PURPLE HEART - Soliders Of Fortune [BOOK TWO]

Chapter TWENTY ONE

Sunday 'Sunny' Santos

…later that afternoon…

The drive from the range had been quiet and tense.. After a fun day of working on my aim and snacking on vending machines delicacies, the mood had quickly soured when I'd made the mistake of trying to talk to him about last night and the unforeseen consequences yet to unfold..

From that moment on he became guarded again.. All those walls and defences clicked back into place and suddenly Max and I were strangers once more..

Now, as I climb from the cabin of the SUV, a salty seabreeze whips my hair about my face as thick grey clouds gather overhead, casting the afternoon light in a miserable tone..

The rhythmic slap of waves crashing against the piers beneath the docks drowns out the rush of the nearby motorway, while seabirds squawk and quarrel by the waters edge..

“What are we doing down here?” I look around the isolated sea of shipping containers and messy discarded commercial fishing equipment, wondering what kind of business Max could possibly have in a place like this..

Everybody in Darkport knows the docks are a dangerous place and now standing here at the centre of it all, I am beginning to understand why.. It's isolated, eerie, like another world away from the city.. The kind of place where nobody would hear you scream..

“You'll see..” He grunts, motioning me to follow with the nod of his head..

We wind through a maze, passing though the colour coded zones that seem to be placed in strategic blocks, optimal for stacking.. We pass through dark blue containers with peeling paint and faded numbers.. We make our way around the green containers, where a pungent herbaceous scent seems to hang in the air.. And finally we stop at the centre of the red containers, marked in white Cyrillic lettering..

Max takes a firm hold of the locking mechanism, cranking it upwards with an impressive display of brute force.. The rusted hinge of the heavy shipping container door creaks as it is pulled open to reveal a pathetic sight..

The stench of sweat and urine offend me as I peer into the darkness, my eyes blinking to adjust.. Inside my shocked gaze finds a listless Javier, slumped against the back wall, a chain fastened tightly around his neck with a padlock that keeps him from moving beyond a few feet..

My horrified whisper might as well be a scream for the decibels of deafening silence.. “Me siento enferma..” (I feel sick)

Upon hearing my voice Javi lifts his head, leering at me through one eye, the other swollen shut.. Evidence of the severe beat down Luka had administered..

“Cariña, qué estás haciendo aquí?” (baby, what are you doing here) Javi spits hatefully, as if his miserable circumstances were my fault.. But I didn't do this.. I didn't put him here.. “Estás cansada de su Polla Rusa ya?” (are you tired of his Russian cock already)