by J. T. Baier
A wave of anger ran through Megan. Blake had brought them here? He’d sold out his classmates and his teacher? And for what? The favor of a drug cartel who would likely kill him in the end?
Still, Blake said nothing.
“I had hopes for you, boy.” El Leon’s hand snaked up, grabbing Blake by the throat. Blake let out a cry of surprise and pain. El Leon quickly twisted his arm, sending the boy sprawling onto the ground on his back.
Megan gasped and started toward her fallen student, but El Leon held up a hand, and she froze.
“I very much hope that you will reconsider answering my question, Blake. Where is David?”
Blake was breathing heavily, his hand on his bruised throat. He stared up at El Leon, eyes wide with fear. But he did not answer.
El Leon strolled forward a few steps until he stood at Blake’s side. Then he raised his left boot into the air and brought it down hard, stomping on Blake’s left shoulder exactly where the arm bone connected. There was a sharp, loud crack, and Blake screamed in pain.
“I have a policy of only asking the same question a certain number of times.” El Leon’s face was still expressionless. “Hear me when I say, this will be the last time I ask. Where is David Underwood?”
Blake gritted his teeth as he looked up at the big man. He was quivering with pain and rage, but he did not speak.
“Very well.” El Leon raised his boot again, this time positioning it over Blake’s skull.
“Wait!”
The voice came from the back of the room. Megan’s head snapped up, and she saw that it was David who had spoken. He climbed out from under his desk.
“I’m the one you want. I’m David Underwood.”
El Leon set his foot down and regarded David. “Is that so? Please. Approach.”
David stumbled forward on shaky legs. His brow was covered with sweat, and the terror was clear on his face.
“You don’t need him,” Megan said. “You have me. That’s enough.”
El Leon ignored her. He took a step toward David, and the two of them stood face to face. El Leon put both hands on the younger man’s shoulders. “I want you to know that you have my respect. And because you have my respect, I will tell you the truth. You are going to die today, David Underwood, and you will die in a very unpleasant manner. This is no fault of your own. It is a necessary part of our business. Your father betrayed us, and so his son must die. This cannot be changed. It is simply the way of things. I thought you should know.”
Megan knew the moments of her life were ticking away. She had to do something, and fast. “We can work something out if you’d just—”
El Leon once again held up a hand, and she fell silent. “Please. Take a lesson from your student and die with honor.” He nodded to the two men by the door. They quickly marched forward.
The first man grabbed David, gripping him by the upper arm. The second man grabbed Megan’s right arm and pulled her toward the door. He was strong, and there was nothing she could do but go where he dragged her. She took one last look at her student’s shocked faces, and the man pulled her out of the classroom and into the hallway.
43
Riker inched the gun forward, speaking in Spanish to the man inside the wrestling room. “Lower your weapon.”
The man was holding an assault rifle at a forty-five-degree angle to the ground. He’d have to raise it to get a clear shot at Riker, and if he did that, Riker would have time to fire first. He could see that the man was making the same mental calculation and coming to the same conclusion. He crouched down, gently setting his weapon on the hardwood floor next to the wrestling mats.
“Bueno. Now back up slowly.”
The man stood back up, hands raised, and took a step back. His eyes were wide and they were focused on the barrel of Riker’s pistol. Just for the briefest of moments, the man’s eyes flickered to his left, and Riker knew there was another man out of his line of sight.
There wasn’t time to think—Riker just reacted. He knew his sole advantage was that the enemy was unable to see Luke, and he needed to use that. With his left hand, he threw the door open wide, and he charged forward, wrapping his arms around the man in front of him, tackling him to the ground. As long as he was tangled up with this man, the other enemy wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot.
As Riker and the man he was attacking tumbled to the ground, he saw movement out of the corner of his eye. The second man had his weapon trained on Riker, but he didn’t dare take a shot. Just as Riker had hoped, the man stepped around, trying to get a better angle, thus exposing himself to Luke.
Luke didn’t hesitate. He fired three quick rounds into the man’s back. The report of the gunshots echoed loudly in the empty gym, and Riker grimaced. So much for their stealthy attack. Everyone in the school would know they were coming now.
By the time the man Luke had shot hit the ground, Riker had the other man flipped over and face down on the mat.
He shouted at the man in Spanish. “How many of you are there in the school?”
The man made no reply but to futilely struggle, trying to free himself. This guy wasn’t going to break easily; he hardly seemed fazed that his buddy had just been shot in front of him. And every moment that Riker spent questioning the man was another moment Megan was in danger. She’d asked for his help, and he intended to give it to her. He needed to end this fast.
Riker released the man with his right hand, allowing his right arm to go free. Just as Riker had expected, the freed arm shot out, the fingers clutching at the slick mat for leverage. As soon as it did Riker raised his pistol and fired, putting a bullet through the center of the man’s hand.
The man screamed in pain, instinctively pulled the hand back toward his body, but Riker caught the wrist with his own left hand, keeping the man in place with a knee to the back.
He jammed the barrel of his pistol into the bullet wound, and the man cried out again.
“How many are here?” Riker shouted in Spanish.
The only reply was a whimper of pain.
Riker twisted the pistol, grinding the barrel into the wound.
“Ocho!” the man shouted.
Eight. Not great odds, but not impossible either.
“Where?”
The man replied without hesitation this time. “Two at the front door. Two here. Three to take the woman and boy.”
Riker blinked hard, trying to make sense of the man’s words. “What woman and boy?”
“La families.” The families.
That had to mean Megan.
Riker raised his pistol, considering firing a round into the back of the man’s head, but instead snaked an arm around his neck and applied pressure. When the man was unconscious, Riker struggled to his feet.
“We’ve got to move. They’re going after Megan. And a boy.”
Luke grimaced. “That’ll be David. Eric Underwood’s son.”
“I met him. At the wake.”
“It’s my fault. I told the cartel that Eric refused to help us at the funeral. This is payback.”
“You’ll have time to feel bad about that later. We need to move.” Riker made his way toward the door that led to the interior of the high school. He did his best to walk normally, but still, the injured leg dragged, creating a bit of a limp that slowed his progress.
As they passed through the room, he noticed he was carefully keeping his feet on the hardwood, unconsciously following Coach’s rule of no street shoes on the mats. He couldn’t believe the path to saving Megan and ending this led through this room where he and Luke had spent so much time.
“That was hardcore back there,” Luke said. “With the hand. You done that kind of thing before?”
Riker didn’t see the point of lying to his old friend. “Yeah, unfortunately, I have.”
“Damn.” He paused. “That was a pretty good takedown. Never thought I’d get to see you wrestle in this gym again. I think you might have a future in the sport.”
“Let’s s
ave Megan and David. Then we’ll plan my big comeback.”
The two men moved quietly out of the wrestling room and into a long hallway lined with classrooms. Despite Riker’s fear that the gunshots may have given them away, no one appeared to be heading for the gym. The hallways were empty and quiet. Riker was glad he’d paid a visit to the school the day of the wake; otherwise he wouldn’t know which classroom was Megan’s.
Riker stayed focused, trying not to think about all the kids and teachers in the classrooms they were passing, probably terrified at the lockdown. Had they been able to hear the gunshots? He hoped not.
He glanced over his shoulder and saw Luke six feet behind him, pistol clutched in a two-hand grip. Luke might not have military training, but he was doing well, going on instinct and following Riker’s lead.
They came to a place where the hallway intersected with another one, and Riker slowed. Off to his right, he heard a thump, like someone stomping on the ground. Instinctively, he turned toward it, and he caught a glimpse of a man crouching behind a gap in the lockers.
With a sickening feeling, he suddenly realized the noise had been intentional, meant to distract him and draw his attention away from—
He spun to his left, raising his pistol, preparing to fire at the man he knew would be waiting down the other hallway. A gunshot erupted before Riker could fire, and he tensed, expecting to feel the impact of a round hitting him.
Instead, the man down the hallway let out a grunt and collapsed. As he fell, Riker saw a figure behind him, holding a pistol. Officer Alvarez.
Riker didn’t stop to offer his thanks just yet. Instead, he spun back toward the man down the other hallway. He was leaning out from behind the lockers now, preparing to take his shot, but Riker fired first, putting a round through his forehead.
He turned back to Officer Alvarez. “Thanks for the assist. He would have had me if you hadn’t been there.”
“Serve and protect,” she said with a forced smile. “It’s what I do. You okay?”
He nodded. “You?”
She returned his nod, but he could see she was shaken up. He couldn’t blame her. It wasn’t every day a small-town cop gets into a shootout with members of a Columbian drug cartel.
“Come on. They’re going after Megan. We have to hurry.”
The three of them headed on down the hallway, Riker running the numbers as they went. If the man in the gymnasium was telling the truth, there were only four cartel members left. Hell of a lot better odds than Riker was used to facing. They just might be able to pull this off.
They reached Megan’s classroom, and Riker peered through the rectangular window in the door. Inside, he saw students huddled under their desks. He didn’t see any gunmen, but he didn’t see Megan either. He threw open the door and rushed inside.
“Everybody all right?” he asked.
He saw some nods.
“We are now that you’re here,” one girl answered.
Near the front of the room, he saw one boy clutching his right shoulder.
“Blake,” Luke said, stepping forward. “Are you all right?”
“They stomped on my shoulder. I’ll be okay.” He stared at Riker, his eyes pleading. “You’re going to save them right?”
“Save who? What happened here?”
Blake’s gaze shifted to Luke. “It was him. El Leon. He took David and Ms. Carter.”
44
Riker charged down the hallway, pushing away the pain in his leg, his sole focus on Megan. The cartel men had her, and if he didn’t stop them, they would get away with her. Images from the story of what had happened to Sam, Donnie’s brother, flashed through his mind. A steel barrel. Gasoline. A match. He had to imagine they had something similar planned for Megan. And why? All because Riker had dared to stand up to them? She shouldn’t have to pay the price for that. He was just as responsible for David’s safety. After all, it had been David’s father’s refusal to go after Riker that had put them on the wrong side of the cartel in the first place.
Riker and his friends were the only chance Megan and David had.
These thoughts fueled him, making the pain in his leg feel like a small thing by comparison.
Luke and Office Alvarez were to his left, matching him stride for stride. Blake had said the men had gone right when they left Megan’s classroom, which indicated to Riker they’d been heading toward the school’s main entrance. They needed to catch up before they reached the parking lot and whatever vehicle waited for them there.
They rounded a corner and spotted two men up ahead, one gripping David’s arm and the other holding on to Megan. They were only ten feet from the exit. Riker pushed himself even harder, all his attention focused on the two men.
Suddenly something collided with Riker’s face, and the world went topsy-turvy. His feet continued forward even as his head and torso stopped, and he landed flat on his back. The hallway swam before his suddenly watering eyes.
A foot slammed into his wrist, causing the hand to go instantly numb. He heard his pistol skid across the floor and clang against a locker.
Riker didn’t allow himself even a moment to wonder what had happened. He pushed himself quickly to his knees, struggling to maintain balance and not collapse again. As his vision began to clear, he saw a towering figure step out from the cross hallway, his face expressionless. From where Riker knelt, the man looked about seven feet tall. He was broad shouldered, and he held his massive hands raised in front of him. Riker knew immediately who stood before him. It was El Leon.
A blur of motion behind El Leon snapped Riker back to reality. The other two men still had Megan and David, and they would be gone soon. He turned toward Alvarez and Luke. “Go!”
Luke nodded and took off down the hall. Alvarez cast a wary glance at El Leon before following.
The big man paid them no mind; his sole focus was on Riker.
“You conversed with my employer on the telephone.” He spoke the words carefully, like a man hesitantly stepping out onto a frozen lake.
Riker struggled to his feet. His leg was still screaming, and his nose had joined in the chorus as well now. He flexed his fingers, the feeling returning to his right hand, though the movement brought sharp pain along with it. El Leon had delivered a hell of a blow when he’d knocked Riker to the floor. Blood poured out of his nose, and some of it leaked into his mouth, coating his tongue with the unpleasant taste of copper.
The big man waited while Riker stood up, patiently watching. Though Riker could see the bulge of a pistol under his jacket, the big man made no move for it. Riker could tell El Leon was the type of man who liked to work with his hands.
Now that Riker was on his feet, he saw that El Leon was only a couple inches taller than he was. He still looked like he’d been carved from granite though; perspective did nothing to change that.
“Yeah, I spoke to your employer.” Riker’s words came out a bit muffled due to the blood clogging his nose. “Gave him a chance to back out of this. Shame he didn’t take it.”
“He wishes me to tell you that you have cost his organization a great deal of money. He considers this a personal insult. For that reason, you and your loved ones will pay with your—”
Riker twisted at the hip, attacking with a sudden, lightning-quick right hook intended to hit El Leon in the jaw. Somehow—impossibly—El Leon snapped his torso backward, leaning at the waist and protecting himself with both forearms like a boxer. Riker’s blow missed completely.
Riker let out a grunt, his momentum carrying him forward as his fist flew harmlessly past the big man’s shoulder. He moved with the momentum, taking a shaky step forward, planting the foot of his good leg on the floor, and driving a left-handed uppercut into El Leon’s chin. This time, the fist connected, and it was as solid of a blow as Riker had thrown in his life. A jolt ran up his arm as his knuckles slammed into the jawbone.
El Leon stumbled backward, his eyes suddenly wide. For a beautiful moment, it seemed he was going to fall. The
n he recovered. For the first time, his face betrayed emotion. Anger flashed in his eyes.
He took a big step toward Riker, his long gait making the distance between them disappear in an instant. His left hand came up, intending to repay Riker’s uppercut with one of his own. Riker clocked the punch and leaned backward, moving out of the path of the massive fist. But as the hand whizzed past his face, Riker realized his mistake. El Leon had taken note of his opponent’s injury. The punch had been a trap, and Riker had fallen for it. In leaning back, he’d exposed his legs to attack. El Leon brought his foot up and stomped downward, driving his boot into Riker’s injured shin with the force of a sledgehammer.
Pain exploded and Riker heard his own voice crying out in pain as his vision tunneled. He suddenly found himself on his hands and knees, the hallway around him swimming. He drew a breath, trying to get his bearings, trying to center himself for the fight. As he forced himself upward, something pressed against his throat.
El Leon was behind him, his arm wrapped around Riker’s neck. And his hold was tightening.
Megan stumbled forward, moving her legs fast as she tried to keep her balance. Ever since they’d left the classroom, she’d been struggling to remain upright, unable to regain her footing in this world turned upside down. But she was still standing, and that was something.
The man’s hand was like a vise around her upper arm, his long fingers wrapping almost all the way around. He marched down the long hallway, gripping her arm like the handle on a piece of luggage. He paid about as much mind as he might pay a piece for luggage, too. He had yet to so much as look her in the eye or speak to her. He simply kept wordlessly moving forward.
She heard some commotion behind them and struggled to get her head turned around without falling over. She twisted it just enough to see who was behind them--Matt! For the first time since El Leon and his goons had stepped into her classroom, she felt a spark of hope. She just might be able to make it through this.