Within hours, the Hell's Angels had stationed guards at the center and at Eva's ranch. Two bikers rotating shifts, heavily armed. Doc contacted the FBI, filed a report about the threat. The agent, Morrison, the same one who'd handled the Maddox case, promised to investigate. Eva reached out to Helen, Frank, and Sarah, warned them about the potential danger.
All three refused to leave. We're not running, Helen said firmly. You didn't run when we needed you. We're not running now. By evening, the ranch had become a fortress.
Guards posted, weapons cleaned and loaded, security cameras installed. It felt like preparing for war. Because in a way, it was. The attack came 2 days later. Not at the ranch, not at the center, at Doc's apartment.
Doc had gone home late, exhausted from a long day of training volunteers. He'd waved off the offer of an escort from the guards. It's 3 blocks. I'll be fine. He wasn't fine.
Eva got the call at 11:00 p.m. Boone's voice tight and urgent. It's Doc. Somebody jumped him outside his apartment. He's alive, but he's hurt.
Ambulance is taking him to Phoenix General. Eva was in the Bronco in 60 seconds, Marcus beside her. They made it to the hospital in 20 minutes, breaking every speed limit. Doc was in the emergency room, conscious but battered. His face was swollen, one eye blackened.
His left arm was in a sling. What happened? Eva demanded, taking his good hand. Three men, waiting outside my building. Doc's voice was thick, slurred from painkillers.
They didn't try to kill me, just sent a message. What message? Doc reached into his pocket with his good hand, pulled out a folded piece of paper. Eva opened it. Simple block letters.
This is your last warning. Close the center. Leave Arizona. Or next time someone dies. Marcus read over her shoulder, his expression darkening.
Did you see their faces? He asked Doc. Masks, all three of them. Professional. Military training, I'd guess from how they moved.
Doc winced. They knew exactly how to hurt me without causing permanent damage. This was calculated. Precise. Eva felt rage building in her chest.
Not the hot, impulsive kind. The cold, focused kind. The kind that led to decisions. This ends now, she said quietly. Eva, Marcus started.
No. Listen to me, Marcus. She looked at both of them. These people think they can intimidate us. Think we'll run scared.
They're wrong. What are you proposing? Doc asked. We go on offense. Stop reacting.
Start hunting. Eva's voice was steel. We find out who's behind this. We expose them. We end this threat permanently.
Marcus studied her face. You're talking about putting ourselves in danger. Again. We're already in danger. At least this way we control the terms.
Doc struggled to sit up. I'm in. Doc, you're injured. I'm pissed off. That's more important.
He looked at Marcus. These bastards put their hands on me. Threatened people I care about. I'm not sitting on the sidelines. Marcus was quiet for a long moment.
Then he nodded. Okay. We fight, but we do it smart. We plan. We prepare.
And we don't take unnecessary risks. Agreed, Eva said. They spent the rest of the night in Doc's hospital room planning their next move. The next morning they started investigating. Boone used his connections in the biker world to ask questions.
Who was moving human cargo? Who had the resources to threaten a well-protected target? Who was angry enough about Maddox's arrest to seek revenge? Doc reached out to his contacts in the veteran community, particularly those who'd served in military intelligence. They had ways of finding information that law enforcement couldn't.
Eva contacted the rescued hostages from 3 months ago, asked if anyone had been approached, threatened, or contacted by strangers. On the third day, they got a break. One of Doc's former army colleagues, a man named Patterson, who now worked in private security, called with information. The name you want is Victor Ashlin, Patterson said. Former special forces, dishonorably discharged in 2008.
Runs a private military contractor company called Sentinel Solutions. On the surface, they provide security services. Underneath, they're a front for trafficking operations across the Southwest. Marcus put the phone on speaker so they could all hear. How does Ashlin connect to Maddox?
Eva asked. Maddox was one of Ashlin's field operators. Ashlin runs the big picture, logistics, finances, protection. Maddox handled the dirty work, kidnapping, transport, disposal. Patterson paused.
When Maddox got arrested, it exposed part of Ashlin's network. Cost him millions. He's been looking for payback. Why target us specifically? Doc asked.
Because you're visible. You're building a center to help victims. That's bad for business. And more importantly, it draws attention to the problem. Media coverage, fundraisers, public awareness, all of that makes trafficking harder.
Patterson's voice was grim. You're not just saving individuals, you're threatening the entire system. Marcus leaned forward. Where can we find Ashlin? That's the problem.
He moves around constantly, uses shell companies, offshore accounts, proxies. But I did some digging. He owns property in Arizona under various LLC names. One in particular, a compound outside Tucson. Former military training facility, heavily secured.
That's where he is? That's my best guess, but Marcus, listen to me. This guy is dangerous. Ex-Delta Force, 20 years in combat zones. He's got resources, manpower, and absolutely no conscience.