Dear Lovely Readers,
After trials and tribulations, I'm back. So very sorry to have been gone so long, but I had things to deal with, one after the other. And I tried writing, honest I did. But nothing I've written, this or anything else, has progressed much in the past few months.
And, for those of you who told me my last chapter was crap and I should give up writing, thank you! I appreciate those words. Reading them, usually sent to my email ANONYMOUSLY, of course, just made me want to keep going. Sure, my last chapter and probably this one have things wrong, but it's my brain. Don't read it if you don't like it, it's that simple.
To the lovely, WONDERFUL readers who begged me to continue, YOU GUYS ARE AMAZING! I love you all very much and I hope I never have trouble like this again, so I don't disappoint you. This one only has another chapter or two till the end, and I'm considering new fairy tales to remake. Any suggestions? <3
Love and kisses,
Almostluver!
***
Joey was terrified.
When they first arrived at the huge, impressive, slightly terrifying old mansion that was Bonnet's home, it had been eerily quiet. He'd been half expecting dozens of men to come pouring through the black gates as they pulled up just short of them and piled out. They kept away from what Kevin explained was the reach of the security cameras, and trekked around for nearly half an hour to a small door built into the heavy, wrought iron fence. Funnily enough, there were no cameras around the gate. To Joey, that just screamed trouble. It was too simple.
The team had murmured among themselves for a moment, and every one of them did a quick, almost nervous, check of their weapons, from the various guns to the array of knives they kept tucked into belts strung around their beefy bodies.
Donovan had even deigned to give Joey another gun and a long, wicked looking hunting knife. 'No chances,' he growled, caressing his own gun. It was a mystery to Joey why Donovan had it in the first place; he couldn't see, he might end up shooting one of his own men. Their enemies knew who he was, and they knew that he was blind, so he couldn't bluff. His men didn't seem too concerned, though; they quickly and silently followed their fearless, determined leader through the grounds.
Something buzzed in Joey's ear, making him jump and spin around with his gun raised, but it was just Michael giving them directions to a tunnel around the side of the house. Kevin smacked Joey upside the head gently and tugged him along, silently reprimanding him for his panic.
The journey into the house was surprisingly, and disturbingly easy. Nobody tried to stop them -- nobody was there to stop them. They were all tense, and cautious. The old tunnel was wet and dark, and Joey slid several times in the mud, and ran into the walls often, but eventually Kevin pushed him along with a huge hand at the back of his neck.
"Sir," Michael's voice filled the silence. "There's a door coming up. After that, two hallways. It would be best to split up the team. Finding Mrs. Alford will be faster that way."
"Thank you, Michael." Donovan rapped out in a quiet, brusque tone. His hand met the damp door and he gently turned the knob. One of the men crept up beside him, gun ready. Donovan pushed it open quietly, easing it gently through the creaks and groans the others could hardly hear, and the other man leapt through the door, prepared to shoot.
A moment later, he signaled for them to move, and they spilled into the empty hallway. It appeared they were in an older, unused, long neglected corridor. Dust billowed under their shuffling feet, and the walls were undecorated and covered with torn, faded paper. There were no lights, and a couple of the men switched on low flashlights. None of the rooms they peeked in contained furniture, or even carpet; the very first few had hard dirt floors and no windows.
"Right, Kevin, you take a team to the right, and I'll go left with the rest." Donovan waited for Kevin to select his men, and started off ahead of his group.
"Come on," Kevin growled at Joey when he hesitated at the back of their group.
Everybody was on high alert. It was much too quiet. Bonnet's men could be anywhere in this huge, strange mansion. Michael had his hands full tracking and directing both teams separately, and they had to wait once or twice for him to finish with the other group and move on to them. The halls were long and twisting, and it all looked the same. They had entered on the bottom floor, most likely the basement, and they slowly made their way up. Nobody approached them, even when they made it to the floors that seemed inhabited.
"Where is everybody?" Joey chanced a whisper, wincing as it echoed hollowly, and Kevin shushed him promptly.
"He's right, you know," One of the others muttered when they stopped in a small alcove on the third floor. "Something's up. Bonnet wouldn't kidnap the boss' wife without a shitload of backup."
"I know," Kevin glanced down the hall in both ways, fingering the massive knife on his well laden belt. He pressed a button on his comm device. "Boss, anything happening?"
"No," Donovan's deep growl filled everyone's ears, and they all subconsciously stood a little straighter. "I don't like it. We're getting to more used areas, now, men. Keep alert, and be careful. There's a chance he's expecting us, and just waiting for us to show. Michael?"
"Sir?" The young man peeped up.
"Work us closer together."
"Will do, sir."
They all, with the exception of their navigator, fell silent again and moved on. There were more rooms now, and they took them in teams of two, darting into each for a few seconds and then rejoining the group. It was a quick, effective way to rule out the rooms.
"Movement, up ahead," Donovan murmured. "I can hear it."
"Us too," Kevin and the others readied their guns. Joey followed suit, nervously. "Mister Joseph, sir, stay directly behind me."
It happened too quickly for any orders to be given. Two men at the front of the group fell immediately as bullets flew toward them from unseen assailants. They fired back, retreating down the hall to one of the rooms they had passed. The gunfire stopped and they barred the door with an armoire
"They got Scotty and Dean, sir." Kevin brushed blood off a small wound where a bullet had just barely grazed his arm.
"Dammit! We're all good, here, but they've got us pinned in a room." Donovan growled over the sound of bullets. Strangely, his voice rose above the noise, though his tone was no louder than it ever was.
Joey pulled his earpiece from his ear, escaping the noise for a few moments. His hands were trembling, and he clenched them together. "What are we going to do?"
One of the men cracked the door open an inch against the cupboard and peeked out. "It's quiet out here." As if on cue, a single bullet struck the heavy wooden door. Everything was silent again when it closed.
Joey started pacing, though the other men were still and waiting for a plan. "What are they doing? Why did they stop?"
"Would you like to go out there and ask them?" The man who'd checked, Anthony, laid his hand on the door like he'd open it. Joey sputtered and stepped up to him.
