Interrupted Hearts
1460 Words
Micah’s body jerked at the voice, she felt pure fear spiking through her spine, heart slamming so hard she could barely breathe. But David didn’t even flinch. His arms stayed locked around her, tight, protective, like he could shield her from bullets. They could have kissed if not for the FBI agents... “FBI! Don’t move! Hands where I can see them!”
David never raised his hands. Slowly, he deliberately turned his face toward the doorway.
The second agent, a tall Black man with a short fade and sharp eyes froze mid-step, gun still up.
“Easy, partner. Lower it.” He spoke low to the first agent, then his voice changed, surprised, almost relieved. “Jesus… David Wick. What the hell happened here? I didn’t know you were back in town.”
Xavier Brooks. David’s old handler from deep-cover ops. One of the few people who knew what he’d really done in Iran.
David’s voice was calm, almost bored. “Xavier. Been a while.”
More agents poured in, tactical vests, rifles up, sweeping the room. One of them, a younger white guy with a buzz cut, stared wide-eyed at the bodies.
“You know this guy?” he asked Xavier.
Xavier didn’t look away from David. “He’s been with us since before you were even recruited, kid. Show some respect.”
David’s eyes flicked to the younger agent, then back to Xavier. “You still running point on Miami?”
“Somebody’s gotta keep the city from burning down.” Xavier stepped over a body, holstering his sidearm. “Looks like you already started the bonfire.”
David finally loosened his hold on Micah just enough but kept one arm around her waist. “They came for her. Thought she knew too much.”
Xavier glanced at Micah, then at the c*****e. “She’s the sister of Scott, right? We heard of the one who took your kid?”
David nodded once.
Xavier exhaled. “We’ve got a mess here. You know the protocol: debrief at the field office. Now.”
David’s jaw tightened. “I’m not done here.”
“You’re done when I say you’re done, Wick. You’re still on the books—technically. And you just painted half a club red. Let’s go.”
Micah tensed against him.
David looked down at her, voice low. “You’re coming with me.”
She nodded, shaky.
They moved out, David never letting go of her completely, Xavier walking beside them, other agents securing the scene.
.
The Miami Field Office was a squat concrete building off the MacArthur Causeway: gray paint, windowless, all business.
Inside the conference room, three familiar faces waited.
Xavier shut the door.
“David,” said Lena Morales, the hacker. She’s twenty-eight, dark ponytail, sharp eyes behind black-rimmed glasses. She stood up fast, almost nervous. “Holy s**t… you’re really back.”
David gave her a small nod. “Lena.”
Next to her, Marcus Hale, a tall, ex-Marine, shaved head guy crossed his arms. “Thought you were still buried in sand somewhere.”
“Thought you were still married,” David replied dryly.
Marcus snorted. “Divorced. Twice now.”
Last was Riley Chen, he looks small, wiry, always looked like he hadn’t slept in days. “You look like hell, Wick.”
“I feel worse,” David said.
Xavier leaned on the table. “Cut the reunion. We’ve got a problem. You just killed twelve men in a nightclub. With no warrant, no backup and not even a clearance.”
David didn’t blink. “They came for her. They were going to kill her. I stopped them.”
Lena’s fingers tapped nervously on her laptop. “We pulled the CCTV. You’re clean. It’s actually self-defense, clear threat. But the brass is gonna want answers.”
Marcus grunted. “Brass always wants answers. What we really want is why Aragua suddenly wants this woman dead.”
Micah sat quietly beside David, arms wrapped around herself.
Xavier looked at her. “You’re Scott’s sister. You know more than you’re saying.”
David cut in. “She’s under my protection. Anything she knows, she tells me first.”
Lena glanced between them, then at her screen. “I’ve already started pulling records. Scott’s been on Aragua’s payroll for four years. Small-time runner, but he’s been skimming. They want him bad. And if they think Micah knows where he is…”
“She doesn’t,” David said.
Lena nodded quickly. “Right. Of course.” She typed faster. “I can cross-reference known Aragua safe houses. If your daughter’s still in Miami, we’ll find her.”
David’s voice was steel. “We will find her.”
Xavier studied him. “You’re not doing this alone anymore, Wick. You’re back on the grid. We do this by the book.”
David’s eyes never left Lena’s screen. “The book didn’t save my wife. The book didn’t keep my daughter safe. I’m not doing it by the book.”
Silence fell.
Lena looked up, voice soft. “We’ll find her, David. I promise.”
Inside her head, Lena’s thoughts raced: *He’s back. He’s really back. If he gets too close… they’ll kill me. But I can’t let him see it. I’ve gotta play the loyal hacker. Play the friend.*
She smiled small and reassuring.
David nodded once.
.
David’s daughter—Miranda, huddled in the corner of a dim room. Her wrists hurt from the rope that had bound them earlier. She was small, curled tight, knees to chest.
She didn’t know how many days it had been.
First Scott, Micah’s brother, had carried her out of the apartment while she was still groggy from the painkillers. He’d whispered “Sorry, kid,” but didn’t sound sorry. He’d put her in the trunk of his car. She’d cried until her throat hurt.
Then Ramirez.
The man with the gold chain and the ugly laugh. He’d looked at her like she was a toy.
She’d spat on his shoes.
“My dad is going to come for me,” she’d said, voice shaking but loud. “He’ll kill you. He’ll kill all of you!”
Ramirez had slapped her twice, hard enough that her ears rang.
Then he’d laughed in a mean, ugly way. “Your dad’s not coming, little girl. Nobody’s coming.”
He’d handed her to Javier Cruz.
Javier had taken her in a black SUV. Promised her candy. She didn’t eat it.
Then Elena Torres.
Elena’s place was behind a huge nightclub bigger than Micah’s nightclub. Lights flashed through the windows. Music shook the walls. Girls, some Miranda’s age, some older, were lined up in a back room. Some looked drugged. Their eyes glassy and bodies limp.
Miranda watched them inject something into one girl’s arm. The girl jerked, then went still.
Miranda started to cry again, but quietly, so no one would hear.
A big man walked in, his shoulders huge, head shaved, gold rings on every finger, he looked at the girls like he was shopping for fruit.
Elena stood beside him.
“I need one for the street team,” he said. “a small and quiet one who is good at hiding things.”
His eyes landed on Miranda.
“I like this one. She’ll do.”
Elena stepped in front of her. “No. She just came in yesterday. I haven’t decided what to do with her yet.”
The man laughed, low laughter but clearly dangerous. “I’m deciding for you, Elena. I’ll pay twice what she’s worth.”
Elena crossed her arms. “The last two I gave you were shot dead on the bridge. News travels.”
“My boys will be careful this time.” He leaned closer. “We’ve found a way to hide it in the skin of children and stitch it closed. She won’t be caught.”
Elena’s face twisted. “Horrible. I can’t hand her over. How many times do you intend cutting their skin every week? My girls will die.”
He smirked. “Since when do you care about your girls?”
Elena glanced at Miranda again—then back at him.
The man dropped a heavy box on the table, in it stacks of cash, hundreds of cash.
“I need this particular girl,” he said, voice hard now. “You don’t want to say no to me.”
Elena leaned back in her chair, eyes on the money, eyes on Miranda.
She was thinking now. Miranda’s heart hammered because she didn’t know what they were talking about. But she knew it was bad. And deep inside her head, she whispered to herself:
*Daddy’s coming to find me. He has to come save me*
- Writer
