Sierra himself was well hidden behind several of his men, and all he could see of him was his right arm, and so his first strike would have to be against one of his soldiers.
KA POH!
The shot hit a man standing at the front of the group and took off the right side of his face.
As the body fell to the ground, Sierra and his men scrambled to safety behind their vehicles.
He stood, letting himself be seen, even though he was little more than a shadow in the night. He fled into the woods, and then fired a succession of shots at the cars, shattering windshields in an attempt to foster engagement.
However, the men simply answered him with a volley of their own at the position he had fired from, a position he had already abandoned by quietly crawling along a pre-cleared path in the underbrush.
He grimaced in frustration.
He had set many traps during the previous hours, but for them to work, the rats had to give chase.
“Hunt that motherfucker down!” Sierra shouted to his men.
A moment later, several heads peeked out from behind the cars, then, they crept forward towards the trees where the shots had come from.
He left them to their search and began circling around towards the back side of the motel, where he had left a rope ladder dangling from the roof, once on top, he crawled over to the front edge of the roof to watch his first trap be sprung.
The men eased into the forest, eyes searching for any movement. One of the men tapped another on the shoulder and whispered something to him, after that, the men split into two groups and splintered to the right and the left.
Excellent, he thought, as he grabbed the transmitter and shouted into it.
“Look out! He’s behind you!”
He then fired off three shots near the transmitter.
Down below in the trees, men spun around in their tracks and fired blindly at the sound of the shots coming over the three receivers he had attached to various branches. He fired two more shots and the chaos increased as the men fired in different directions, and their errant shots struck their comrades.
“Stop shooting you dumb bastards he’s on the roof,” shouted Sierra, who then ordered the men who remained at his side to fire upwards, but again, he was already gone and moving into another position.
Men staggered from the trees, some wounded from the friendly fire, others from tripping over unseen roots as they fled in their panic, and four of the men who entered the trees now lay among them dead, shot fatally by their comrades.
One of the men walked over to Sierra and held up an object.
“It’s a baby monitor! He used a damn baby monitor to make us think he was shooting at us.”
Sierra ripped the receiver from the man’s grasp and slammed it to the dirt.
“Spread out! We’ll move from front to back and hunt this bastard down. Stay out of the trees, and if you hear any movement coming from them, blast it. He can’t use tricks to get out of this, there are too damn many of us, now let’s get him!”
He was in the office, watching them approach. Several of the men were injured in either the arm or the leg, and the right side of one man’s shirt was wet with blood, but what made him smile was their number, they were sixteen.
That meant that he had taken out five of them and greatly increased his odds, and now it was time to improve them some more. That’s when he took out the crossbow.
Earlier, he had shattered the wide glass window at the front of the office to allow himself an unobstructed view for firing. He was going to use the night vision goggles to aid his aim, but Sierra and his men were carrying flashlights, and so he simply aimed at the shadowy form behind the beam.
Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Thunk!
He fired off four, twenty-inch long arrows, all in rapid succession, and heard four distinct grunts of pain follow their release.
He then dived to the floor and crawled out the back door as a barrage of shots splintered the wood and plaster above him.
He heard someone cry. “Ah shit, Toby’s got a fuckin’ arrow stickin’ out of his eye.” even as he double-timed it to the rear, to the shed in the back.
There were two more dead and two more injured, and those left were brimming with anger and bloodlust.
He watched them through the small window in the shed as they approached the rear of the property, and took note that this time they crept forward without their flashlights, and as the first of the men walked past the edge of the motel, he began pulling the start cord on the generator.
Nothing,
Two more pulls, and still nothing, but the sound carried well in the still night air, and one of the men pointed towards the shed.
“He’s in there!”
He checked the machine to make certain that the engine switch was set to ON and that the choke was in the proper position. He pulled again and the machine gurgled but refused to roar to life.
Pow Chunk!
The shot entered the shed and missed him by less than a foot.
He knew that at any moment the men outside would deliver a fusillade of shots into the building and that once that happened, he would surely be struck by one or more of them.
He needed the generator to work. It was the key to his defense and could nearly even the odds once his plan came to fruition, but if it wouldn’t start, he would have to abandon it and take to the shelter of the trees.
As a second and then a third shot whizzed past him, he said a silent prayer and gave the cord a final yank.
CHAPTER 18
Detective Miller strolled into Sierra’s sports bar just as it was closing up.
The bartender, a college kid with long hair and tattoos, sent him a wave and placed a beer atop the bar.
“You’re late tonight, Miller, and hey, Mr. Sierra’s not here.”
Miller took a seat on a barstool and glanced down the hallway.
“There’s a light on in his office.”
“Yeah, something’s going on, Grady and Dutch are in there keeping Mrs. Sierra on ice until the boss returns, but you know me, I don’t ask questions.”
“That’s a good policy, now why don’t you go home.”
“I will, but first I’ve gotta—”
Miller shook his head.
“No Steve, you want to go home now.”
“But the boss—”
“Ain’t coming back,”
“What?”
“Goodnight Steve.”
Steve took off his apron and hurried towards the door without another word.
Miller watched him go.
“Smart kid,”
He stood and removed a gun from his pocket. The gun was so small that he was able to palm it in his meaty hand. He then drifted down the hall while mumbling and singing to himself, and when he reached the door to the office, he tried the knob.
“Hey, Donato, it’s me Miller, let me in,” he slurred.
One of the men opened the door and Miller could see that the other man was seated in one of the chairs in front of the desk; he was playing a game on his phone and paid Miller no attention.
Miller stumbled into the room as if he were drunk.
“Where’s my buddy, Donato? I wanted to see if he wanted to play cards.”
“The boss isn’t here,” said the first man.
Miller looked to his right and saw Reina lying on the sofa, when she glanced over at him, he could see that her eyes were red from crying.
He weaved his way over to sofa and smiled down at her.
“Hello Missus, how ya doin?”
“Leave her alone, Miller, the boss said that she wasn’t to talk to anyone.”
“I’m not just anyone, and she looks like she could use some company.”
The man grabbed him by the shoulder and spun him around.
“I said—”
And that’s when Miller shot him in the left eye.
For the first time since he entered the room, the second man looked at him, and it would turn out to be
the last thing he would ever see, as Miller fired three quick shots at him, and struck him with two in the chest. The man grunted, reached a hand out for Miller, and fell to the floor atop his phone, which then emitted a happy sound, indicating that he had won his game.
Miller turned his head and spoke to Reina.
“I’m not here to hurt you.”
Reina had scrambled atop the sofa with her feet up on the cushions, and was staring back and forth between Miller and the dead men on the floor with wide eyes.
“I thought that you worked for my husband?”
“There’s a new sheriff in town, and before the night is over, you’re going to be a widow.”
Reina was breathing fast and had one hand over her heart.
“May I leave?”
“We’re both going; I have instructions to take you somewhere.”
“Where?”
“To meet the new sheriff,”
“I don’t understand?”
“I know, but I need you to come with me.”
“Is Donato dead?”
Miller smiled.
“It’s just a matter of time.”
***
One last pull and the generator stirred to life, which caused the powerful sump pump inside the bucket to start up, and force the fluid into the hose. It also electrified the lights he’d strung up in the trees.
Sierra gestured up at the lights.
“He’s trying to make us easier to see, but to do it he had to start that generator, follow the sound and you’ll find him!”
They came rushing forward then, each man converging on a single point, and that’s when his trap was sprung.
First came the rhythmic clicking sound of the oscillating sprinklers, as they sent forth their spray from the weeds they were hidden among, and as the first drops of liquid hit their targets, realization and panic dawned on their faces.
“It’s gas! The sprinklers are throwing off gas!”
As the men turned to run, he lit his final arrow, and let it fly to land in their midst.
Screams of agony filled the night, as nearly a dozen men became engulfed in flames and human torches danced macabrely in the glow.
Sierra and three of his men had avoided the trap by hanging back, but they looked on now in revulsion as their comrades fell in writhing piles upon the ground.
Almost as one, the men turned and fled back the way they had come, and he followed them by hurrying among the trees.
He heard it then, someone was coming up behind him and when he turned to face them, he beheld a scene of horror. It was one of the burning men. His face was a charred mess and his clothes were still aflame.
When he tried to sidestep away from the shambling monstrosity, his heel caught on a tree root and he fell backwards onto the forest floor, and then watched in helplessness as the man finally died and followed him down, to fall on top of him.
The odor of the burnt flesh nearly made him retch and the Ghillie suit he wore was now aflame.
He pushed the body off and began shedding the burning suit, but cried out in pain as the flames ate at his left arm.
Shots rang out and he ducked for cover. Sierra and his men must have heard the commotion in the trees and fired blindly at the light from the fire.
His gun!
He could not find his gun and realized that he must have lost it in the undergrowth when he stumbled backwards.
There was another one in a pocket of the Ghillie suit, but that piece of equipment was ablaze, as the very things that made it effective, the twigs and leaves, now acted as fuel for the fire that consumed it.
In preparation for battle, he had hidden guns and ammo about the property. The nearest gun was secured to the low branch of a tree thirty yards away. He took off at a run, while weaving about to make himself more difficult to get a bead on, but when a bullet nipped at the cuffs of his jeans, he paused, and ducked behind a tree.
Sierra’s voice boomed in triumph.
“He’s not shooting back. The son of a bitch is out of ammo, keep firing.”
Multiple slugs bit into the tree and he gazed up longingly at the marked branch of a nearby tree, the branch where he’d secured a spare gun.
He peeked around and saw that one of Sierra’s men was closing in on his position.
After bending his knees, he leapt up and grabbed a lower branch of the tree he was hiding behind, then, he pulled himself up and onto it. The branch above was much thicker and he ran along it until it narrowed, and his weight caused it to bend, then he leaped to the ground and rolled over to the tree he needed.
BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
The four shots came from behind and two of them struck him in the back, and if not for the vest he wore, he’d be dead. He rolled over in agony from the impact of the bullets and was shocked to see Sierra’s man standing over him.
“Got you fucker, now get up.”
He stood slowly, and moved his weight to the balls of his feet, but as he was preparing to propel himself at the man, he saw him turn his head away and shout.
“Hey boss! You were right, he’s unarmed.”
When the man turned back, his hand was coming down from the branch and he watched the man’s eyes bulge in surprise an instant before he placed a bullet between them.
Sierra and his remaining two men had been rushing forward, but at the sound of the shot, they turned and ran out of the woods. When he came upon them, they were hunkered down behind the cars and Sierra was talking into his phone.
As he moved closer, Sierra shouted into the night.
“You haven’t won yet, bitch, and I’ve got a surprise of my own.”
He wondered what Sierra had meant by those words, but he didn’t wonder for long, as a set of headlights appeared around the curve and headed towards them, followed by another pair, and another.
Reinforcements,
If Sierra held true, then that meant that there were at least a dozen more men headed his way.
He sighed.
It was going to be a long night, and quite possibly, his last.
CHAPTER 19
Sierra’s reinforcements arrived in their cars, and the men within them scurried over by their boss.
Thirteen, thirteen more men had arrived and he knew he had his work cut out for him.
As the men left the cover of their vehicles and spread out to search for him, he spied yet another line of headlights headed his way. When the last one had rounded the curve, he counted five more cars and began to lose hope, but then he heard Sierra say something that changed everything.
“Who the hell are those guys?”
The first car kept coming as two men leaned out the back windows and fired into the line of Sierra’s men, killing at least three and wounding others. Once the cars had parked and their occupants emptied out of them, Sierra found himself outnumbered and outgunned.
He didn’t know who the other men were or why they were at war with Sierra, but he went to cover behind a wide tree to avoid the stray shots that were coming his way.
It was over less than five minutes later, and the moans of Sierra’s wounded were many but short-lived, as their opponents put them out of their misery with bullets to the heart or head, but over the sound of the shots he heard his name being called, being called by a voice he recognized.
“Szabo?”
“Yeah, and it’s all right, you can come out.”
He walked over to Szabo with his gun hanging at his side and surveyed the carnage. Then he looked at his benefactors and saw the faces of street soldiers.
He whispered to Szabo.
“What’s going on? These men aren’t DEA.”
Szabo smiled.
“No they’re not, and I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, his name is Cesar De La Rosa.”
De La Rosa nodded at him.
“It’s good to meet you,” he said, and after looking around, he added, “I see that you live up to your reputation, and you can call me Jinx.”
“Thank you for coming, both of you; I think you saved my life.”
There was a commotion and a bloodied Sierra was brought forth with his only remaining man, but then he spotted someone behind them that made him shout a warning and raise his weapon.
It was the man he had seen earlier at the farm, the one who had held the shotgun on Jimmy, and in his hands was the same gun.
De La Rosa placed a restraining hand on his arm.
“Whoa! That one is with me. He’s the reason we’re here. He texted me your location,”
“A spy?”
“Yes.”
The man walked over and smiled at him.
“You are one tough bastard, mister. Do you realized that you singlehandedly whacked half of Sierra’s crew?”
“He left me little choice.”
De La Rosa pointed towards Sierra’s surviving man, a Latino with a shaved head and the tattoo of a child’s face on his shoulder. He then spoke to the man holding the shotgun.
“What should we do with this one, Joe? It’s your call.”
Joe smiled at the man.
“Gabino’s cool, I’ll add him to my crew.”
Sierra spoke up.
“You can’t just take my territory away from me, De La Rosa. I got friends, politicians, cops, people who won’t stand for it.”
“You’ve got nothing but paid lackeys, Sierra, now be quiet and take it like a man.”
Joe, the man with the shotgun, looked over at De La Rosa, and De La Rosa sent him a solemn nod.
Sierra panicked and began babbling.
“No, no, no, you can’t do this. I’m important. I’ve got contacts, my supply chain; you need me alive, De La Rosa.”
“We’ll somehow manage without you, don’t you worry.”
The man with the shotgun pointed it at Sierra.
“Joe, don’t shoot me, shoot De La Rosa. We’ll take over his territory together, the two of us, think of it, just think of it.”
Joe sent him a smirk.
“You don’t pay me to think, remember?”
The blast tore a visible hole through Sierra’s mid-section, while propelling him several feet back.
Once his body hit the ground, he was forgotten.
The TAKEN! Series - Books 5-8 (Taken! Box Set Book 2) Page 24