by JT Sawyer
He repositioned the hat on his head then cracked a knuckle, his jaw clenching.
“Thought not—maybe you haven’t changed as much as you think, Mitch Kearns.”
He felt the sting of her honesty but also welcomed the openness of a long-lost friend. When his parents were alive, they’d always stop over at the Jacobs’ place on Sundays for a picnic and to let him and Nora play together. When Mitch came to live permanently at his uncle’s ranch, it was Nora who comforted him and made him laugh though his heart was shattered from his loss. It just seemed like a natural evolution in their relationship when they started dating in the eleventh grade. After that they were inseparable as much as ranching work permitted. He even remembered hearing half-hearted whispers amongst both families about a potential marriage someday.
But the rage inside him from his loss could never be quenched. He found the military an ideal outlet for his unbridled energy and the skills acquired from years of working with his hands on the land. Looking back over the last decade and a half, Mitch knew he couldn’t have stayed at his uncle’s. Living in a narrow canyon only exacerbated the claustrophobia in his soul. And as much as he cared for Nora, his restlessness was what ultimately caused him to break up with her and flee the isolation of this remote region.
He glanced over at her as he hoisted up his daypack. “You still got that hat I bought you?”
“Pff—hell no. Burned that in the backyard once you left for the service.”
He ground his teeth, trying to obscure a wince, then moved back into the main artery of the canyon.
Chapter 24
With the sound of automatic weapons fire resounding off the valley walls outside, Dev realized her rifle was leaning against a chair on the front porch where she’d left it before hastily ducking inside the Jacobs’ house.
She looked over at Tony, who was squatting behind an overturned table, his AR extended outward.
“Cover me for a minute while I grab my rifle,” she shouted above the barrage of gunfire shattering the fireplace mantle behind them. He nodded, then shot through the front window at a man approaching from the west. Dev bolted forward in a low squat, pausing at the door then lunging for the upright weapon on the porch. She spun back around and dove back through the entrance. Dev heard the glass from the door shatter and covered her face to avoid the splinters, then she rushed forward in a squat to the table but saw that Tony was gone. She racked the slide on her rifle and fired several rounds out the jagged opening in the windows, then scanned the living room for any blood, thinking perhaps the DEA agent was wounded and had crawled off.
She heard the sound of footsteps on the floor above her while she fired another volley of bullets. “Tony, is that you?”
There was a long pause followed by a loud crashing sound in the upstairs bedroom. “Yeah, just getting up to the high ground. I can see another guy moving in from the west.” She heard more commotion and something heavy thump on the floorboards.
Dev refocused her attention on the front yard. Settling her rifle sights on the chest of the man zig-zagging towards the porch, she fired two rounds into him and watched him fall into a cattle trough. She leaned to her right and saw Walt Jacobs emerge from the back room with a Remington shotgun. He limped up to the table and knelt on one leg beside her. There was an absence of gunfire from above her and she figured Tony was reloading.
“Devorah, ain’t it?”
“That’s right.”
“Appreciate the help—looks like them fellas who took my Steven are back. The hell’s that boy gotten himself into? I always told him to stay put here and follow in the family business.” He glanced at the dead man splayed on the ground outside. “You look like you’re no stranger to pulling a trigger.”
“Yeah, but I’ve only got this one magazine. How much buckshot you got?”
He patted the bulge in his shirt pocket. “Five shells here and seven more in the gun. But I got plenty upstairs.”
“Why don’t you shout out to the agent up there so he can get it?”
“That fella—I just saw him jump off the porch on the second floor.” He pointed to the back door. “Looked like he was making a run for the barn—he had some kind of computer device in his hand.”
She fired off another volley of rounds towards the front yard, where two men were hiding behind a bulldozer and returning fire. Dev paused, realizing her bullet count was nearly depleted. “What’s in the barn—I mean, other than horses?”
“Not much, just my truck.” Walt let off a shot, the buckshot grazing the shoulder of one thug while the rest shattered the side window of the driver’s compartment. “Dammit, that’s not even my bulldozer—borrowed it from Doug Kearns.”
Where is Tony going? She gazed out the window again, looking at the lifeless figure of Alex inside. She narrowed her eyes, recalling the nature of the head wound and the blood on Tony’s arm.
“Is there another road out of here?”
“Yeah, a jeep trail that winds out the back, why?”
“That’s probably where Tony’s headed,” she said, pointing to Walt’s green truck, which was speeding away from the barn with the hulking figure of the DEA agent at the wheel. Dev refocused her gaze to the front again and fired at the men by the bulldozer, striking one in the jugular. He toppled back as a stream of arterial blood sprayed onto the side of his partner.
At the clatter of the rear door creaking open, she spun around to shoot at the armed goon rushing inside only to hear the sickening sound of her trigger clicking. As Walt raised up his shotgun, she pushed it away, knowing the buckshot could penetrate the walls of the back room where Amy and her grandma were hiding.
Dev flung a wooden stool at the lanky thug and rushed forward to close the distance. She body-slammed him into the corner then drove a closed fist into his throat. The sound of crunching cartilage caused him to clutch his hands to his buckled trachea. She kneed him in the groin, causing him to fold forward. Dev grabbed his head and wrenched it sideways, his neck making the sound of wet twigs snapping.
Reaching down to grab the man’s AK-47, she felt the sting of a bullet graze the flesh on her left tricep. Wincing, she staggered forward then forced her attention to the rifle in her hands. She did a partial chamber check then ducked to the side as another man rushed inside. She drove the butt end of the wooden stock into his face, hearing the clank of teeth splintering out onto the floor. She slammed her boot into his chest, sending him onto the back porch, then swung the rifle around and fired off two rounds into his sternum.
Dev did a quick scan of the rear grounds then turned and trotted back inside. Seeing the last man sprinting off towards his vehicle, she leaned her body against the front door frame to steady herself. Aiming her rifle sights, she held her breath and fired off a single round, striking the man in the back of the head.
She surveyed the surrounding terrain and buildings for any additional movement then slowly stepped back into the living room. Walt struggled to get up, using the end of the bullet-ridden table as a substitute for his cane. He let out a terse exhale as his head panned around the room, his eyes filling his face at the sight of the dead bodies littering his ranch and house.
“You don’t mess around.” He motioned with his hand to the farthest man, whom she shot in the back.
“Play for keeps—such a man would only return another day to harm you and yours.”
He rubbed his chin and nodded heartily as he walked towards her, his boots crunching over the glass and wood shrapnel littering the floor. Walt removed a cotton bandanna from his shirt pocket and gently placed it over her bleeding arm. “Devorah, my dear, you are welcome at my ranch anytime.”
Chapter 25
Rafael was studying the screen of his GPS unit like a surgeon examining the x-rays of a patient in critical care. He had entered in some coordinates seconds earlier to pinpoint a location four miles north of the border. The flat contour lines indicated the terrain would be easy to negotiate in order to make it to a single st
ructure situated on a small hilltop. The destination was only an hour’s drive on the established dirt roads but he would have to stick to the secondary routes and jeep trails to avoid any militia or border patrol teams doing their nightly rounds.
Rafael glanced around the tiny encampment where his group of eleven men were busy transferring all the stolen dope from the crew they’d hit earlier. Normally, they would spend ten days in the field and then return to a safehouse on the southeastern edge of Phoenix to get their goods to Rafael’s buyer before resupplying for another trip. This time was different though; he stared at a lone mountain peak in the distance, wondering what the night would bring. Rafael stared at the encrypted cellphone on the tailgate of his truck, wondering if it would magically ring again and reveal the melodic voice of Anna Dizon, whom he had spoken with an hour ago. He still wondered if the whole exchange had really occurred but then forcefully tapped his finger on the GPS screen to save the coordinates while letting out a deep sigh. He felt as if a thousand-pound boulder had just been lifted from his back with the news about Mateo’s plans that he’d received from her.
Rafael could almost smell Anna’s perfume as he stared at the blood-orange horizon and thought back to her sweet voice coming through his phone. His grip on the device had nearly cracked the edges as he pictured each word unfurling from her sensuous lips. Rafael wanted to climb through the device and reach out for her. It was as if no time had passed and all the brutal nights of sleeping like an animal in the dirt were forgotten as he recalled his last encounter with her.
Her voice, which seemed initially so honey-sweet, changed into one filled with concern as she began nervously pouring out details of Mateo’s insane scheme and the implications of a move unsanctioned by the cartel. While his foggy brain tried to sort out the information, his breathing ceased when he heard Anna mention that her son was going to be in danger.
“Hijo?” he whispered.
“Si, mi amor,” she replied, explaining that her three-month-old boy was named Reies and had deep brown eyes and curly hair.
He thought back to that passionate night with her, his mind trying to put together the pieces of everything she was telling him.
“He has your eyes, Raf,” he wished he’d heard her say, thinking of the life he could have had with her if they had met before Mateo came into her world. Instead she spoke about how she and her son might not live out the week if Mateo followed through with his desperate undertaking. “Unpredictable, paranoid, abusive,” was how she described her husband, and Rafael’s stomach coiled in knots at each word.
“A woman like you was never meant for life in Agua Prieta, or any place other than in a palace beside the ocean,” he had assured her. “If I’d had the means, I would have seen to it that you lived in one of those seaside homes in Florida that you always dreamed about.” When their conversation had ended, he stared at the phone for a long time, like a thirsty desert explorer gazing with desire at a freshwater spring.
Rafael saw one of his men come up beside him. “Everything is ready here. We can be on our way to Phoenix with the hijacked shipment in under an hour.”
Rafael tore his mind away from the sound of Anna’s voice reverberating through his head. He took a swig of tepid water from a murky bottle resting on the bumper. Then he squinted and glanced over at the western horizon once more.
“That can wait until tomorrow. Camouflage the stolen goods and rigs then gather the men. We only have a few hours of light left and many miles to cover still. There’s another party we need to intercept.” He tucked the GPS unit in his pack then rested his hand on the Beretta pistol on his hip. “And this one will be a very good payoff in more ways than one.”
“Adonde? I thought we were headed north?”
“Some place better, actually—to escort Mateo Dizon to the gates of hell.”
Chapter 26
The sun had just dipped below the canyon, illuminating the walls in a plum-orange hue as Mitch and Nora approached the terminus, a half-mile distant. Mitch paused beside a sheared-off shelf of sandstone and scanned the canyon mouth.
He leaned back towards Nora, who was covering the direction they’d just come from. “One sentry up on the canyon rim, two o’clock.”
She squinted, trying to locate the squatting figure, then nodded. “How we going to get around him?”
“Not going to.” Mitch was already positioning his rifle on a rockpile and adjusting the scope for the two-hundred-yard angular shot. “That guy’s pretty close to the edge and may tumble over so keep your eyes open for any movement. I think he’s the only one but we’ll find out soon enough.”
Nora swallowed, her mouth suddenly becoming dry as she thought of the dead man from the shootout back by the road. “You sure that’s necessary? Can’t we just bypass him somehow?”
“I’m sure. We can’t risk having him tip off the others, plus we’d only be in his crosshairs once we enter the valley.”
She watched Mitch’s breathing steady then cease, his finger sliding onto the trigger. A second later, a short snap emitted from the end of the suppressed rifle and a piece of empty brass popped out onto the ground. She saw the man on the cliff flop to his side as his head jerked back from the damage to his skull. The limp figure tumbled over the cliff, his flopping appendages bouncing off the jagged sides until it impacted a sandy knoll at the bottom.
Nora felt her ribs constrict and her stomach churn from the adrenaline pulsing through her veins. She looked at Mitch, who was busy scanning the ridgeline. She studied the hard contours of his face then glanced up at his eyes, which seemed more aloof than before. How can he not be affected by this—or maybe he is? I just can’t read him anymore.
She felt a pang of loss for not only the sharp ending of another person’s life but for the pain of knowing that Mitch’s years at war must have altered the sweetness of the young man she once knew. She had always held out hope that he would return from the army after a few years away and resume his old life at his uncle’s ranch. Her love for him had never waned back then despite her attempts to convince herself she could never forgive him for leaving. As the years passed, the memories of her high school sweetheart were glazed over by family commitments and the struggles of keeping her own ranch afloat. There was little time for anything else, especially dating the few eligible cowboys in their small county. Eventually, she met her husband Ray, who was hired on as a trail boss one summer, and the memory of her younger days became further submerged. It wasn’t until Mitch showed up on their doorstep this morning that she felt herself being dragged under again by a wave of dormant emotions.
Now here he was, thrusting her back into the reality of what could have been if he’d stayed. Nora knew deep down that the splendor of their youth had passed but she was torn between the comforting memories of the starry-eyed boy she knew and the seemingly indifferent killer beside her. Mitch Kearns—is it really you?
“How’s it look behind us?” he said.
She cleared her throat as she peered down canyon. “All good here.”
“Alright, it looks like we’ve got a five-minute trot ’til we hit the valley. We’ll make a brief stop once we get to that opening to scan the terrain ahead.”
Nora didn’t respond, her hands gripping her rifle tightly.
“You OK—ready to go?”
“Yeah, I will be.”
He slid his weapon back off the rock, keeping his vision focused downrange.
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for helping my brother, Mitch—for helping me.”
He let out a half-smile, his face softening as he turned to look at her. “I’d say you can count on me, but then I’d be opening myself up to endless commentary.”
Nora saw a comforting look return to Mitch’s eyes as a swirl of nostalgia flooded over her soul. She felt her shoulders curl forward and a soft breath ease out from her lips.
“I’m ready now.”
Chapter 27
Mateo glanced at his watch then out at
the fading sun as it dipped below the horizon. From his vantage point atop the back of his pickup truck, he could see the weather station building four miles distant. He needed the daylight to diminish further before he and his team of men could move across the border. He knew his ruse of having Felix apprehended by the border patrol thirty miles west had concluded and would render this region safe from prying eyes for a few hours but he still adhered to the smuggler’s rule of crossing at sundown. This time provided enough ambient orange light to see short distances but ruled out the use of night-vision capabilities by Rafael’s men.
“A few more minutos.” He looked at the drivers in the two trucks behind him then waved with an outstretched hand towards the valley ahead.
“Split off away from me and take up vantage points around the facility. Once we have the device activated, we will have the intel on Rafael’s encampments and then sweep down upon them with all of our other teams in Arizona.”
A stout man in a green tank top leaned out the driver’s window of his truck. “Jefe, what of Rafael—you want him alive or dead?”
“Alive, ideally, but I am not picky at this point—just bring me his head if you have to put a round through that fucker.” He removed the vibrating cellphone from his shirt pocket and peered at the screen. “Excelente—the component we need is on its way.” Mateo yelled back to the other trucks, “One of my contacts, my old friend Tony Salazar, is coming in on foot from el Norte. He’ll be wearing an Arizona Diamondbacks baseball hat. Keep that swath of desert open and make damn sure you confirm any targets before shooting at anyone. One of my sentries who was up on the north rim of the canyon is not answering so Rafael’s guys or maybe even those militia bastards may have gotten to him.”
Mateo hoped Tony would have the goods or this whole trip would be the end of his reign as police chief, possibly even the end of his life. He’d have nothing to show for his considerable efforts except a kidnapped government employee that he’d have to kill. However, Mateo was already thinking two moves ahead and figured he would drag Tony down into this if the plan failed or if Tony failed to produce the hard drive. Mateo took a deep breath and rubbed his whiskered chin as he thought back to the troubling information about the man that he’d recently uncovered. Tony might just prove useful as the fall guy if my suspicion about his loyalty is confirmed.