Against the Rules

by Tori Carson

  On either side of the copter, two more guards sat cradling fully automatic weapons. Shit, he knew things had been going too smoothly. He couldn’t possibly take out one guard without the other noticing.

  Teague grabbed a handful of pebbles off the rooftop and pitched a couple near the ladder on the other side of the building. It was almost laughable. The goons were so busy chatting it up that they didn’t notice. So much for needing stealth. Changing tactics, he chose a larger pebble, tossed it a few times in the air to get a feel for its heft, then nailed the guard closest to him right behind the ear.

  Immediately, the guard bolted to his feet, his weapon skittering across the concrete. “Son of a bitch! I have had it with your shit!”

  To Teague’s satisfaction, he went around the nose of the bird and began pummeling the other guard.

  Barely suppressing an urge to laugh, he crawled along the rooftop to shoulder the discarded weapon. Inch by inch, he neared the cockpit. With any luck the two guards would knock each other out, but, not willing to trust Channy’s life on his luck, he kept a wary eye on them. Once inside the cockpit, it didn’t take long to add a little surprise for the unfortunate souls who would soon be coming after him.

  He knew his luck wouldn’t hold out. Before he could scurry out of the bird, the fight ended. One guard was dazed and slipping in and out of consciousness. The other was looking his way as if not trusting his vision.

  “If you’re done playing touchy feely with each other could you give me a hand?” Teague shouted, like he owned the place.

  “What are you doing? You’re not allowed up here.”

  “I’m fixing the damn bird. Quit fucking around and give me that socket,” Teague warned, pointing farther into the copter.

  The guard, obviously confused, leaned in to open the door. Teague used both feet to kick the door back into his face. Allowing his momentum to carry him through the opening, he landed on the stunned guard. A quick knife across the carotid ended any argument. He planted the blade into the palm of the unconscious guard hoping that it would fool the goons. If anyone looked too closely at the helicopter, they would discover the explosives and ruin their getaway.

  Teague gripped the railings of the ladder and slid to the last rung. Turning slightly, he jumped to the ground, landing as quietly as possible. Ever vigilant, Teague entered the motor pool through a different entrance. He approached the Hummer from a low vantage point, avoiding being seen from the mirrors. Crawling beneath the chassis, he assured himself that there were no surprises awaiting them. In one smooth motion, he swung off the floor, sighting down the barrel directly at Do-Rag.

  “Dude, you’re late.”

  “So, sue me.” Teague scanned the interior of the Hummer, still untrusting of his new-found partner in crime. It was just a bit too convenient that he would show up when Teague needed him most and his incessant questions about Channy had just plain pissed him off. Other than ‘Bob’ unconscious in the back seat, though, everything looked in order.

  With the Hummer already idling, Teague slid into the passenger seat. Before the door was closed, Do-Rag slipped the vehicle into gear. Out of nowhere, two armed to the teeth goons stepped in front of the Hummer with the barrels of their weapons aimed in the faces of Do-Rag and Teague.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chantel had lost track of time. Thankfully, her body had grown numb. She was pretty sure she had drifted off to sleep several times. For how long she had no idea. Occasionally, she would hear the whirling of the web camera changing position. Each time, her heart pounded in terror. She knew now what Teague had been trying to tell her. There were much worse things than death, or even physical torture.

  Her heart openly wept for Teague and her father. Both men would blame themselves. Just as she blamed herself for Teague being captured and dragged away at gunpoint. He had trusted her with his life and she had failed him miserably.

  It wasn’t in her to give up. She was determined to make it out alive. Still, realistically, she knew that the odds were against her. She was a teacher with only a Saturday self-defense class under her belt. Not to mention that the drugs still swirled around her system, making her reactions slow and clumsy. Utter exhaustion had left her raw. Every noise, real or imagined, sent adrenaline through her already stressed-out system.

  Ed, on the other hand, always kept himself in the best of shape. He worked out daily, was special forces trained—even with his advancing age he was a strong and deadly opponent.

  What hope did she really have?

  Before she could slip deeper into despair, the clanging of metal and scraping of wood alerted her that she was about to step a little farther into the rabbit’s hole.

  “Good morning, Chantel. How are you this morning?”

  Her throat, as dry as the desert floor, closed completely as he neared the cage. He sounded so casual and normal, like he had for years. When she didn’t answer immediately, his eyes pinned her with a glacial stare.

  “Fine, thank you,” she managed to get out, fearing to say anything else and set him off.

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it. I brought you some breakfast. I thought you might be hungry.”

  The pounding of her heart sent the circulation rushing through muscles that had long ago knotted into tight, painful cramps. How could he sound so normal? So much like the man she had always thought of as an eccentric uncle.

  After pulling the key from his pocket, he unlocked the cage. He reached inside and clicked the release on the pulley. Her body immediately collapsed. Her leg muscles were fatigued beyond the ability to hold her weight. He didn’t seem to notice, as he left her in a kneeling position to pull a chair up to the opening of the cage.

  “You’ll of course have to wait like the bitch in heat that you are, while I finish mine.” His calm, soothing voice had been replaced by the edgier tone she was now familiar with.

  The smell of hash browns, eggs and bacon was nauseating on her queasy, empty stomach.

  “The monkeys are beside themselves with anticipation. They can’t wait to get a look at my latest masterpiece,” he told her between slurping bites of food. “Your father especially. He can’t sleep at night he’s so anxious.” His eyes roamed her body, sending her stomach into a rolling, heaving mass. “They will just have to wait a while. It shouldn’t be long now before you’re cleansed in blood. Then our fun can begin in earnest.”

  He moved his chair back. With a bruising grip he pulled her from the cage and forced her to kneel on the concrete floor. “Now stay there like a good little bitch, while I ready your breakfast.”

  She watched as he added his scraps to a dog bowl and placed it in front of her. “Give me your hands,” he ordered, expecting her to be able to use muscles long ago seized. She tried, but they refused to work. She cringed, knowing that retribution was coming. Instead, he unclipped the chain holding the manacles together. “Now eat it like the dog you are.”

  A million responses flew through her brain. Eventually self-preservation won out. When he dragged her face down to the bowl she refused to fight him. He had too many weapons in his arsenal and all she had was patience. If she could lull him into a false sense of security, eventually he would make a mistake. While she endured yet another humiliation, she kept her mind on Teague. If she could get out of this mess, maybe she could still save him.

  * * * *

  Teague wished that he was behind the wheel. It killed him a little to not be in control. Placing his faith in someone else was foreign to him.

  Do-Rag tossed Teague a grin just before gunning the motor. Goons one and two dove out of the way. Goon one got lucky, goon two—not so much. The push bar caught him at the hip, sending his body under the bumper, in the direct path of the wheels. Upon impact, the goon’s itchy finger squeezed the trigger. Bullets ricocheted off the compound, shattering windows and activating the failsafe on the security system. Each broken window ignited a small explosion. The rocking of those blasts destroyed other windows causing a chain reactio
n. They couldn’t have asked for a better diversion.

  “College Boy,” a woozy, pissed off voice came from the back seat. “If I survive this, I’m gonna cap your ass.”

  “Bob, here I am saving your sorry hide and you’re giving me crap. What kind of thanks is that?”

  “The kind that’s gonna hurt for a long time.”

  Goon one cut loose with his auto, pinging the shit out of the Hummer. Lying on the ground diminished his aim, but at such close range it was impossible to miss. Snipers added their firepower to the mix. The side glass spidered. Small impact marks peppered the windshield. Apparently, Mr. G. had paid for armor plating because so far the metal was holding.

  As they neared the double gates, a massive explosion rocked the ground beneath them.

  “What the fuck?” Do-Rag asked, instinctively taking his foot off the gas pedal.

  “The helicopter hiccupped. Step on it, asshole, or we aren’t making it through those gates,” Teague instructed.

  “We can’t crash those unless you got an urge to come face-to-face with your maker. They’re rigged to blow.”

  “Give me a break. Why are these guys so blow happy?”

  “The idea was to slow down the feds long enough for them to get away through the tunnels.”

  “Don’t worry, college boy. I got the code, but you knew that, didn’t ya?”

  “Well, Bob, I knew you were good for something.”

  Do-Rag nailed the gas and tossed the Hummer into a slide bringing the vehicle along the block wall. Teague used his door for cover as he blanketed the area with bullets, giving the mechanic enough time to punch his code into the security keypad. Once the motors began to whine and doors began to peel back, Teague hopped back inside.

  “Floor it, College Boy, it doesn’t take long to type in the override.”

  “I’m on it, Bob. No worries.”

  The mechanic slapped Teague on the shoulder. “No worries, he says. I ain’t got no money, College Boy. I live here, eat here. What the hell am I supposed to do now? They ain’t gonna welcome me back with open arms, dumb shit, I told you to take the copter.”

  “The bird had the hiccups,” Teague informed him. “We got company.”

  Two Jeeps were right on their tail, firing as they went. The back glass fractured sending Bob into another tirade.

  Sirens could be heard in the distance. Do-Rag drove using the gas pedal as an on-off switch, trying to put some distance between them and the Jeeps. It would be impossible to blend in with traffic considering that the Hummer was shot to hell.

  “Should I take this sucker off road and try and lose them that way?”

  “Hell no. Those Jeeps have shorter wheel bases making them far more maneuverable and they’re considerably lighter. Stay on the main roads and head for a police station.”

  “Police station? Are you whacked? No police station!” Bob was emphatic. “They’re all on the payroll anyway.” He continued to mutter how stupid the idea was.

  “He’s got a point,” Do-Rag acknowledged. “We really don’t know who we can trust.”

  “Go to the satellite NBIA office in Tucson.”

  “I’m already headin’ that way. You know the orders are to lock your ass up and ask questions later.”

  “I figured as much.”

  “What am I hearin’, College Boy? You’re a fuckin’ fed? I ain’t goin’ to lock-up, College Boy. I saved your ass. Don’t be forgetting that. You just let me off here.” Crazy Bob opened the door as Do-Rag got off the gas to whip around a corner. Only Teague’s arm stopped him from making good on his escape.

  “We have a problem. This thing’s temperature gauge is pegged and she’s starting to knock.”

  “They must have got the radiator. We’ve got a helicopter buzzing over our heads too. Can you read the markings? I know it isn’t G.’s.”

  “It’s the county’s.”

  “The Jeeps are backin’ off. What do you think? Do we take a chance?”

  “Hell no. Floor this fucker. She ain’t gonna crap out on us,” Bob voiced his opinion.

  “Shoot for the satellite office.”

  “We’re losing power.” Steam was spewing through the cowl and between the fenders and hood, making it hard to see.

  “Civilians!” Teague yelled as two ladies stepped off the sidewalk right into their path.

  Do-Rag cranked the wheel, slamming Bob’s head into the door pillar. His curses were now a familiar rant causing both Teague and Do-Rag to chuckle.

  A police car sped closely behind them. A loud metal on metal sound rang out.

  “What the hell was that? Cops ain’t allowed to shoot at us,” Bob indignantly informed them.

  “They’re backing off. What the fuck? Climb back there, Bob. See what that was.”

  “Why do I have to do it? I didn’t want any part of this wagon train. You do it.”

  “As you wish.” Do-Rag let go of the wheel and turned to climb through the cab.

  Both Bob and Teague grabbed for the steering wheel. With his other hand, Teague stuck his pistol in Do-Rag’s face. “Knock that shit off. Get your ass back in that seat.”

  Do-Rag was laughing his head off as he hit the gas once more and took control of the wheel.

  Bob grumbled the entire time he crawled over the back of the seat complaining about everything. “They stuck a flag on the back of my baby.”

  “Get it off,” both Teague and Do-Rag ordered simultaneously.

  Bob kicked out the back glass. To get a strong grip on the flag, poor Bob had half his body hanging out of the smashed out window. When he pulled, the flag flew off in his hand. “I got a perty little flag, but the base didn’t come off,” he announced as he swung his head back through the window.

  “Use a tire iron,” Teague instructed.

  “On my baby? No way!”

  “I’m with Bob. I’d much rather be blown into the stratosphere than scratch up the pretty black paint,” Do-Rag replied.

  “Do-Rag, you need a woman. All you can think about is being blown.” Teague knew that it was a GPS tracking system the cops were toying with to reduce high speed chases in urban areas.

  Bob cackled as he rummaged through the back until he found a crowbar.

  “Fuck you!”

  “See what I mean, man? Damn, when was the last time you had a woman?”

  “At least I know better than to fornicate with the chief’s daughter.”

  Do-Rag’s snickering stopped abruptly when Teague’s fist collided with his jaw.

  He spat blood out onto the floor and cast Teague a low assessing glance as he maneuvered the Hummer into a parking garage. Even Bob fell silent, a remarkable accomplishment all of its own.

  A clunking sound acknowledged that Bob had successfully removed the GPS flag base. “Sorry, College Boy, looks like you won’t get blown today.” Bob took up Teague’s line of ribbing.

  “The day ain’t over yet.”

  “That one over there. The panel van.” Teague pointed to a mid-eighties, white, nondescript delivery van parked in front of the elevator. “Drive up to the next level and park.”

  As Do-Rag drove near it, Teague jumped out. In no time, he had entered the vehicle and hot-wired it. He left it running then headed for the motorcycle he’d spotted on their way in. Once Do-Rag and Bob made it to the satellite office, they’d be safe. Teague just couldn’t take the chance of being locked up. Not even for a short time. Channy needed him and every second might count.

  His normal luck had returned. The bike had several theft deterrents that had to be disabled. The giant clock in his brain was about to lose a cog by the time the four cylinder, liquid cooled, overhead cam fired up. He’d watched from a distance as Do-Rag circled the garage in the panel van he’d left for them. He could only assume that Bob was in the back. He did notice that Do-Rag’s eyes were ever diligent—looking for him, the cops or drug dealers he couldn’t be sure. Ditching him was a shitty thing to do, but necessary all the same.

  Siren
s were loud and stationary telling him that they had the exit blocked. He considered his options as he heard a motor gun it then crashing metal and screeching tires. Do-Rag’s van had hit the ass-end of a patrol car, spinning it into two others. Teague went over the curb and took off in the opposite direction of the highway. Do-Rag was saving his ass again. Teague wondered why…

  * * * *

  The chief had been listening to reports from Tucson law enforcement for hours. As soon as the explosions and shots fired were reported at the compound, he was immediately notified. Samuel, their agent undercover, had yet to check in. He’d ordered several agents from the local office to ‘assist’ with the investigation. He knew better than to constantly bust the chops of his men. Intellectually, he knew that if there was any word on Chantel they would let him know immediately. It didn’t help. His brain told him to just fly down there and direct the investigation himself, not wait for intel to drift through channels. Yet something stronger kept him here. It was foolish really. Wishful thinking that Chantel would suddenly drive through the gates. Heaven help four-six-two if he let anything happen to her. Death would be the least of his worries.

  * * * *

  Chantel noticed little crystals amongst the food he had set out for her. She knew, if she didn’t eat, Ed would beat her so she tried to eat around them without him noticing. If she could only lull him into complacency, she would have a chance at survival.

  “The monkeys have given up their search for you. They think you ran off. You didn’t fool anyone. We know all about your whoring ways. If your father ever finds Teague, he will make sure he never sees the light of day again. Of course neither will you, so it is a fitting end.”

  “My father loves and respects you, Ed. Why are you doing this to him?” She knew he wouldn’t change his course, but every time he spoke of Teague, she went berserk and her heart broke all over again. Sometimes the pain and worry over Teague was too much to bear.