Stronger than Sin (Sin Hunters)

by Caridad Piñeiro

  “He was advised not to—”

  “Engage. Yes, he was advised. We have a squad car sitting at the entrance to the road,” the sheriff confirmed.

  Ramon stood and moved to peer out the windshield. Based on the mile marker, they would be at the exit soon.

  “We should be at the scene within a few minutes. Tell your men—”

  “Man. Our cars are only manned by one officer.”

  Ramon moved back to his seat in the van. “Roger. We have two FBI agents joining us at the scene, as well.”

  “Keep me posted, Chief. I need to know what happened to my officer.”

  “Roger.”

  Ramon turned his attention to Special Agent Sanchez. “How close are your people?”

  “Should be arriving at the same time as we are,” Sanchez advised.

  The van shifted to the right and slowed. The man riding shotgun killed the siren. Based on their investigations, the dirt road leading to the warehouse was only five minutes up ahead. The newer satellite photos obtained by Sanchez had confirmed the location of the building, and minutes later, the van pulled up to the left and stopped.

  “Suit up,” Ramon instructed, and the men in the van donned their protective gear and checked their weapons while Ramon and Special Agent Sanchez stepped outside.

  A cruiser sat along the side of the road, an officer leaning against its bumper.

  “Police Chief Gonzalez. Special Agent,” the officer said in greeting and stood, easing from the side of the cruiser.

  “Do you have anything?” Special Agent Sanchez asked as Ramon’s men piled out of the car.

  “I was told not to engage, only…” The officer jerked his hand in the direction of a small home across the highway.

  “Witness came over. Said they had seen another cruiser head down the road and then a black SUV speeding away shortly after. They also think they heard gunshots.”

  After he finished, a loud pop sounded in the cold air, but the officer didn’t react.

  “Like that?” Ramon asked, arching a brow.

  The officer shrugged. “People hunt in the woods nearby at this time of year. It could be hunters.”

  “Except that sounded like a handgun,” Sanchez said and stared down the road.

  “Are you sure?” Ramon asked, placing his hands on his hips and gazing into the woods.

  “Can we take a chance that I’m right?” Sanchez replied and tracked Ramon’s line of sight.

  “No, we can’t,” Ramon advised and then said to the officer, “Can you stay here? We’re waiting for two other FBI agents to join us.”

  “I’ll check with you before sending them in.” The officer shot them a small salute.

  His face grim, Ramon faced Sanchez and then his men.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  They all nodded.

  CHAPTER 36

  Jesse grabbed the bars and pulled himself to his feet.

  If he was going to die, he was going to die like a man.

  Jack’s hand wavered, the tip of the gun bobbing before he whipped the gun down. “You know what. I’m going to save the best for last.”

  He spun around and hurried to the cage farthest away—the young camouflaged woman Liliana and he had been about to examine less than an hour earlier.

  As she had done with their approach, she huddled in a corner and pulled the sheets up to hide her body when Jack came close. But as he raised the gun and took aim, she started screaming.

  The other patients, sensing her agitation, responded, chiming in with an assortment of cries and yelling. Some ran to the walls of their cages to watch. Grabbed hold of the bars and rattled them, slowly increasing the noise level until Jack fired.

  Silence immediately took hold as the young woman in the cage collapsed onto her bed and then rolled to the floor.

  For good measure, Jack strode to the cage, stuck the gun through the bars, and fired into her head, delivering the coup de grâce.

  Jack walked to the next cage and took aim but then seemed to have a moment of conscience. He strode away, back into the center of the room, and paced again, mumbling to himself.

  Jesse heard only part of those mumbled words.

  “Didn’t sign up for this,” Jack seemed to be saying. Jesse hoped that meant Jack was reconsidering his obvious instructions—to eliminate everyone in the lab.

  “You don’t have to do what they say, Jack. You can be your own man,” Jesse called out, and Jack whirled in his direction.

  Pointing the gun at him, Jack strode over, screaming as he did so. “Shut the fuck up, Bradford. I say what I do. Just me.”

  With another abrupt whirl, Jack stalked to another cage.

  Again the noise built, this time to almost deafening levels as the inhabitants of the various cages understood what he planned to do.

  As Jack raised the gun and took aim, the building nearly shook from the volume of the noise.

  But it wasn’t loud enough to silence the unforgiving burst of sound from the gun as Jack fired.

  As before, Jack walked to the cage, jammed his hand between the bars, and discharged a follow-up shot.

  That was enough to quiet the other patients, who either shifted to the farthest corners of their cages or tried to hide beneath their cots.

  It was also enough for Jesse, especially as Jack walked back to his desk and reloaded the weapon.

  He wasn’t going to let Jack shoot him down like a dog, and he wasn’t going to let Jack shoot anyone else, either.

  * * *

  A faint pulse registered beneath her fingers as Liliana pressed them to the officer’s neck.

  She laid him out on the ground, tore open his coat and shirt, then located the bullet wounds.

  One high up on his shoulder, bleeding more profusely than the one in his chest.

  The officer had a small knife on his gun belt. She pulled it out of its sheath and used it to cut off a large piece of his shirt and make a few strips. Wadding a piece against his shoulder, she applied pressure and then bound the wound with the makeshift bandages.

  She was about to treat the chest injury when she heard the noise leaking out of the warehouse.

  She stared at the building, wondering what was going on inside when a loud bang brought silence and made her jump.

  A gunshot? she worried. Anxious about Jesse.

  Hurrying to finish caring for the officer’s injuries, she was about to head back to the warehouse when she spotted Ramon hurrying down the road, flanked by several other officers carrying weapons and wearing bulletproof vests.

  In a half crouch, Ramon rushed to her with another man right next to him. He held up a closed fist to stop his men.

  Hugging her hard, he said, “This is Special Agent Sanchez.”

  She shook the man’s hand and he glanced down at the officer. “How is he?”

  “Alive, but you need to get him to a hospital quickly,” she advised.

  Ramon inclined his head in the direction of the warehouse. “Do you know what we’re facing in there?”

  “Morales shot the officer and left, so there’s just one man. Guy named Jack. About eight to ten patients, but they’re caged. Jesse’s in there,” she said, laying her hand on Ramon’s arm.

  “Don’t worry. We’ll make sure he’s safe,” he said and, with a few hand signals, called over his men.

  “Do you know where Morales went?” the FBI agent asked.

  Liliana shrugged and shook her head. “Whittaker and his men were headed to a second location, but I don’t know if he was going there.”

  Ramon’s men surrounded them, crouching behind the safety of the police cruiser.

  “You two take the back of the building. Jenkins, you provide cover for the special agent and me. We’re going in,” Ramon instructed, motioning to the various locations with his hand.

  “What about me, Chief?” asked the last officer, a young man who barely looked twenty.

  “Call for an ambulance and stay with Dr. Carrera—”


  “I’m going with you. I need to know Jesse is okay,” Liliana said, and as she met Ramon’s gaze, he realized she wasn’t going to back down.

  “Stay with the officer until the ambulance arrives,” Ramon instructed the young-looking officer and then jabbed a finger almost in Liliana’s face.

  “And you stay behind Special Agent Sanchez and me at all times. Get it?”

  “Got it,” she confirmed. When Ramon and the FBI agent hurried toward the warehouse, she followed.

  * * *

  For so long Jesse had struggled to control the anger created in him by whatever Wardwell had decided to put in his body.

  Now he called it forth, feeling the burn in his gut sizzle along his nerve endings. Experiencing the rush of power that came with it, surging through his bones and muscle.

  The weakness in his body disappeared.

  He tightened his grip on the bars of his cage, but not to stand up.

  With his hands on the bars, he pulled on the door while pressing on the frame. Straining until his muscles were nearly rock hard from the force he was exerting.

  The thick steel bars held.

  Jesse redoubled his efforts, driven by the screams of his fellow patients and another pop as Jack executed a third prisoner.

  Putting one foot on the crossbar of the frame, Jesse jerked again. This time the steel gave beneath his hands.

  Satisfaction energized him.

  He yanked and pressed repeatedly, and with a sudden, loud snap, the door flew open.

  He lurched forward with the release of the lock but then righted himself and rushed into the center of the warehouse.

  Jack spun around and his eyes went wide as he realized Jesse was free. But that surprise lasted only a moment.

  Jack raced toward him, lifting his gun as he did so.

  Aiming it at Jesse’s head.

  Jesse had no flight response in his body. He had never run from anything in his life.

  It only made the gene-amplified fight reaction even stronger. More dangerous as every bone and muscle in his body answered his call to battle.

  He leapt at Jack, flying across the floor of the warehouse so quickly that Jack didn’t have time to fire.

  As they hit the ground, the impact jarred the gun loose from Jack’s hand. It skittered a few feet away, but Jack was slimier than he had counted on.

  He somehow escaped Jesse’s grasp and half crawled the few feet, snagged the gun, and rose.

  Jesse likewise came to his feet and opened his arms wide, inviting Jack’s violence.

  “I’m not caged like the others. Are you man enough to do it now?” Jesse taunted.

  If he could distract Jack, keep him occupied long enough, the others would be safe for a little longer.

  Just a little longer, he thought as Jack aimed at him.

  There were no images of his life running through his brain this time.

  Only one thought: Survive.

  He had too much to live for now.

  He had Liliana.

  As Jack pulled the trigger, Jesse dodged to his right, but the bullet smashed into his side.

  The impact stole the breath from his body, driving him to one knee.

  Jesse covered his side with his hand, the pain intense.

  “Son of a bitch,” Jack said and took a step closer, gun still held high, only this time Jesse’s head was his target.

  Jesse braced for the kill shot, certain that at this range Jack would not miss again. Preparing to attack the moment Jack was near enough.

  “Drop the weapon,” someone shouted from the side of the warehouse.

  Jack pivoted in that direction, weapon raised, and fired toward the sound of the voice.

  A duo of gunshots rang out in response.

  Jack fell to the ground beside him, eyes open in death. Crimson blotches visible against the white of the lab jacket.

  Jesse came to his feet gingerly, pain still radiating from his side. As he pulled his hand away, there was minimal blood, but he cradled his arm close, finding that it eased the discomfort.

  Pounding footsteps approached, and he smiled as he realized it was Liliana leading the charge.

  But he held up his hand to stop her as she neared.

  “You’re hurt,” she said, seeing how he was favoring his side.

  “He shot me.” He moved his arm away and looked down, revealing the blood along his ribs.

  Liliana sprang into action, shifting to his side and raising his shirt to expose the damage.

  “We need to get you to the hospital,” she said. There was a break at the lowest end of the exoskeleton layer, and blood leaked from a small graze nearby.

  “I’d rather you treat me at home if it’s not serious,” he replied, tired of hospitals and confinement.

  Liliana examined the wound once again and met his gaze, a guarded smile on her face. “It’s not serious.”

  “Good,” he said and drew her against his good side.

  She willingly welcomed his embrace, hugging him with great care.

  “Jesse Bradford. I saw you play in the Rose Bowl,” the one man said as he tucked his gun into his holster. “I’m Special Agent Rafael Sanchez.”

  “Nice to meet you. I hope you have some news on Whittaker and the rest,” Jesse said, fearful that once the fake FBI agent found out that they had broken their promise, he would exact revenge.

  “Nothing, but I’ve got several agents on this case. Two just arrived from Philly, and we’ll establish protective details on your families,” Sanchez advised.

  “What about them?” Liliana asked, glancing at the patients in the cages.

  Sanchez studied the scene, taking note of the situation. “Looks like we have six live patients. If you don’t mind temporarily assuming their care, I can have them transferred to your hospital. Then we can ID them and notify their families.”

  Liliana answered without hesitation, “Anything I can do to help, but first, I’d like to get Jesse home.”

  “If you don’t need me and my men, I’ll get them home also,” Ramon advised, and Sanchez nodded his assent.

  “I’ve got the other agents here and the local sheriff.”

  “Then we’ll be on our way,” Liliana said, weaving her fingers with Jesse’s and gazing up at him.

  “Let’s go home,” he repeated and smiled, finally feeling free.

  It didn’t take long for her to treat the wound in Jesse’s side when they had returned to his home. After cleaning and bandaging the slight graze from the bullet, she was able to pull away the cracked portion of the exoskeleton as if it was the shell on a hard-boiled egg. That lowest part of the bony casing had yet to fuse with the flesh under it to become permanent. The rib beneath the shell, while bruised from the impact of the bullet, was intact, requiring no further treatment. With the extra bone proteins filtered from Jesse’s blood, no new bone was forming at the site of the injury.

  “It looks good,” she said, smoothing the simple bandage in place.

  “Hurts like a bitch,” he replied and grimaced as he rose from the bed.

  “Let me kiss it and make it better,” Liliana teased, bending to brush a kiss close to the site but then trailing a line of kisses up to the middle of his chest, where she placed another one directly over his heart.

  Jesse groaned and cradled her head to him. “Is it too much to believe that this might be over? That we can live our lives free of fear?”

  “Ramon said everything was under control. That he had news for us,” she reminded him, repeating what her cousin had called to say shortly after dropping them off at Jesse’s home.

  As if on cue, the front doorbell rang. Jesse grabbed a clean T-shirt and pulled it on before they walked down the stairs to answer the door.

  When he yanked it open, Ramon was there beside Bruno. Jesse immediately shifted in front of Liliana to protect her, only Ramon raised his hand to stop him and said, “No need, Jesse.”

  Bruno smiled at him, the easygoing smile of a friend. He pulled a ba
dge from his pocket. “I’m sorry I couldn’t tell you sooner. CIA. I’ve been working deep undercover to catch Whittaker and his men for gunrunning and an assortment of other activities.”

  Liliana stepped from behind Jesse’s protection. “So you were able to catch him? How about Morales and Edwards?”

  “Morales, Howard, and Whittaker are dead. They tried to shoot it out with the team I called in to apprehend them,” Bruno advised as he tucked his badge back into his pocket.

  “What about Edwards?” Jesse questioned.

  “In custody. He’s got a great deal to answer for,” Bruno advised, and neither Jesse nor Liliana could argue. Besides the various dead and altered patients, Santiago had killed a park ranger, she had been kidnapped, and a police officer had been shot.

  Too many bodies for there not to be some kind of punishment, Liliana thought.

  Jesse asked, “So we’re safe? Our families—”

  “Are fine. Whittaker was the head of the snake, and with him gone…”

  Bruno didn’t need to finish.

  “Thank you for that,” Liliana said and offered her hand to Bruno.

  He shook it and then held his hand out to Jesse. “I’m sorry for anything I did.”

  Jesse hesitated, but then he shook Bruno’s hand. “Not sorry about the nose. It’ll add character to your face.”

  Bruno chuckled but then winced and touched the tip of his injured nose. “Still sore,” he advised.

  Ramon grinned. “I guess we can go. I’m sure the two of you would like some privacy.”

  “I’m sure we would,” Jesse said, and, with a final wave at the two men, he closed the door and then leaned on it, facing Liliana.

  “Is there something you can think of that requires privacy?”

  She hunched her shoulders, playing it coy, and sauntered up to him, sexily rolling her hips. When she reached him, she eased her hands beneath the hem of his T-shirt and laid her hands on his bare skin. Rubbing them up and across his midsection, she said, “I can think of one thing.”

  “Really? Just one?” he teased and ran his hand over her hair and down to rest on her shoulder.