Keep My Baby Safe

by Bella Grant

  “We need to find another set of stairs,” Tony told her, hurrying in the opposite direction. “This house is big enough it might have an extra set for the servants.” He stopped suddenly and turned around, staring at the two dead men on the floor behind them. “Wait here.”

  Grace had no idea what he was doing, so she pushed herself against the wall and waited for him. She watched as he knelt by the closest dead man. Downstairs and outside, yells and gunfire continued, and Grace wondered briefly where Guapo was. Had he escaped? Been injured? Or killed? Who cares? she decided, returning her focus to their safety when Tony returned to her.

  “Take this gun,” he said, pushing a pistol into her hand. “Use it if you have to.”

  Grace stared at it, realizing that he meant kill someone if she had to. Her stomach twisted painfully, but she swallowed her hesitation and fear and nodded. He lifted her chin with his finger.

  “I’ll do my best to shield you from that,” he said.

  “I’ll do what I have to do to get out,” she assured him, though she wasn’t certain she’d be able to. Remember the baby, she told herself, even if he is only a possibility. She wished she had somewhere to tuck the gun, but she was still in the ridiculous dress. She held it by the handle, her finger pointed and not on the trigger to avoid an accident. “Let’s go.”

  Tony led the way, carrying one pistol in his hand and another tucked at the small of his back and under his shirt. His clothes, like hers, were tight, and the gun’s outline was clearly visible. His steps were quick and quiet as a cat’s, and she tried to match him. The gun in her hand was awkward and heavy, a constant reminder of the danger they were in. She tried to look in every direction as they scampered down the hall and made a right, but no one was following them or appeared in front of them.

  “There,” Tony breathed, indicating the second set of stairs with his chin. He poked his head around the corner before heading down, and Grace assumed he saw no one because he gestured for her to follow him.

  As they descended, Grace noticed the gunfire had ceased, though the sound of her heartbeat was so loud she felt it sounded like cannon fire. She wondered if the battle was over and if that would prevent their escape. If they were busy shooting at each other, they wouldn’t be worried about her and Tony.

  Halfway to the bottom, two men appeared and looked up at them. Tony skidded to a stop, frozen, and Grace peeked around his shoulder, not recognizing either one. Tony pushed her back, and she moved up two stairs, the gun hidden behind her. She hoped she didn’t have to use it, but if she did, she figured the element of surprise would be her biggest ally.

  “I don’t want to shoot,” Tony whispered. “It will draw attention.”

  “Okay.” Grace hadn’t planned on firing her gun unless absolutely necessary, but she understood his reasoning.

  The stairwell was enclosed and narrow with little room for two people to walk side by side. Grace didn’t know if these men were Guapo’s or de Velazquez’s, but it didn’t matter. If the pair attempted to stop them, Tony would dispatch them, hopefully quietly.

  One of the men stepped forward and lifted his gun towards Tony, and Tony said something in Spanish. The man frowned and looked at his companion, who shrugged and replied. With her limited Spanish, she heard the word for kill, and she braced herself. Before either man could lift his gun to shoot, Tony ran at them, slamming his larger body into the two smaller men. All three tumbled backwards down the steps and around a corner, and Grace let out a squeak as she hurried down to check the damage.

  One of the men and Tony were fighting, grunting and rolling around on the floor to get the upper hand, while the other was trying to get to his feet. His arm below the elbow was at an odd angle, and he couldn’t stand up, his face a mask of pain. Tony and his opponent had remained on the floor and were wrestling to gain control. Grace and the man watched until Tony slammed the man’s head into the concrete floor, and the second man, who had clumsily returned to standing, pointed an unsteady pistol at Tony’s back.

  Grace shrieked a warning, and Tony turned. The man didn’t fire but pistol-whipped Tony, catching him in the forehead. Stunned, Tony fell, and the man turned his attention on Grace. She stared into his eyes and realized this man wasn’t planning to kill her; despite his obviously broken arm, he wanted to rape her. His cock was standing at attention under his pants, but with his broken arm, she was pretty sure he wouldn’t be able to manage. However, he was still marching towards her with evil intent in his eyes, so Grace lifted the pistol.

  “Stop,” she ordered, shocked her hand and her voice were strong and steady. “I will shoot you.”

  “No ingles,” he answered, grinning wickedly as if he didn’t think she’d actually use the gun.

  In her mind, she was panicking, but outwardly, she was calm. She stared at the man heading in her direction, and just as she was preparing to pull the trigger to save herself and her child, Tony leapt on his back, knocking him to the ground. The man howled in pain as he landed on his arm. Tony grabbed his chin and the back of his head, jerking hard to the right. A snapping sound indicated his neck was broken, and Grace put her hand over her mouth to avoid sickness.

  “Oh, my God,” she breathed, staring at the man on the ground. She looked up at Tony, whose head was bleeding. He was panting, and his eyes looked funny. She stepped over the prone body and hurried to help him. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Probably have a concussion, but I’ve had to push through one before,” he told her. She wasn’t the least reassured when he turned too abruptly and fell against the wall.

  She grabbed him around the waist. “Oh, shit. Come on, Tony. We have to get out of here.”

  “I’m not unconscious,” he mumbled, though he did put his arm over her shoulders to steady himself. “I’m just dizzy.”

  “Okay. Tell me what to do, where to go,” Grace told him as she tried to force him to hurry through a gorgeous but empty kitchen to a door that led to an expansive backyard that included a pool, two fountains, and a couple of tables with comfortable chairs.

  Tony looked in all directions, and Grace pointed out a gate to their left. “We have no idea where that goes,” he said, breathing heavily, “but that’s the only way I see. Let’s go.”

  She helped him walk quickly across the yard, and he listed slightly to the left. “Are you gonna be okay?”

  “He hit me hard,” he mumbled, shaking his head a little. “I must have a concussion.”

  “How can I help you?” she asked as she shoved at the gate, which opened silently.

  “Nothing. I’ll be fine,” Tony told her.

  She looked in every direction and felt despair crawling into her mind. “Tony, there’s nothing out here. It’s just barren desert. If we start walking, we’ll be seen, and even if we aren’t, we’ll die in the desert.”

  “No, no,” he said, frowning. “If we head west, we’ll find the air strip. I think it’s only about ten miles away from here.”

  “You think?” she asked, looking at him. His eyes were far away, and he seemed confused. His head bobbed in every direction like a rabid dog might. “Tony?”

  “Um, yeah,” he murmured. He forced himself to straighten and looked around more thoroughly. “Damn. We’re gonna have to steal a vehicle. I can’t make it ten miles.”

  “There aren’t any cars to steal,” she reminded him, frustration and fear making her voice high pitched. “They’re parked out front, which is where de Velazquez is.”

  Tony nodded, and she felt like she was leading a confused bear to do what she needed it to do. “Okay, let me sit down for a sec.”

  He plopped down against the wall and leaned back, let his head fall against his chest, and breathed heavily. Grace stared around them, waiting for a group of men to walk around the corner at any moment. She returned to the gate and closed it, noticing a padlock hanging haphazardly from the handle. Grateful it had been open earlier, she put the lock on the gate and snapped it closed, hoping if anyone noti
ced their absence, they would assume they hadn’t been able to get through this area.

  She returned to Tony’s his side and knelt beside him, watching in every direction. “Tony, we have to get moving. We’re gonna get caught.”

  “I know, babe, I know,” he mumbled, holding his head and swinging it gently from side to side.

  Grace watched him, biting her lip. Her apprehension was growing that he was grievously injured. He shook his head and mumbled unintelligibly, and she thought of the movie Cujo and the way the dog had behaved when it first became sick. Chastising herself, she reached for his face, cupping his cheeks in her hands.

  “Tony, I’m going to take a look around the corner over there,” she said, tilting her head to the right. “I think that leads to the front of the house. Maybe there’s a car or something.”

  “I’ll come,” he said, pushing himself up to stand. When he reached his feet, he swayed back against the wall. “Damn.” He looked at her, sorrow on his face. “Grace, I can’t.” He slumped to the ground again and remained there.

  Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry, she ordered herself repeatedly. She thought her strength had been tested before, but now she was in charge of getting them to safety. And she really needed to get Tony to a doctor. She’d never been around someone with a concussion and had no idea how to help him. The one thing she did know was he shouldn’t go to sleep.

  “Tony,” she hissed, shaking him. He lifted his head groggily and looked at her. “Don’t go to sleep. You have a concussion. Stay awake.” He mumbled and nodded, letting his head fall back against the wall rather than forward to his chest. “I’ll be back.”

  She hurried to the far end of the wall, pressed her body against it, and peeked around. Several trucks and jeeps were parked haphazardly in front of the main gate of the compound, and men scurried about like ants looking for breadcrumbs. Several dead men were lying on the ground, but they’d been dragged into a line along the wall. The cartel doesn’t do that, she thought, trying hard to remember the details of the handful of articles she’d read that Trevor had given her. Unless those men are their men, I guess, she continued to rationalize.

  She watched for a few more minutes, hoping the men would go inside the wall. She needed less than a minute to run to the nearest jeep, less than forty yards away, steal it, and drive to Tony to pick him up. Once they had a vehicle, they could get to the airstrip and fly home. Although four of the men did go inside, ten remained on guard near the car. The fight must be over, she assumed, sighing as she turned and hurried back to Tony. She wished she knew what side had won, but either way, she and Tony would be in danger.

  Grace lifted Tony’s arm and looked at his watch. They still had three hours before the plane was supposed to land at the airstrip. They could walk the ten miles or so if Tony wasn’t injured. With a sob of despair, she plopped down next to him, jostling him enough to wake him again.

  “Tony, you have to tell me how to get us out of this,” she cried quietly. “I’m a photographer. I have no idea what to do here.”

  He took her hand and shushed her, lifting her fingers to kiss them gently. “Don’t worry, Grace. We’ll figure it out.” His voice slurred a little, and she laughed humorlessly.

  “You sound drunk,” she accused playfully. Her body was on full alert the next second; someone was in the courtyard and had said their names. She jumped up and grabbed his arm, hauling him to his feet. “Come on!” she grunted. “They’re looking for us.”

  “Go towards the front of the house,” Tony told her.

  “I looked. Too many men. There’s no way I could steal a jeep,” she informed him, holding his gaze as she spoke.

  “Let me look. If we can both get to the jeep, we might be able to pull it off,” Tony said, heading unsteadily to the end of the wall, Grace behind him. He leaned on the wall as he walked. “You’ll have to drive. I’ll point you in the direction you need to go.”

  “You’re staying awake!” she whispered fiercely, squeezing his hand for emphasis.

  “I’ll do my best,” he answered. He leaned against the wall and looked around it. She poked her head out from behind him and saw that nothing had changed. He pressed his back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, then looked at her. “We have to try for a jeep, Grace.”

  “But they’ll see us!” she countered. “You can barely walk straight! You can’t run to the jeep! You’ll fall.”

  He opened his mouth as if to argue, but he couldn’t. He stared at the ground in resignation. “Fuck.”

  “I can try,” she offered, determination in her voice as she straightened her shoulders. “No, no, I can do it. I have to.”

  Tony grabbed her hands. “I hate that I can’t, but you’re right. I’ll get us caught in my current condition.” He cleared his throat. “All you have to do is get to the closest one. Then drive over here and I’ll jump in. They might get a few shots off, but maybe we can get away.”

  Grace began shaking her head as he spoke. “Shit, Tony. They have a million jeeps. They’ll follow us wherever we go! Unless we can disable the others, we’re screwed.”

  He stared at her, his eyes narrowed. He banged his fist on his thigh. “My brain is mush. I should have known that.”

  Grace inhaled deeply and released the air. She peeked again and looked down the barrel of a pistol. “Oh, shit,” she said, gulping. She lifted her hands when the gun gestured for her to step out from behind the wall and moved away from Tony.

  “Grace, wha—” Tony began, but his words were cut off when another man stepped around the wall and pointed a gun at him. He yelled in Spanish, and Tony raised his hands, though he remained against the wall.

  When the man lifted the gun as if to hit him, Grace yelled. “Wait! Stop!” She put herself between the man and Tony, who tried to push her aside. She stood her ground. “He’s injured. I’ll help him.”

  “Get rid of your guns,” one of the men said.

  “I dropped mine forever ago,” Grace told him. She wasn’t even sure when she’d dropped it. Tony handed over the one in the front waistband of his pants, but he didn’t offer the second, which was still stashed at his back.

  “Let’s go,” the same man said, gesturing with the gun. He yelled in Spanish when they stepped into sight, and five more men ran towards them, aiming guns at the pair.

  “Jesus Christ, man,” Tony growled.

  “We’re defenseless, and he’s hurt,” Grace added haughtily. “A little overkill, don’t you think?”

  “We’ve been looking for you,” a man said in perfect English, and both Tony and Grace faced him. His blonde hair was wavy and a little shaggy, and his piercing blue eyes gave him a distinctive Nordic look.

  Confused, Grace said, “Who are you?”

  Smiling, he extended his hand. “Joshua Gaines.”

  Grace shook his hand warily, and Tony simply stared at him without extending his hand. His voice a little surer, he said, “Are you a friend or an enemy?”

  “I am your friend,” Joshua said after laughing quietly. “I’m with the DEA.”

  A breath gushed out of her lungs. “Oh, my God! Thank God! Can you help him? He has a concussion.”

  “We’ll get him to a medic immediately,” Joshua offered. “Let’s get inside so we can explain what’s going on.”

  Tony was taken inside and seen to by a young woman who was also a DEA agent, though her specialty was field medicine. In the same room were several men with various injuries, none life-threatening, though the smell of blood permeated every square inch. Grace, accustomed to triage units such as these from her excursions for work, barely batted an eyelid as she helped Tony from the room to an office where Joshua and his men had set up their work space.

  Joshua looked up when they walked in and smiled. “You are Grace McIntyre, correct?”

  “Yes. How do you know that?”

  “We’ve been listening to chatter about you for days,” a female agent commented as she walked to them. Her gre
en eyes were harder than Grace had expected, as was her demeanor. “Apparently, you’re quite the commodity.”

  “If I get called a commodity one more time, I might lose my shit,” Grace huffed. Tony, who was sitting quietly on the couch, looked as if he might pass out at any moment. “Can I take him somewhere? He needs to lie down.”

  “No,” Tony negated, shaking his head slowly. “I’ll stay. I want to know what the hell is going on.”

  “That’s fair,” Joshua said chummily. “We’ve been working an op on Guapo’s cartel for some time but never had an in. We heard from one of our spies planted inside you were here.” He paused to take a sip from a water bottle, then gestured with it. “You guys want a water?”

  “Yes, please,” Grace said, her voice belying the pleasant words. An agent handed each of them a water, and while she downed hers, Tony only sipped.

  “How do you even know who we are?” Tony asked curiously. Now that the adrenaline in his body was back to a normal level, he seemed better, though not his normal self, which assuaged Grace’s fears tremendously.

  “de Velazquez killed one of ours earlier this year, so we’ve been keeping especially close tabs on him,” Joshua explained. “We learned about your writer friend’s death and that you hadn’t been found.” He looked at Grace and smiled knowingly. “The woman who was with de Velazquez when he visited your cell? She’s one of ours.”

  Grace gasped furiously. “What? That son of a bitch beat the hell out of me, had me tortured, and was going to sell me! And she did nothing!”

  “She couldn’t, Grace,” Tony said, grasping her hand, “or she would have died too.”

  “Fuck that,” Grace growled, shaking her hand away from his. “I could have been raped a dozen times. Murdered. She would have let those things happen to me.”

  “Grace,” Joshua said, his voice calm enough to still trees, “please understand. She was a spy, putting herself in danger to gather information.”