“I will if you make me,” Haley said.
“Whatever you say.”
Haley jerked the gun sideways and pulled the trigger.
The drywall next to Josef’s hand exploded in a cloud of dust. He threw himself back, nearly denting the other wall.
“What the—”
“I said, stay down,” Haley growled.
Josef’s eyes widened for a split second, then they narrowed with rage. In truth, she hadn’t intended to get as close to his hand as she had, but she also couldn’t afford to apologize.
Josef slowly lowered himself back to the floor. He started to bring his hands to his chest.
“Where I can see them,” Haley said, motioning with the barrel of the Glock.
“So, what now?”
“I’m getting out of here,” Haley said. “And you’re never going to see me again.”
Josef laughed. “You’re not going to make it three blocks,” he said. “Either kill me or just save us the trouble and put that under your chin and pull the trigger.”
Haley’s hand trembled as he spoke. “Just shut up,” she said. “Give me your phone. Slowly.”
Josef reached down and pulled his phone from his pocket.
“Slide it over here,” she ordered.
He started to set it on the linoleum floor, but then twisted and threw it across the room and into the kitchen. Haley’s jaw dropped as it sailed through the air in slow motion. When it hit the floor, the case split and tiny bits of glass and electronics zipped off in a hundred directions.
“Oops,” Josef said, an evil smile on his face.
“On your knees,” Haley snarled. “Hands on your head. Face the kitchen.”
Josef slowly complied.
“Can’t face me when you do it?”
Instead of responding, Haley pulled her leg back and brought it up between his legs as hard as she could.
Josef fell forward, his hands dropping as he curled into a ball.
Haley felt a rush of satisfaction but didn’t let herself savor it.
She thought about searching him for another phone but decided against it. She tucked the gun into her waistband and stuffed her laptop in her bag before racing for the door.
Haley twisted the deadbolt and yanked the door open. She darted through, trying to pull it shut behind her. Haley heard a gunshot, but the bullet didn’t penetrate the heavy door. Not wanting to wait around to see if the next round would, she took off at a sprint, escaping down the street for the second time that day.
The street was lined with similarly run-down homes separated by narrow alleys. She didn’t waste time picking a direction but ducked between a beat up bungalow and a more industrial concrete building a few houses down from Josef’s.
She leaned against the house, panting and gasping in the sticky evening air.
Shouts came from the street, and Haley slunk down behind a pile of garbage bags. She swallowed hard and fished her laptop out of her bag.
Thankfully, the open network must have been in one of the buildings she hid between because the signal was at full strength. She sent a quick message to Dana and Hector, then, with only a short pause, Bradley.
There was the screech of tires from the street, and Haley froze as she pressed herself as far into the black plastic bags as possible.
One car streaked past too fast for her to be sure, but she caught a glimpse of red and assumed it was Eric’s Frankenstein chop-job.
As the engine faded, she heard another coming up the street. It didn’t have the eardrum shattering roar of Eric’s, but its low and slow rumble was more ominous.
Her laptop beeped, and she closed the lid and clutched it to her chest.
The car stopped at the mouth of the alley, and she heard the doors open and close.
“Of course I got it,” Josef yelled. “I’m a man of my word.”
There was silence for a second before he spoke again.
Haley slipped her hand to the gun in her waistband and eased it out.
“I don’t know what spooked her,” he said. “But we’ll handle it.”
Haley heard him kick a trash can and squeezed her laptop harder. A rat jumped out from the pile of garbage and crawled over her leg but stopped and looked back up at her. She prayed it would just keep going, but it seemed entranced by her.
“Just be there tonight,” Josef continued. “You take care of your business, and I’ll take care of mine.”
He muttered something in Spanish, then kicked the trashcan again.
The noise startled the rat on Haley’s leg. It darted down the alley away from her.
Three gunshots went off right behind Haley’s head.
She flinched with each one, and nearly bit through her tongue on one of them. She tasted blood seeping down her gums and almost gagged.
The rat continued running, and Josef fired again, but the bullet only left a spark on the concrete like the others had.
“‘The deal is off if you can’t find her,’” Josef muttered in a mocking Russian accent. “You’ve got another thing coming, you communist prick.”
He fired one more shot. Another spark and the rat disappeared into another pile of black trash bags.
Haley heard Josef take several heavy breaths, then his footsteps started back down the alley. Seconds later, the car door slammed shut again, and it rumbled forward.
Chapter Forty-Six
“Where are you?” Clyde asked.
Bonnie waved, and a map appeared over the table. A blue pin blinked near the docks.
“Josef said it wasn’t a nice area,” Bonnie said. “I should have paid more attention to where we were going.”
“Are you safe?” Durdan asked.
Bonnie snorted. “I’m sitting in a pile of trash bags, with half of DS-13 searching for me, and the other half gearing up for some kind of deal with the Volkags.”
She threw her elbows on the wood table and buried her head in her hands, trying, and failing, to calm her nerves. The saloon was dark, with only a few other patrons this early in the day.
They sat at a booth in the back, and Bonnie desperately wished that the three fingers of scotch sitting in front of her was more than a prop.
“Well,” Rogue said. “If you can just tell us what kind of trash heap you’re sitting in, we’ll track you by the smell.”
Bonnie threw her head back and laughed, but quickly clamped her hands over her mouth.
“You can’t do that,” she said, though her smile took the bite out of her words. “You’re going to get me killed with those stupid jokes.”
“I seem to remember several occasions when you asked me to shoot you instead of having to listen to more of my jokes.”
“Let’s not get too literal,” Clyde said. “I know Jacob would like to see you again.”
Bonnie’s mirth disappeared.
“How are we going to get out of this?” she asked.
Clyde turned to Durdan.
“Can you get any units to the area?”
The Marine shook his head.
“She wasn’t kidding when she said it’s a rough part of town,” he said. “That whole area is owned by either the Volkags or DS. Even if I were still in organized crime, I’d need more than just a CI in danger to get someone to sign off on sending enough officers in there to give them a deterrent from taking a pot shot from a window or something.”
“Can we go?” Clyde asked. “Take my car.”
“You’d be more of a mark than a cop,” Rogue said. “Expensive cars don’t come out of there after dark.”
“I can’t stay here,” Bonnie said. “Josef will be coming back soon to prep for his meeting with Vlad.”
Durdan held up a hand, and a three-dimensional view of the area appeared over his hand. He tapped a building near the dock.
“This is a known drug den,” he said. “The Volkags and DS leave it alone because it means their customers are close at hand. If you can get there, maybe we can call in an ambulance. Make it look like
someone overdosed.”
“Do you know which way the port is?” Rogue asked.
Bonnie nodded. “I’ve heard a few ship horns, so I think so.”
“Head that way,” Durdan said. “Let us know when you get there.”
“I doubt they’re going to have Wi-Fi and a Keurig,” Clyde snapped. “As soon as she leaves that Wi-Fi network, she’s going to be without a phone or way to get in touch.”
“I’ll do my best,” Bonnie said. “If you’re right, I should be safe once I get inside, so I can hold there for a bit.”
“We’ll give you three hours,” Rogue said. “Take your time and be careful.”
She put a hand on Bonnie’s arm. Bonnie looked up and met her dark-brown eyes. A smile tugged at the corner of her lips.
“But we would appreciate it if you could take a shower before we pick you up.”
Haley stowed her laptop in her bag and slowly stood from the trash heap. Her nose had grown accustomed to the smell, but she savored the fresh evening air.
She kept one hand on the strap of her bag, while the other gripped the pistol in her waistband tightly. She was careful to keep her finger off the trigger, and she had untucked her shirt to cover the weapon, but it made her feel better to have it in her hand.
The streets were sporadically lit by the flickering lampposts, the occasional headlights of a passing car, and a half moon. The combination threw shades of orange and blue light over the houses and street. Stray animals dug through trash cans, and Haley nearly drew her gun when a dog knocked over a metal trash can as she passed between two houses.
Whenever a car drove past, she hid her face with her long hair or tried to duck behind something without looking suspicious. She’d picked up a few stains on her shirt and pants, and while she didn’t want to know what they were, she was grateful they helped her blend in with some of the other late-night wanderers.
The buildings slowly transformed from residential to more industrial, though the level of maintenance stayed about the same. She stuck to back streets, always heading in the direction of the port. And, hopefully, the drug den.
She laughed at the thought. She was on the run, and the safest place for her was full of drug addicts. She made a mental note never to tell Jacob this story.
Another car turned down the street, and Haley pretended to be interested in a dumpster hugging the side of a building. Dropping her bag behind the dumpster, she rose up on her tiptoes and peered into the bin.
She mimed digging through the contents, not wanting to spend more time pawing through refuse, and hoped the car would continue past.
It didn’t.
“Hey,” a Hispanic voice yelled from behind her. “You’re new here.”
Haley grunted but didn’t turn back.
“Answer me, bitch.”
Haley looked over her shoulder, slowly enough to keep most her hair in her face.
The car was a surprisingly well-kept sixties-era Chevy. Light reflected off the hood like it had been recently waxed, but Haley wasn’t sure if the greenish color was the actual paint or just her eyes playing tricks on her as revenge for staring at the LED and tungsten lights during her trek.
The driver was a Hispanic man a bit older than she was. His black hair was shaved at the sides and long and slicked back on top. His arm was covered in a sleeve of tattoos.
“This ain’t your block,” the driver said.
“Nah,” she said.
She turned back to the dumpster.
“If it ain’t yours, why you here?”
“Passin’ through.”
Haley tried to draw out her words, so she sounded drunk. Or high.
“Make—”
He was cut off by a cellphone going off.
“Hola?” he said, picking up the phone.
Haley’s heart started beating faster.
The man said something in Spanish she didn’t catch.
Haley stopped going through the garbage and reached down to grab her bag. Without turning back to look at the car, she started down the street again, staggering and stumbling to continue the drunk act.
“Senorita,” the man yelled. “Hold up.”
She kept going.
The car’s engine revved, and the metal clank of gears shifting bounced against the brick walls on either side.
Haley picked up the pace, abandoning the drunk stagger but still shuffling.
The car backed up, and she shuffled faster.
“Stop.”
She didn’t.
He pulled up, so he was rolling backward next to her, matching her speed.
“You really want to do this?” he said, a dangerous undertone in his voice.
“I’m not doing anything,” Haley slurred.
The sound of a car door opening registered the moment Haley was bashed with metal. She flew through the air and into a brick wall. Her head collided with the rough wall, and her vision went black. Her knees hit the pavement, but she managed to catch herself before she hit her head again.
Blinking several times, her vision slowly returned. A trickle of warm blood dribbled down her forehead. Pebbles and bits of glass cut into her knees, the thin fabric of her jeans providing little protection.
She heard gravel crunching beneath heavy boots behind her, and then a hand grabbed her hair.
The man yanked her head back. Haley cried out as her neck cracked at the sudden movement.
“Might be her,” the man said. He pulled the phone from his ear and brushed her hair from her face. “I’ll send you a picture. Hang on.”
He looked at his phone to thumb through his apps.
Haley did the only thing she could think of. She didn’t have much leverage from her knees, but location, location, location.
As the hand released her hair, her elbow connected with his groin. He fell forward, his phone slipping from his grasp. He was tougher than Josef, though, or her aim hadn’t been as good, because he grabbed her shirt as he went down. She tried to stand, but his sturdy grip held her down.
She clawed at his face, but he protected himself with his other hand. She tried to punch him but couldn’t land a decisive blow.
He didn’t miss his opportunity.
His fist lashed out as she shifted her focus. She managed to twist sideways, so the punch caught her shoulder instead of her nose. It was still strong enough to send her sprawling backward, her shoulder numb.
His grip on her shirt held her halfway to the ground for a fraction of a second.
Then the fabric ripped and she fell to the pavement.
She tried to crawl away, but her back hit the wheel.
The man lunged at her again. He grabbed her leg and started pulling her toward him.
Haley tugged at her shirt, trying to get to the gun. The man saw what she was doing and pulled harder.
Haley’s shirt came free, and her hand tightened around the grip.
And the trigger.
There was a blinding flash, and her ears rang as the report echoed. She felt a burning, stinging near her crotch.
Her hands went to her eyes, and she tried to blink them clear. Her hearing returned to normal before her sight though. There was an odd gurgling and wheezing.
She blinked several more times, and when she finally dropped her hands, she gasped.
The man was face down on the pavement, a pool of blood growing below him. His head was tilted to the side. Blood leaked out his mouth.
Haley yanked her leg out of his grip, and his hand flopped to the ground.
Her eyes were glued to the blood. A small part of her hoped that he’d spring back into the fight.
The sound of Josef’s voice blaring up from the dropped phone broke her gaze.
“Juan,” he yelled. “Juan!”
Her heart dropped. The thug had a name.
Probably a family.
Possibly his own Jacob.
Josef was yelling in Spanish now. She didn’t know how long she had, so she picked herself up, keeping her eye
s glued to the non-bloody parts of the pavement. She winced as her jeans rubbed against the flash burns on her sensitive nether regions but grabbed her bag and started to run down the street.
She got a dozen paces before she looked back.
Juan’s body was hidden in the shadows, but his face was turned toward her.
Eyes open. Watching her.
She shivered and ran faster.
Chapter Forty-Seven
After her run-in with Juan, Haley had moved as quickly as she could through the neighborhood and gotten to a more populated road. If Josef was going to have her gunned down, she wanted as many people around as possible.
But the stampede of souped-up muscle cars bearing a horde of gun-toting thugs never materialized.
She’d slowed her pace to a fast power walk as she continued in the direction she thought the drug house was located, but no one seemed to be chasing her. In fact, the only people that looked at her were the neighborhood residents coming back from dinner. One even stopped her and offered her their to-go box.
Haley blushed and muttered her thanks but kept going.
The few mom and pop shops and restaurants slowly disappeared, and she found herself entirely surrounded by warehouses, which didn’t seem right.
Her feet hurt, and she felt herself crashing from the constant adrenaline spikes from the day. She kept going though. The house couldn’t be far now.
She turned the corner of another warehouse and saw three black vans like the one Vlad and ridden to the farm in, she could only jump behind the last building.
Haley wasn’t sure if she’d taken a wrong turn, or just had the worst luck in the world.
She wanted to back away and run, but a part of her brain said that maybe it wasn’t Vlad. And if not, there was a good chance that her destination was just down the road.
She eased her head around the corner, careful to keep as much of herself hidden as possible.
The three vans had been parked in an overlapping diagonal pattern to block the street and create chokepoints barely wide enough for one person to squeeze through. Two of the three vans stood empty. The sliding doors were open, and army-green weapons crates were stacked on the ground. Most had yellow writing she couldn’t make out, but one box by the van on the left had the red sticker she recognized as explosives.
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