of a—”
Arash’s knife was already out. He had to move without thinking to survive. He swiped his forearm across Thom’s wrist, redirecting his attack, and buried his own blade in Thom’s ribs. For a moment he held Thom standing, then let him fall to the ground. Sirens pierced the cold air. Thom writhed and Arash leaned over him. “If you live, you’ll rot in jail.”
A motor growled from a block away. David’s Chevy approached. Arash threw the door open on the van and got behind the wheel. Stephanie sped away in the minivan and he peeled off behind her. Small voices wept behind him. His heart froze when he glanced back through the barricade he’d installed and saw the terrified faces of sixteen young boys and girls of different ethnicities who ranged in age from what looked like ten years old up into the teens. “You’re safe now,” he promised with a choked voice. “You’re safe.” But no one was yet.
David rumbled closer in the Chevy. Stephanie tuned hard and away from Arash. As she curled around to cut off David, Arash saw her pointing in the direction of the coming sirens. Her friends were almost there. Before David could catch up to Arash, Stephanie swept past his front bumper, causing him to slam on his brakes. She nimbly doubled back and came at David again. The muscle car churned hard and powered away before she T-boned him.
A block over to the right, Arash spotted three black SUVs with light bars flashing at the tops of their windshields. He angled toward them and honked repeatedly when he was just a few yards away. The SUVs came to a stop in a tactical formation and the doors opened. Arash stepped from the van with his hands raised calling out, “Bolt cutters. There are kids back here.”
One man in an FBI windbreaker stepped forward, lowering his pistol. He was dark complected and spoke with clear authority. “Stand down. He’s with me.” The man waved the others forward. “And get those bolt cutters.” Once the man was close to Arash, he spoke in low tones. “I’m Vincent. Friend of Stephanie’s.”
The other FBI agents threw open the van doors and were confronted by the scared faces of sixteen young boys and girls. Ellie’s voice came over the comm in the van. “What the hell is going on?”
Arash burned to move. “Stephanie’s still out there.”
Vincent held up his keys. “Take mine.”
Arash glanced at the cumbersome tank of an SUV. He knew the mods of the cargo van outpaced it. “This’ll do better. Get me back on the road.”
Vincent joined a female agent carrying a pair of bolt cutters and the two of them rushed to the van. Arash jumped into the driver’s seat as the shackles were being cut from the rings welded to the seats. With a gentle voice Vincent guided the boys and girls out. “This way. You’re safe now with the authorities and I will make sure that nothing happens to you.”
Hector’s voice crackled on the comm. “I have no idea. Thom, check in.” All of the kids were out of the van and Arash stepped on the gas with the side door gaping open. Hector continued. “Thom. Thom?”
Arash picked up the comm and impersonated Thom’s voice as best he could. “What’s your twenty?”
Hector answered, “About ten blocks up from pickup, on the side street parallel to the main drag.”
Standing on the accelerator, Arash ate up the streets. Up and to the right, he saw Stephanie take the minivan in a tight circle while avoiding a charge from David. The car Stephanie had identified as part of the Seventh Syndicate edged on the perimeter, as if uncertain how to get involved.
Arash gritted his teeth and aimed for the rear fender of the Syndicate sedan. It was too late by the time the driver saw him coming. A direct impact had the potential to disable the van, so Arash yanked the wheel to the side and skidded the side of the van into the rear of the sedan. Glass and plastic shattered and rained into the open van. Arash jarred hard in his seat and gripped the steering wheel with all his strength to stay in place. The driver of the sedan wasn’t as strong and struck his head into the side window.
The van was still operational and rolled forward. The side of the sedan was crushed around its rear wheel and could only limp for a foot before halting. As he sped away, Arash caught a glimpse of Stephanie in the minivan speeding toward the sedan. He knew how good a driver she was, but he still tightened with concern seeing her in the middle of the grinding danger. Whatever he was about to do next, he had to do it fast and get to her side.
“Status.” Ellie came over the comm. “Status!”
Hector was the first to respond. “Proceeding on plan. No sign of Thom... There he is.” Arash was a half block away from Hector. He got up alongside and saw Hector still holding the comm mic. “What the hell—” Hector’s voice over the speaker was cut off when Arash pulled in front of him and slammed on the brakes.
Hector tried to reverse, but Arash was faster and swung his van around to pin his vehicle next to a telephone pole. Hector slammed out of the driver’s side, flexing his thick arms. “What are you doing?”
“Same thing I did to Thom.” Arash swung a fist at Hector, but the other man dodged to the side. Hector bull-rushed Arash and crashed into his body, knocking the wind out of him. The two men stumbled into the middle of the street. Arash gathered his breath and separated himself enough to drive a knee into Hector’s ribs. He followed it with a punch to the jaw that sent Hector backward. Arash closed the distance and drove a fist into Hector’s gut.
Hector curled his hands into Arash’s coat and wheezed, “You’re a damn rat.”
“No.” Arash took hold of Hector’s jacket and yanked him close. “I’m a friend of Marcos.”
“Marcos?” Hector’s eyes went wide as the information struck him. He tried to twist from Arash’s grip, but Arash held strong and swung Hector into the street just as David was charging up toward them. Tires screamed and the impact took Hector to the asphalt. David swung wide away from the accident and sped up a separate street.
Arash ran to Hector’s van and climbed behind the wheel. Another sixteen kids. More terrified eyes and barely suppressed sobs. Arash scraped the side of this van against the other as he took it onto the street. “You’ll be okay,” he tried to reassure the kids. To the right, near a long line of warehouses, Stephanie parked next to the Seventh Syndicate man’s broken car. A couple blocks beyond her was one of the FBI SUVs.
And ahead of Arash was Olesk’s car. All hell had broken loose and Arash could finally make him burn.