by H. L. Wegley
Something moved in the periphery of Jeff's vision. He grabbed Allie's shoulders and pulled her down behind a nearby rock protrusion.
The staccato belching of assault rifles sounded and two lines of flying dirt and rock fragments passed by them on either side.
Though the gunmen on the cliff were stopped for now, the two men approaching from the lookout tower had Jeff and Allie at their mercy. They had found the way around the cliff.
Jeff grabbed a baseball-sized rock to use as a weapon. He shoved Allie flat on the ground with his other hand. He raised to throw the rock, but dropped to the ground when the boulder proved too short to protect him.
With Allie squirming under his hand that still pinned her to the ground, Jeff had run out of options for defending Allie and him.
Jeff’s gaze darted back and forth between the notch on the cliff and the approaching gunmen. He couldn’t stay crouched by the rock letting the gunmen shoot him and come for Allie.
He drew his arm back in throwing position and waited for the men to move closer.
A loud whoosh followed by a whirring sound turned his head toward the northwest.
From the next ridge over, a helicopter shot up into view and rushed at them a half mile away.
Somehow in the confusion of the battle, the chopper had spotted them and snuck in behind the mountain to the northwest. Now it turned broadside to them and several guns jutted out the door.
Jeff raised his arm and waved at the chopper.
The two gunmen by the tower started a loud, heated discussion.
One of the men raised his gun and fired a short burst at them.
Fragments of rock stung Jeff’s hand. He pulled it down, ducked behind the rock, and glanced at the bleeding cuts.
Allie tried to sit up.
He couldn’t let her become a target. Jeff shoved her head down to the ground and pinned it there.
She twisted her head beneath his hand.
Jeff yelped as pain shot through his hand.
Allie had bitten his finger.
“Don't shove me around again. Leave my head alone. Do you understand?” Allie's voice had become deep, growling at him with a Spanish accent.
Great. One hand was bleeding from being hit by flying fragments, and he'd nearly lost a finger on the other hand. But he’d learned one of Allie’s hot buttons. Don’t mess with her head.
At least the gunmen hadn’t shot again. Jeff raised his head a few inches and glanced their way.
The men by the lookout had started a shouting match in Spanish.
Jeff raised his head higher to see what was happening.
The two men ran by the lookout and headed south still in an intense argument.
A long burst of gunfire from the helicopter ended the argument. One of the thugs fell, then jumped up and ran out of sight. The other man limped away headed the same direction his luck had gone … south.
“What were they saying, Allie?”
“I'm sorry.” She cupped his cheek.
“They weren't sorry for trying to kill us.”
“I mean I'm sorry for biting you. I wanted to see what was happening, but you kept shoving my mouth into the dirt.” She pulled her hand from his cheek and stuck a finger in his face. “No one shoves me around and gets away with it, Jeff Jacobs. Do you understand me?”
He retreated from her accusing finger. “Yeah. I understand. Like the mob, you lose a finger for every transgression. Now, what were they saying when they ran over the peak? It was something about the poodle.”
“Not quite. It was meant for you, Jeff, but I won't translate it. I don't talk that way and, about you, I think just the opposite.”
“Come on, Allie give me a—”
Suddenly the helicopter veered sharply away. A boom sounded from the base of the cliff, followed by a whooshing sound. The fiery tail of a rocket streaked across the blue sky, barely missing the chopper.
A quarter of a mile away an explosion of fire and smoke appeared against the powder blue sky. The report seemed to resonate in Jeff’s chest when it pounded him.
“What the—the goons have RPGs! Let's run down the trail to the notch and watch this, Allie.”
“So now that there's a war to watch you just forget about me?”
How could he keep up with her mood changes? And he wasn't doing very well at anticipating their causes. “As long as I live, Allie, that's something you don't have to worry about. We can watch from here.”
The words were out before he thought about their implications. It didn't matter. As best he knew, they were the truth, no matter what the future held for them.
When Jeff looked up into the blue sky, the chopper had swung broadside toward the cartel men.
They had quickly abandoned their attempt to climb the rock face and now focused on the helicopter.
More guns protruded from the chopper and the noise of gunfire sounded for several seconds, kicking up dust all around the cartel gunmen.
One of the goons yelled and fell.
The rest ran away.
Jeff made a quick tally. He counted five who had gotten away safely. The two who had run to the south were wounded, but still loose. The one who had taunted Allie was squashed by the boulder and two men lay still after being hit by FBI gunfire.
Ten men had come in three trucks to get them, even after the cartel knew Allie had contacted the authorities. Why did they want her so badly? He didn't like the answer he came up with. It was pure vindictiveness. They were evil and bent on revenge, the same kind of revenge that left limbs and heads along Mexican roads.
There was no safe place for Allie as long as there were cartel members alive who remembered what she had done to them. What she had done to them—he looked at Allie and smiled. She had broken their hold on this whole area. In the process, she had gotten a firm hold on another area, an area that included Jeff Jacobs’ heart.
His musings ended when the chopper hovered over Allie and him.
Allie's hair blew behind her in long, dark wisps, that made this beautiful, brown-eyed woman look like a model at a photo shoot, not a woman who had spent a night on the mountain without a bath and without makeup.
A voice blared over the PA system of the chopper. “This is the FBI. Jeff Jacobs and Alejandra Santiago, you're safe. We can't land on the peak, so we'll lift you. We're sending someone down to assist.”
A man in a harness dropped out of the chopper.
Allie stepped close and circled Jeff with her arms. “I can't do this … just hang out there in the air.”
“You'll be in a harness. There's no way you can fall.”
“But I—”
“I'll explain to the guy coming down. He's probably dealt with acrophobia before.”
After touching down, a large man in what looked like a camouflaged military uniform unhooked himself and approached them. “I'm Special Agent Nelson, FBI. Let's get you two out of here. Ladies first, Ms. Santiago.”
“Nelson, she's afraid of heights. Have you—”
“Got just the thing for you.” He pulled out something resembling a scarf and fashioned a blindfold, then tied it around Allie's head.”
“What are you doing? I’ll know when you lift me and not being able to see will only make me—”
“We won't go until you're ready, Ms. Santiago. But let me get the harness around you.” He buckled Allie in and secured the harness. But Nelson clipped himself on the line, too. “Now, we'll just lift you a few inches off the ground to let you get the feel of it. I'm right here beside you. How does it feel?'
“Uh … not as scary as I thought. But please wait a minute before we go any higher.”
Jeff watched as Allie was lifted up ten feet, then twenty feet.
Clipped on beside Allie, Agent Nelson talked to her until an arm reached out of the chopper and pulled the two inside.
A loud yell sounded above the whir of helicopter blades. A man’s voice.
A few moments later, Nelson came back down. After he hit the
ground he limped toward Jeff.
“What happened to you, man? Did you bump your leg getting in?”
“You might say that. She kicked me in the shin when the blindfold came off. Called me a liar. Well, at least she's safe.”
Jeff grinned. “Yeah. She's safe. But I don't know about you when you go back up. She’s a runner. Has strong legs. FYI, she nearly bit my finger off when I shoved her face in the dirt to keep her head from being shot.”
“Beautiful but violent.” Nelson frowned. “Is she always like that?”
“Not when she kisses you.”
“Kisses you? You're a lucky guy, Jacobs.” Nelson secured Jeff in the harness. “How did you manage that?”
“I still haven't figured that out. But if I do, I'm not gonna' tell anybody.”
The line tightened and Jeff went airborne, swinging gently as he rose to the wop, wop beat of the chopper.
A man built like an NFL linebacker pulled Jeff into the helicopter and removed the harness. The big man shoved a huge hand at him. “Jacobs. I'm Agent McCheney.”
Jeff took the hand. “At last, the big, ugly guy in the flesh. A minute later, McCheney, and you might have been too late.”
“We had our eye on you, Jacobs. And you need to be careful who you're calling names. Your girlfriend here's a lot nicer than you.”
“Girlfriend?”
Allie whirled toward him, frowning at his reply.
“How did you come up with that assessment, McCheney?”
“Told you we had our eyes on you … for quite a while. See.” He lifted up a powerful pair of binoculars.
It was time to get serious. “So what can you tell us about my girlfriend’s family?”
Allie's frown disappeared and she scooted close to his side.
The chopper turned and headed toward town.
“Her family. I was hoping you could help us there.” McCheney sighed. “We found a plantation early this morning, but it had already been abandoned. It was partially harvested and it looked like the farmers left in a big hurry.”
“You didn't find any …” Allie's voice trailed off.
McCheney’s voice grew soft. “No, we didn't. Everyone appears to have been moved. We'll talk about that after we get you back to Jacobs’ place. We're arranging protection for you there—for both of you, if you don't mind staying at Mr. Jacobs’ house, Ms. Santiago.”
“Please call me Allie.” She smiled at Jeff. “No, I don't mind. Uh … we'll be chaperoned, won't we?”
“By the best U.S. Marshals that your tax dollars can buy.” McCheney stared intently at Allie. “Well, the best money that U.S. tax payer's money can buy.”
Allie returned McCheney’s look, staring with equal intensity. “My parents were fleeing the cartel and thought they were coming here legally with work visas. Instead they were taken as slaves. They're good people.”
McCheney nodded. “We'll continue our discussion once we're on the ground.”
Jeff met the big agent's gaze. “What about the gunmen running loose on the ground?”
“Don't worry about them,” McCheney said. “We've got people on the ground tracking them.”
“But you saw what kind of weapons those guys have. How—”
“Like I said, Jacobs. Don't worry about them. We can handle them. What we need to do now, is pick your and Ms. Santiago's brains and come up with a plan to save her family and, hopefully, end the cartel operations in the Ore-Cal border region. We'll round up these cartel peons and hope they lead us up the ladder to—”
“El Capitan.” Allie blurted out with disdain in her voice.
“Yeah. To their leader.” McCheney replicated Allie's contempt. “Do you know why the cartel wants you even after you notified us, Ms. Santiago?”
“Yes. Do you mean that you don't?”
McCheney looked uncomfortable. “I just wanted you to realize that … well, you're still in danger and—”
“Agent McCheney, you think I not know what they want?” Allie switched to a heavy Spanish accent, speaking in broken English. “My head beside r-r-roadway.” She reverted to impeccable English. “Revenge. If you cost the Sinaloa Cartel twenty million dollars, as I have, they will make you pay. As long as anyone who remembers you is still alive, you will pay.”
Chapter 10
Allie studied the ground near Jeff's house as the helicopter descended. It touched down softly not far from a black sedan parked along the street.
“Looks like I've got a new door, and a doorman.” Jeff pointed toward the armed man standing by a door that did not match the exterior of his house.
“He's a new addition to our marshals in the region. One of the best.” McCheney boomed out over the whopping of the chopper blades.
“Listen up,” McCheney said, as the rotors spun down. His piercing gray eyes sent a chill tingling up Allie’s back when those eyes focused on her. “We're going into the house, shortly. You will let our men escort you, but we'll be moving quickly. It's just a precaution. Do you understand?”
Was she going to get special protection? Something like witness protection? The thought of being under the control of the authorities and the resultant loss of freedom was unsettling. But as long as she could be with her family and Jeff, especially Jeff, she could tolerate protection.
Sandwiched between FBI agents, Jeff and Allie scurried to the door and stepped inside the house.
The armed man guarding the door turned toward her and Jeff. He was medium height with a muscular build. Probably mid-30s. He shoved a hand at Jeff. “I'm Marshall Wes Smith.”
Jeff grinned. “Wes Smith… Smith and—”
“Okay. That's enough fun with my name.” Wes returned Jeff's grin.
“I'm Jeff Jacobs and this is—
Wes cut in. “Ms. Alejandra Santiago.” Wes focused on her. “Your, uh, fame precedes you, Ms. Santiago.”
“Just call me Allie, please.”
Her request drew a smile from Jeff. He slipped his arm around her.
Wes's eyes darted back and forth, looking from Jeff to her. “I'm seeing a picture here. Are you two like … a couple?”
Allie waited.
Jeff didn’t reply.
She looked up at Jeff. “Well, aren't you going to answer the man?”
“After what we've been through, Allie and I have grown close, really close. Yeah, we're a couple.”
“I see.” Wes raised his eyebrows. “If you two youngsters need a chaperone…”
What was Wes insinuating. “Jeff's an honorable man, Mr. Smith.”
“But, Ms. Sant—”
“Just Allie.”
“Uh … Allie, I was only trying to—”
“That's enough, Reverend Smith.” McCheney's voice of authority brought the room to attention. “Wes likes to play the father role. In this case, he's nearly old enough to—”
“I turn twenty-one in a couple of weeks, Agent McCheney. He's hardly old enough to be my father.” She didn't like being discussed in this manner. “I am an adult, and in matters of the heart, quite able to look after myself.”
“It wasn't your heart I was worried—”
“Enough, Wes.” McCheney sighed and met Allie’s gaze. “Wes means well … let's move to the dining room table. We have a lot to discuss.”
While they walked into the dining room, she whispered in Jeff's ear. “If he tries to tell me what I can or can’t do with you, I'll—”
“Kick him in the shin like you did Nelson?” Jeff said as he grinned at her.
“If anyone kicks one of my men, I'm going to arrest them for assault.” McCheney's voice boomed from behind them.
Was he serious? She glanced back at McCheney's face.
Allie couldn't decipher his expression but didn’t feel inclined to challenge the man.
She sat down beside Jeff at the table, and scooted her chair close to his.
McCheney sat directly across the table from her. “Miss Sant—, uh, Allie, you told us on the phone about your family's situatio
n in Nogales and what happened after they entered the United States. We need some descriptions. What is your father's full name?”
“Full name? Our lineage goes back to the Spanish Conquistadors.”
“We don’t need your whole family tree.”
“Rafael Santiago, my dad, is forty-five. He's about five-foot-ten, medium build—a handsome, dignified looking man.”
“What about your mother?”
“Lorena Santiago. She's forty-one, five-foot-five, slender … a pretty woman.”
Wes turned from the living room window. “No surprise there.”
“This is my show, Wes. Just watch the window,” McCheney said. “You'll get a turn later. What about your little brother?”
“Benjamin's eleven. A wonderful, bright boy. I'm afraid they'll sell him to the traffickers.”
“You try your best to help us, and we'll do everything humanly possible to make sure that doesn't happen.” McCheney had lowered his voice and he met her gaze.
For the first time, a softness appeared on McCheney's face and in his eyes.
So her family members were real people to this FBI agent. Not just descriptions. It gave her hope.
“You said you were only held for a few hours at the marijuana growing site. Did you hear about any other plantations in the area?”
“They mentioned another marijuana site to the south, or the southeast, about fifteen miles away.”
“Any other locations of any sort that you heard them mention?”
“Yes. A more remote location maybe thirty miles to the south. I don't know if it was another marijuana farm or not. It was north of the Klamath River, but that's all I remember.”
“Anything else you can tell us?”
“Yes. Find them, McCheney.”
“We will, Allie.” McCheney wrote in his notepad for several seconds, then looked up at Jeff. “Jacobs, you said they shot at you on more than one occasion. I need some details if we’re going to charge these guys.”
“You mean that RPG they shot at you wasn’t enough?”
“We want all the charges. You don’t want these guys ducking charges and roaming the streets or the mountains again, do you?”
Jeff shook his head and sighed. “Yesterday, when I was carrying Allie, they shot at me.” He lifted his shirt sleeve, revealing the wound.