Second Chance - Ryan Lock #8

by Sean Black

  He walked up the front steps of the house and onto the porch. Point opened the door. He went to embrace the man. Padre blew him off, shoving a hand into his chest.

  “You ready to do this?” Padre asked him.

  “Yeah. Y’know they’ve hit another of our places?”

  Padre stared at him. “Not our places. Your place. Let’s be clear on that.”

  “Sure, of course,” said Point, wrong-footed.

  “Good,” said Padre, pushing past him into the house. “Now where’s the Mamacita?”

  59

  Ty’s hands clamped around the steering wheel, the muscles in his arms taut. Thick black smoke belched from the tail pipe. Once distant, the sirens grew louder with every passing moment.

  “Here’s good,” said Lock.

  “You sure?”

  “Nowhere’s good, but a quarter-mile more and they’ll be on top of us.”

  “Okay, brother. Guess it’s time to de-bus.”

  Ty eased his foot off the gas and guided the van into the trees.

  A dense canopy of branches enfolded the van as it rolled to a halt, brake lights flashing red. The door opened.

  Lock clambered out, pulling Chance with him. She stumbled over a root as she stepped away from the van. Lock grabbed her arm and steadied her.

  “Can’t you take the cuffs off me?” she pleaded. “Before I break my neck.”

  “Sure,” said Lock. “I’ll get right on that.”

  Ty leaned out of the driver’s window. “You’d better get gone,” he said to Lock.

  From the far distance came the sound of sirens. Louder still. Their pursuers getting closer with every second that passed.

  “You too,” said Lock.

  Ty threw the van back into Drive, the wheels spinning as he circled around a tree, and headed back toward the fire road. Lock didn’t wait to watch him leave. It was a situation that left no time for goodbyes.

  Lock drew his SIG and turned toward where Chance was standing a few feet away. He pointed the muzzle at her. His finger fell to the trigger. The color drained from her face. She closed her eyes and murmured what sounded to Lock like a prayer.

  “What the . . .?”

  Lock lowered his aim and fired a single shot. The sound echoed through the trees, then fell away.

  The chain securing the ankle restraints broke. She could move her legs freely.

  She opened her eyes, fear turned to relief. She let out a throaty giggle. “Damn. You almost made me pee my pants.”

  Lock didn’t respond. He holstered his gun, grabbed her arm at the elbow and guided her further away from the track. Pushing her ahead of him, he plunged deeper into the thick forest.

  Lock’s hand fell on to Chance’s shoulder. Without warning, he pushed her down into a crouch. Through the trees, they watched as flashing lights swept past.

  The vehicles whipped along the tree line, in hot pursuit of the van. Lock stood. He stared at her for a second, his eyes meeting hers.

  “Three rules. Do what I say. When I say it. Keep your mouth shut.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, boss.” She smirked. “Sorry, did I just break rule three?”

  He chose to ignore her. Getting her to obey the last ground rule was always going to be a reach. He turned back toward the dense woodland and started forward, Chance loping at his side, like a reluctant puppy being leash-trained.

  The front of the pursuing patrol vehicle slammed into the rear bumper of the van. Ty lurched forward, only the seatbelt preventing his chest going into the steering wheel and cracking his ribs.

  Reaching over, he thrust his arm out of the window. He signaled that he was about to stop. The patrol vehicle immediately behind him halted. The parking brake off, the van was still rolling.

  Two hundred yards ahead, the fire road curved around to the right. Or, at least, Ty hoped it did. Either it was a curve or a dead end. The narrowness of the track and the denseness of the trees on either side made it difficult to tell which.

  “I’m coming out. Don’t shoot!" he shouted. He checked the mirror. The driver of the lead pursuit vehicle pushed open his door, his gun drawn. Using his door as cover, he took aim at the driver’s door of the van.

  "Promise you’re not gonna shoot me?" Ty hollered.

  "As long as you do what you’re told when you’re told to do it," said the cop.

  "A lot of black folks have heard that line before," said Ty, moving his other arm out of the window. "See? I don’t have anything in my hands. No reason to shoot me."

  "Just make sure to keep it like that," said the cop.

  Ty watched in the side mirror, as the cop began to move out from behind the protection of his door. His gun punched out ahead, he began to approach the van. Ty’s eyes flicked across to the side mirror on the other side of the van. A US marshal was making a move, working his way down Ty’s blind side. Eyes flicking from one side to the other, Ty counted the men’s steps as they approached.

  Seconds later both men were equidistant between the pursuit vehicle and his van. Ty’s foot moved across to the gas pedal.

  Simultaneously, he pushed it down, at the same time moving his hands back inside the van and taking control of the steering wheel.

  He watched as, behind him, the cop and the US marshal fell into a shooting stance and squeezed off a shot aimed at the van’s rear.

  Hunched over the steering wheel, Ty kept his foot on the gas. He struggled out from under his seatbelt and opened the driver’s door, as the van barreled full tilt toward the turn in the road.

  Ten yards short of the turn, he made his move. Pushing hard against the door to ensure it was fully open, he pulled his feet up from the pedals, pushed his hands against the steering wheel and dove out of the van. His shoulder slammed hard into the ground. His hip seared with pain as it also made contact. He kept rolling, allowing his own momentum to carry him through the gap between two pine trees. Catching a mouthful of dirt, he tumbled a couple more times, landing painfully with his back against a tree.

  Meanwhile, the van sped on. With no one at the wheel, it missed the turn, and slammed, head on, into the trees.

  Ty watched the cop and the marshal as they ran toward the van. He reached up and rubbed at his forehead. His hand came away wet with blood. He swiped off the worst with the back of his sleeve. He felt like he’d gone ten rounds with Tyson, but he didn’t think anything was broken. Nothing major, anyway.

  He levered himself up into a crouch. The cop and the marshal were almost at the van. It wouldn’t take them long to figure out that he wasn’t inside.

  More men were coming up behind them. The narrowness of the track meant no one could move their vehicle beyond the ones that had already been abandoned by the lead pursuers. That, along with the terrain, leveled the playing field.

  Ty moved in a half-crouch quickly behind a broad tree. As soon as he was certain he couldn’t be seen from the track he started to move. A searing pain shot all the way from his right foot up to his hip and into his spine. He reached down, and, with long fingers, rubbed his leg.

  He set out on a diagonal path that would give him the most distance in the shortest space of time. He could already hear voices behind him.

  "He ain’t here.”

  “None of them are.”

  “I told you, I saw him bail.”

  “What about the other two?”

  “All I saw was Johnson.”

  "Great. Then where are the other two?"

  Ty kept moving, his pace increasing as he shook off his body’s shock. Soon, he was covering the forest floor with his trademark long strides. As he moved, the voices faded. But not before he heard one last voice that chilled him.

  “Forget all this drone bullshit. Get the dogs out. They’ll find them."

  60

  Scattered rays of sunlight filtered down through the trees’ canopy, dappling the ground beneath Lock’s feet. Ahead of him, Chance picked her way daintily through a knot of undergrowth that blocked their path. Her br
eathing was heavy and labored.

  “You okay?” he asked her.

  “I’m out of shape, is all. Not enough exercise, and the food in prison sucks.”

  Lock’s heart bled for her, as it did for every murderer who complained about prison food. He decided to keep that thought to himself. He was thinking about Carmen. With a little luck her ordeal would be over soon. That was all that mattered to him. Getting her back. Safe and sound. Everyone else, besides Ty, could go hang.

  His thoughts returned to Chance, stumbling through the undergrowth. "Back there, what you did to those two people? You proud of that?"

  She stopped walking, and turned to face him. "You never did get it, did you?"

  “What am I supposed to get exactly?”

  "You have to choose a side."

  "Then you didn’t get me either,” he corrected her.

  "How’s that?" she asked him.

  "I’m on my side. Always was."

  "You keep telling yourself that, Ryan." She began walking ahead.

  Lock dug a hand into his pocket, feeling for the burner phone the kidnappers had left for him. No calls showed on the screen. He scanned the forest around them, and listened for signs of movement. Save for a couple of squirrels chasing each other along a nearby branch, everything was as it should be. "So why now?” he said.

  "Why what now?"

  "Escaping."

  "Saw my opportunity and took it."

  Lock lengthened his strides so that he was walking next to her. He kept scanning the area around them. “Not buying it. You could have shanked a prisoner at any time."

  Chance pushed away a strand of hair that had fallen across her face. "I could have. So why didn’t I?"

  "That was my question."

  "That monster deserved to die. Couldn’t say the same for anyone else inside."

  "What about your cellie who killed her two kids?"

  "Not even in the same league as that asshole."

  "So, come on, you expect me to believe that Browell walking in was the trigger?"

  "Let’s just say that a lot of things came together, and it was kind of now or never."

  "I’m starting to believe you,” said Lock.

  "Believe whatever you want to believe, just like the rest of them."

  "And roping me into it?"

  "You were just a happy coincidence."

  "What about Carmen? Getting her involved wasn’t a coincidence, and don’t try to persuade me otherwise."

  She stopped walking, and flicked another strand of stray hair from her eyes. "It was her bad luck to be dating you. You’re kind of a jinx when it comes to the ladies, aren’t you, Ryan?"

  Lock had been waiting for a dig about what had happened to Carrie. He was surprised it had taken Chance so long to bring it up. He refused to take the bait.

  But Chance wouldn’t let it go so easily. "Your best friend killing your fiancée."

  "That was an accident."

  "You see, Ryan, that’s what happens when you take on a toad as a partner.”

  Lock grabbed her elbow.

  She laughed. "Touch a nerve, did I?"

  "Just keep walking."

  Chance tilted her head back and laughed. Lock chastised himself for reacting. He should have known better. But, as much as he liked to think otherwise, Carrie’s death still haunted him.

  "Imagine if this one dies too. Then you’re really going to struggle for a date."

  "If Carmen doesn’t make it, you’re not going to be here to worry about my love life. That’s a promise."

  "You know, I love it when you talk killing. Gets me all hot and bothered.”

  Lock tuned her out. Ahead, he could glimpse patches of blue sky through the branches. Walking parallel to Chance, he peered past the trees, his eyes slowly adjusting to the increased light.

  Chance was still bumping her gums about Lock being the literal kiss of death to women he became romantically involved with. He was starting to wish for the buzzing in his ears to make a dramatic return.

  He motioned for Chance to stay where she was, and moved on ahead. Every few steps he threw a glance back over his shoulder to reassure himself that she hadn’t made a break for it.

  A hundred yards later he hit a tree line that fronted onto a paved road. On the other side there was a fence and open meadow. Beyond, the forest resumed in both directions.

  Feeling suddenly exposed, Lock stepped out from the trees, and jumped over a drainage channel. His boots hit the edge of the blacktop. He scanned the road in both directions. He spotted what he was looking for almost immediately. A road sign. He jogged the hundred yards down to the sign, then ran back, all the time aware that at any moment someone driving down the road could blow their cover. Even if it wasn’t a cop, a lone male out in the middle of nowhere while an active manhunt was taking place would likely warrant a call.

  He moved fast back to the trees, hugging the edge of the forest as he went back to Chance. He had taken a risk in leaving her. But she had remained where she was. Now she eyed him carefully as he pulled out the burner phone and powered it up.

  As soon as it switched on, the screen lit up with alerts for more than a dozen missed calls. Each call had no number displayed. Lock moved to the phone’s contact list. One number had been pre-programmed.

  He called it, and waited for someone to answer. It didn’t take long. They were clearly eager to speak with him. That alone told him that the balance of power had tilted in his favor.

  “Why the hell you have the phone turned off?”

  Lock took a breath. “You know they can track cell-phone signals, right?”

  “It’s a burner. No one knows it exists.”

  “I wouldn’t bet money on that.”

  “Okay. Well, you ready to take some directions and get to the RV point?”

  “We’re on foot. You come to us.”

  There was some mumbled discussion in the background. The kidnapper came back on the line. “Okay, where you at?”

  Lock gave a location as best he could, using a description of the surroundings and the details from the road sign. When he finished he asked if the man at the other end had got it all.

  “Yeah. We’ll find you.”

  “Okay, let me speak to Carmen.”

  “We ain’t got time for that now.”

  “Fine,” said Lock. “Then get here as fast as you can. You let Carmen walk into the woods, and I’ll give you Chance.”

  “How do I know you’ll let us have Chance?”

  “Because, unlike you, I’m a man of my word.”

  61

  Struggling for breath, Ty leaped over a tree trunk. On the other side, a steep slope fell down to a stream. Adjusting his feet so that he was side on to the slope, he leaned back and skated toward the stream.

  Behind him, he could hear what he’d guessed was a bloodhound dragging its handler through the thick forest. Every so often he would hear it baying. From the volume, it was getting closer too. Five more minutes and it would be right on top of him. Along with several dozen assorted marshals, Feds and cops.

  The baying came again. Yeah, it was definitely closer.

  Ty looked down at his boots. They were caked with mud.

  He stepped into the stream, and started walking. A few yards down, he almost lost his footing on a particularly slippery moss-covered rock.

  Steadying himself, he kept wading downstream.

  He could hear men shouting close by. He pressed on, his pants legs and boots soaked.

  The bank grew steeper on either side. Ahead he could see a rush of water. The current was growing stronger, pushing against the back of his calves. He put out a hand to steady himself against the bank.

  The dog bayed again. This time it sounded a little more distant. He couldn’t be sure, it might have been wishful thinking on his part, but the animal sounded more frustrated than excited.

  Ty pressed on, struggling to stay on his feet as the stream began to widen. Finally, another fifty yards downstr
eam, he waded over to the opposite bank, and climbed out.

  From mid-thigh down he was soaked. He quickly checked his weapon to make sure it was dry. His legs and one side of his body throbbed with pain.

  Ty struck out again through the woods, keeping a steady pace, as the water dripped down his pants and into his boots. The sound of the dog, and the men with it, fell away until he couldn’t hear them anymore.

  62

  Lock tied off the gag he’d placed around Chance’s mouth. She shook her head violently from side to side. Her eyes and nostrils flared with rage. “Now, that’s the woman I recognize.”

  She settled a little. She lolled her head from side to side, indicating that she wanted to speak. He reached across and pulled the gag from her mouth, careful not to let any of his fingers get within easy biting range.

  “What?”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Exchange protocol. I don’t want you giving away our position to your buddies. Don’t worry, I’m sure they’ll remove it when I hand you over. After I have Carmen.”

  To his surprise, Chance seemed to accept his explanation. “Okay, just don’t make it too tight. I don’t want to throw up.”

  “Can’t make any promises,” Lock told her, pulling the piece of fabric back up.

  He guided her slowly behind a pine tree. They were about fifty yards from the side of the road, far enough away that he would be almost impossible to spot. But close enough that he would be able to watch the kidnappers. Or that was what he hoped. Trading Carmen for Chance would require concealment. And, he hoped, kidnappers that had no interest in sticking around when the deal was done.

  63

  The red and black SUVs turned slowly off the road. They picked a path slowly through the trees until they came to a rise. Brake lights flared as they came to a stop at the top of the rise.