The young man scrambled away from his vehicle, farther into the canyon, as his car exploded. Angel must have fired an RPG at it.
Pedro’s grenade exploded under the lead SUV, sending it into the air.
Rifle fire erupted from the other side of the canyon. Carlos. That seemed to lessen the barrage being aimed at Steel. He partially sat up and fired the M3 at the middle SUV. The blast from the M3 reverberated off the ground and his whole body felt like it had taken a punch.
The round exploded, destroying the SUV, taking a number of Diego’s men with it. Dust filled the air, clouding his view. Men were running for the last SUV and the house.
Above the dust Steel saw Carlos scrambling up the smaller gully to the south on the far side of the canyon. He grabbed the sniper rifle and went to his belly, edging out until he could fire at Diego’s men below. The explosions would bring Christie into the canyon, but he was still pinned down by Diego’s men. He picked off one and looked for a second.
Then he glimpsed Angel aiming the RPG at him again.
CHAPTER 40
Clay’s skin crawled with worry. They had driven highway fifteen south out of Las Vegas, but to reach the others they needed to be going west. He looked at Mario. “You should know that our military gave Steel kill-on-sight permission with these guys.”
“I’m ready.” Mario reached down to the floor by his feet and picked up a silenced Glock.
“There are cars coming from both directions.” But Clay pulled out his SIG, resting it on his thigh. It reminded him of his encounter with Angel, which didn’t help his nerves. Traffic was light on the highway, but it only took one car to see them and call the police.
“Stay away from your door and watch traffic in back. I’ll watch the approaching traffic.”
Clay grabbed the inner side of his seat and leaned toward Mario, looking out the rear window.
Mario sped up closer to the white van but didn’t crowd it.
A car was approaching from behind, and Clay said, “You have to wait.”
They waited for the car to pass them, giving it time to drive a quarter mile ahead of the white van. Clay looked out the rear window. The closest car behind them was barely visible. “Do it!”
“Can’t. Cars approaching.”
Clay glanced out the front window. Three cars in a row. In a minute the approaching cars passed them, and he glanced back. The car behind hadn’t gained on them. “Clear in back,” he said.
Immediately Mario pulled out, accelerating hard. He veered into the side of the van, hitting it hard just behind the driver’s door.
The van teetered.
Mario immediately hit it again, sending it toppling onto its side. The van slid across the shoulder into a six-foot-deep gully where it was mostly out of view. Mario angled to the shoulder and braked hard, speedily backing up so his pickup was half off the shoulder and leaning down into the gully. The truck blocked any view of the rear half of the van from approaching highway traffic.
Clay jumped out, the SIG up. Mario circled around front. The van’s driver door opened.
Clay saw a gun barrel pointing out, followed by the driver. He fired with Mario. A half-dozen shots sent the man collapsing inside. The passenger was trapped.
Hustling to the rear door of the van, Clay waited. Mario carefully approached the driver’s door. They both eyed traffic.
The car that had been behind them was closer. Clay smiled and gave it a thumbs-up, keeping the SIG behind his thigh. The car kept going.
The back door of the van clicked softly. The man he had followed earlier crawled out, a pistol in his hand.
Clay hit him in the back of the head with the butt of his gun and the man went down. “Back here!”
Mario appeared with duct tape. They bound the man’s ankles, hands behind his back, and taped his mouth. The terrorist was light enough to pick up by his ankles and shoulders. They dumped him into the truck behind the front seats.
“Check the van for anything.” Mario headed to the front of the vehicle.
Clay searched the back. It was clean. Hustling to the pickup, he got in, eyeing traffic and their prisoner.
Mario soon returned to the driver’s seat. “Clean. Nothing.”
“Same.”
Waiting a moment for three oncoming cars to pass them, Mario wheeled the truck in a U-turn and headed north, gunning the engine. The whole episode had taken minutes.
Clay was relieved no cars had stopped at the van or were following them. He finally relaxed his shoulders. Clay, you have survived another day. Dale’s image was in his mind and he swallowed. “Knocking over that van took skill. What did you do for the military in your country?”
“Counter-terrorism. You?”
Clay glanced at him. “Marines. Army sharpshooter before that.”
“My father is an excellent shot too.”
Holding back a harsh comment, Clay asked, “What do you do when you’re not kidnapping people?”
“I’m an engineer. My dream is to design and build a big bridge.”
“Huh. How did you get off work?”
Mario hesitated. “Vacation time.”
Clay thought of Dale and had to hold back another angry comment.
“What do you do, Clay?”
“I teach high school math and run a small beef ranch. Wife and two kids.”
Mario nodded. “I hope to have such a family someday.”
Clay thought of his siblings and worry replaced his anger. “On to the real show.”
Mario’s voice was a whisper. “Isabella and Harry.”
CHAPTER 41
A quarter mile from the canyon entrance, Christie heard the first explosion. It had come from up above, not below. Worried that Steel had been ambushed, she gunned the car.
“Jack!” she yelled into her mike.
Panicked when he didn’t answer, her nerves were rattled further when two more explosions occurred. As she entered the canyon she saw Pedro’s car on its side in the hazy distance.
Men were running for the house and the last SUV. Smoke and fire came from the other two SUV wrecks and dust hung in the air.
Christie focused on Angel, visible to her left. Six feet, one-eighty, mid-forties. A charming smile. Psycho.
Angel stood in front of his white sedan, aiming an RPG at the north canyon slope. Jack. Furious, not knowing if Steel was alive or dead, she spun the wheel, aiming for the assassin.
Angel saw her and swung the RPG toward her windshield. She ducked and floored the accelerator.
Dropping the weapon, Angel flung himself off the ground and onto the front hood of his car. Christie just missed him but clipped his front bumper. Braking hard, she watched him roll across his car as she skidded past.
She had purposefully avoided hitting his car head on. Harry and Isabella were probably still in the trunk. Her car stopped just past Angel’s.
Ducking as she opened her passenger door, she scrambled out and hustled to the front end of the car, using it for cover. Glancing toward the SUVs, she saw one man in the smoke carrying a machine gun. She fired a burst from the Rattler. His body crumpled to the ground. She peered over the hood of her car.
Angel crouched near the trunk of his car, firing south with two Glocks in his hands. Fifty yards away Carlos was crouching amid large boulders.
Christie stood and fired the Rattler across the top of the Chevy. Angel had already ducked, holding one gun just high enough to fire at her. It was either crouch or take a bullet. She went low.
The man was so smooth and practiced in his movements that he reminded her of Steel. A needle of anxiety distracted her. Steel hadn’t answered her call. Then she was firing at Angel again.
***
Harry heard the explosions outside and prepared himself. Either Jack and Christie or Isabella’s family were making a rescue at
tempt. Maybe all of them. From inside the trunk it sounded like a war. Perhaps the military had found the cartel killers.
He touched Isabella’s arm. “Ready, Isabella?”
“Sí, Harry.” She sounded sad.
“What?”
Her voice was barely a whisper. “I don’t want to die.”
“We’re not going to die.” A sense of protectiveness for her rose in his chest. He wanted to pound the killer into the ground. Unlikely he would get the chance.
She spoke softly. “I wish we had met under different circumstances.”
“Maybe it’s for the best we met this way.”
Her hand found his. “You like getting stabbed, drugged, and shot?”
He dredged up optimism. “We might never have met otherwise, Isabella. I think it was meant to be. Which means we’re going to survive this.”
“Thank you for being so positive.”
He squeezed her hand. “De nada.”
The trunk banged open. The gunshots outside were much louder. Harry squinted at the bright sunlight outlining the cartel killer. The man held two Glocks, was still smiling, and crouched while firing in two different directions.
The word maniac occurred to Harry.
The man didn’t look at them as he spoke. “Get out now or I will shoot you both where you lay. Fast!”
Isabella rolled over inside the trunk and climbed out. With his left arm, the man grabbed her around her waist, pinning her arms to her side while still firing his left Glock. He spoke calmly. “Now, Harry, or I’m going to kill you.”
Groaning, Harry slid forward in the trunk. His shoulder and side ached fiercely from being in one position for so long. He clumsily climbed out, hunching over due to the pain and stiffness of his wounds and cramped limbs.
The killer pushed him in the back toward burning vehicles and a house beyond them. Stumbling forward, Harry waited for the killer to push him again. In two steps he did. Whirling, Harry lunged at the man.
Harry felt slow and clumsy with his injuries, and the man seemed incredibly fast. An elbow to his neck stunned him. Falling heavily to his knees, Harry waited for a bullet.
Instead he saw Isabella swinging her knife at the man. The killer seemed to move effortlessly out of the way of her blade, backhanding her across the face. She cried out and fell to the dirt.
Enraged over seeing her hurt, Harry lunged at the man’s legs—and received a knee in the jaw for his efforts. He slumped to the ground. Isabella’s head rested on the soil not far from him, her eyes locked on his. Strangely, as he stared into her eyes, he thought it was a good way to die. The Stockholm Syndrome has claimed you for good.
***
Christie remained behind the car, her Rattler fixed on Angel. He was using Isabella and Harry as shields so there was little she could do except duck down when he fired at her. Popping up again, she saw Harry charge Angel, then Isabella stab at him. Both were beaten down by their kidnapper without any effort.
The Rattler barked in her hands as she fired high. She was unwilling to risk a low shot that might hit Harry or Isabella. Angel ducked out of sight again. Panic. Maybe he was killing Harry and Isabella.
“Harry!” She heard rifle shots to the southeast. Carlos was coming up fast.
Machine gun fire from the SUVs made her duck down again. She waited a moment, then peered over the hood again.
Angel ran away from the Chevy—crouching low to be out of Carlos’ sight. While running toward the last intact SUV, he fired both guns, forcing her to duck down. His agility, speed, and accuracy again surprised her. She had to get to Harry. What if he was bleeding out?
***
When Christie’s car had entered the canyon, Steel risked sliding down the hill on his butt. He dug his heels in when he reached rocks big enough for cover. From there he took shots at Diego’s men. They were on the run. He continued working his way down. It was slow going because dust and flames made it difficult to scan the battlefield.
The incline became more gradual so he knelt and used the scope.
Diego had disappeared. He spotted Angel firing at Christie while running for the rear SUV. He took a quick shot. Missed. The killer was fluid, very fast, and seemed aware of everyone’s position. Steel lost sight of him in the smoke and dust.
Running hard for the burning lead SUV, he used it for cover as he fired at several of Diego’s men crouched in front of the house. He knocked one down, but needed to duck shots coming from a side window of the house.
Swinging south, he glimpsed two motionless bodies on the ground near Angel’s car. He swallowed hard.
***
Christie stood and fired through smoke and fire in the direction of the third SUV. One of her rear tires was flat so she wouldn’t be able to chase the vehicle.
The SUV backed out in a roar, turning fast and skidding. The driver, hidden by the tinted glass, gunned the engine and the vehicle threw dirt as it headed for the canyon exit. Diego and Angel were making a run for it. Panic and disappointment filled her in equal measure.
Guns stuck out of the SUV passenger windows, sending bullets into the rear window of her car. Diving to the ground, she glimpsed Carlos kneeling near the trunk of Angel’s car. He was firing at the escaping SUV and put bullet holes in the rear window. The SUV kept going.
Thoughts of Harry dying before she could reach him forced her to stand. She fired the Rattler in arcs at anyone beyond the burning SUVs in front of the house.
Running to Harry then, she reached him at the same time Carlos did. They both dropped to their knees, continuing to fire toward the house through the smoke and fire.
Christie panicked. Isabella was lying on her side, cradling Harry’s head in her arms, whispering his name. Harry’s eyes were closed and blood covered his tattered shirt. His shoulder was wrapped up, the bandage matching the color of Isabella’s shredded blouse.
“Mija.” Tears on his face, Carlos rested a hand on Isabella’s shoulder.
“Papá.” Isabella was sobbing. “Juan…”
“I know,” he said softly. He stood, calling out loudly, “Pedro!”
A faint “Sí” came from the direction of Pedro’s burning car.
Christie put fingers to Harry’s neck and found a pulse. Something snapped inside her. Teary-eyed, she put another magazine in the Rattler, rose, and strode for the house, firing nonstop. What gave her courage was that Carlos was beside her, stride for stride, firing a Glock.
CHAPTER 42
Steel sighted on the side window of the house. As soon as the shooter appeared again he fired. The shooter disappeared inside. Slowly he approached the house. The front door was open, the bodies of half of Diego’s men scattered in front of it. By the time he reached the porch, Carlos stood on the far side of the door.
Christie knelt below the front steps, aiming into the house through the open front door. Steel’s gut wrenched when he saw tears in her eyes. Harry and Isabella had to be dead. Fury burned inside him, but he maintained calm. They might have blown it and allowed Diego and Angel to escape.
Yet he was sure Angel had planned another trick. If he had the M3 he would fire a round into the house and burn it down, but the extra rounds were on top of the ridge. He didn’t have time to get them.
“Be careful of booby traps,” he whispered. He went in first to the right, Carlos going left. Christie entered last, moving left and center.
It was obvious no one spent time in the house. The main room was empty of furniture and the walls bare. The unfinished wood floor had stains on it. A place for Diego to torture and kill his enemies. A few wood chairs were placed by the walls. A dead man lay on his back near the side window.
Two hallways led away from the main room, one far left, the other far right. Carlos went left, Steel right—Christie followed him.
Hurriedly they searched the rest of the house. Nothi
ng. And no basement.
Steel pounded floors, listening for a hollow sound to indicate a hidden tunnel. Carlos searched the other side.
They returned to the living room.
Steel didn’t want to ask, but he had to know. He faced Christie. “Harry and Isabella?”
“Alive,” she said, her face a little brighter. “Sorry, I should have said something.”
“That’s good to hear.” He heaved a deep breath, but it made no sense to him either.
“Diego and Angel escaped.” Carlos sounded disgusted. “We failed.”
Steel thought about it. “Did either of you see Angel or Diego get into the rear SUV or enter the house?”
Christie and Carlos exchanged glances.
“Come on.” He hustled out the front door, pointing Carlos to the west corner.
Steel strode to the east corner of the house, which had been closest to the rear SUV. Glancing around it, he saw two of Diego’s men lying on the ground, bullets in their backs. Christie followed him past the bodies, her Rattler aimed at the rear corner of the house.
When they reached it, Carlos was already in back of the house, digging with his boot at something on the ground. An iron ring appeared, but Carlos didn’t pull on it. Instead he took off his belt, and then gestured to Steel to do the same.
Taking both their belts, Carlos fastened them together, and then looped one end around the iron ring. Sitting on the ground, his boots facing the ring, he motioned them to get back.
Steel retreated to the corner of the house with Christie. Carlos leaned back on the taut belts, his weight pulling up a manhole cover until it was vertical.
No explosion.
Steel strode forward and aimed his Glock down the shaft. Rungs led down a vertical cement shaft and at the bottom a steel door faced south. Bitter disappointment filled him that Diego and Angel had escaped. The Alvarez vendetta wasn’t over.
Christie’s and Carlos’ drawn faces mirrored his sense of failure.
A phone rang. Steel looked more carefully. It was attached beneath the bottom rung of the ladder.
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