The man’s face staring at him changed. There was now a hint of surprise. King’s right arm inched down along his side as his lungs continued to fight for air. Near the end of consciousness, right on the brink of shutting down, he conjured every last ounce of life he had left and reached up for the man’s groin.
Then he squeezed.
At first there was no change. In King’s state of near death, for a moment he thought maybe his mind was playing tricks on him and he’d grabbed the wrong part of the man’s body. But as he gave the last of himself to continue the squeeze, there was finally the first sign of movement from the man’s forearm.
And the first sign of air.
King inhaled as though he’d been underwater for minutes too long. The oxygen breathed life into his blood, and his blood pumped energy into his muscles. King righted his grip on the man’s groin, and more air came his way. The man was forced to lift his arm from King’s throat, and when he did, King bucked his hips toward the sky and pushed with the arm still attached to the man’s most sensitive area.
King managed to gain top position, and as the man reached down to free his groin from the excruciating pain, King came over the top with an elbow that landed so hard to the man’s forehead that the back of his skull bounced off the pavement below. His eyes rolled back in his head, but King, unrelenting himself now, threw another elbow, landing in the same place. This one woke the man back up. Unbelievably, the man was able to get his arms up to his face to block the third elbow, but that didn’t stop King from throwing a fourth, then a fifth. When neither of those landed, King began blasting his fists into the ribs of the man. When that forced one of his arms to move downward to block those punches, King came over the top once more and landed a hooking right hand to the man’s face, his cheekbone splitting open on contact.
The man had no choice but to flip over onto his stomach to keep from taking more damage. This was every fighter’s instinct at the end. It was also the worst thing the man could have done. King forced his arm across the neck of the man below him; then he locked a choke in tight by hooking it with his other arm. When the man felt the power of King’s squeeze wrapping around him like a boa constrictor, he rolled back over. This allowed King to cinch the choke by wrapping his legs around the man’s hips, thus giving King control of the man’s body.
It was over.
The man would never survive King’s grip. He desperately rolled a couple of times, flailed about with desperate punches, but it didn’t matter; King just rolled with him. King ended up on his back, squeezing the life out of the man who’d almost killed him, and that’s when he looked up and saw the back door of the car he’d stolen pop open. Brittany emerged from the car and looked around until she found the two of them on the ground. King watched as her face morphed from scared to confused. She took a step toward King.
“Get back in the car!” King shouted as he gave all his might to ending the man’s life in his grasp.
Instead, Brittany squinted her eyes as if she were trying to determine who King held in his arms. Her face changed once more, this time to shock.
“Mister—Mister Raines?”
King looked down at the top of the man’s head he was holding. Then back to Brittany. “Get back in the car!”
She took another step forward. “Lawson Raines? What—what are you doing here? Let him go!”
Now it was King who was shocked. “You know him?”
“Yes!” she screamed. “Let him go!”
King released his hold on the man Brittany called Lawson Raines. The man sucked in air as he sat up. Before King could shout to Brittany—who’d just begun walking toward the two of them—to stay back, a mist of red exploded from the side of her head. Her body collapsed to the ground.
Brittany had been shot.
The senator’s daughter was dead.
Chapter Thirteen
“NO! Brittany!”
Lawson Raines shouted as he jumped to his feet.
“Stay down!” King shouted at his back.
But he didn’t. The big man was moving quickly across the parking lot. King rose and hit a dead sprint in just two steps. He dove at Lawson’s back and tackled him to the ground. The second shot from the sniper rifle crashed through the windshield of the car beside him, which was now providing them cover. Lawson glanced up at the shattered window and realized that would have been his head.
“This is about to get worse,” King said. “We have to go!”
“I’m not leaving her!”
King scanned the parking lot. He noticed Lawson’s pistol lying on the ground a few feet from him. They were on the ground about four parking spaces over from the car Lawson had rammed King’s car with. King looked back over at Lawson.
“I’m not leaving here without her body,” Lawson said.
King could see in his eyes there was no talking him out of it. Clearly Lawson knew Brittany personally, so King understood. Before King could respond, two sets of screeching tires filled the quiet around them.
“Get her. Get to the car. And be ready to drive,” King said.
Lawson gave him a nod.
“Go now!”
As the words left King’s mouth, he sprang to his left, dove across the asphalt, taking Lawson’s Sig Sauer in his hand. He rolled onto his back and began firing the moment he saw the first of the gunmen aiming at him from the cars at the parking lot’s entrance. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Lawson move toward the fallen girl. He put three bullets in the man aiming at him from the driver’s side, then rolled to his feet as he fired three more times at the passenger side. As the men from the second car began to shoot, King dove behind a truck on the row opposite Lawson’s vehicle. This would make it harder for him to make it to the car, but averting the gunman’s attention to himself would give Lawson time to get Brittany and be ready to drive.
He popped up to his feet and fired straight through the van’s windows in the direction of the two remaining gunmen. His objective with the shots was distraction, not actually hitting the men. He was also concerned about the sniper. He heard the report of one more shot, but it didn’t hit him, and Lawson was already putting Brittany in the backseat of the car. King wasn’t sure, but the line of sight for the sniper to Lawson’s car looked to be obstructed by a van. King could only hope this was the case.
King popped back up and shot the man at the passenger door with his last three rounds. He glanced to Lawson as the magazine clicked empty. Lawson had just entered the car without signal. It occurred to King there was a good chance this Lawson Raines could just leave him there. After all, the two of them did just try to kill each other. King ducked as soon as the magazine was empty, and return fire came from the last remaining gunman. Just as he ducked, a hole bored into the fiberglass of the truck he was taking cover behind, right where he had been standing.
The sniper had turned the weapon on King.
Gunshots were pelting the other side of the truck from the man’s semiautomatic rifle at the car. The sniper rifle was trained on King from somewhere in the opposite direction. And there he was without a weapon. There was only open parking lot between him and Lawson in the car. No way he would make it there without getting hit by someone’s bullet. He leaned out quickly to peek around the rear bumper. Lawson’s car hadn’t moved. As soon as he drew back, another sniper round careened off the truck. He reached up and tried the door, but it was locked. Same with the small sedan behind him. He was stuck.
Across the parking lot King heard an engine rev, then tires squealing across pavement. King dropped to his stomach to get a look without being open to the sniper’s shot, and he watched as the bottom of Lawson’s car was moving in reverse. He was leaving him. King was going to have to find a way out of there by himself.
Then Lawson’s car did a 180-degree turn while still in reverse. It was now moving fast toward the front end of the car where a gunman was last shooting. Smoke was rolling from the pavement beneath it. Lawson wasn’t leaving; he was takin
g away one of King’s obstacles.
King tucked the Sig Sauer in the back of his belt line and moved to the edge of the front of the truck. The gunman moved his weapon toward Lawson’s car right upon impact. The back end of the Audi sedan Lawson was driving slammed into the gunman’s car before he could move, and the open door knocked him backward. King stayed in a crouch and ran behind the row of cars between himself and Lawson. That side of the cars also offered cover from the sniper. Just as King rounded the final vehicle, Lawson’s car shifted direction and surged forward. The thought that he was leaving once again entered King’s mind, but it didn’t stay there for long because he watched Lawson’s trunk pop open.
As he watched Lawson pull forward, his go bag came to mind. A lot computed at once. Brittany dying would most likely be blamed on him, so the hunt from the United States would only get more intense. From the looks of the men who’d just attacked them from the cars, Raúl Ortega was also trying to run him down. He assumed Brittany also somehow that had something to do with that. Then there was the sniper. Who the hell was he, and even more disturbing, who the hell was he working for? Couldn’t be the US—Brittany wouldn’t have been the target. And he ruled out Ortega and his cartel because a sniper didn’t fit the mold. That meant there were at least three different factions King knew of that were hunting him. So leaving without the go bag was just not an option.
King bolted out from behind the parked cars and sprinted for his stolen car. He signaled Lawson by pointing to the road just beyond the parking lot, but he had no idea if Lawson had seen him. King could almost feel the sights on the sniper rifle honing in on him. It gave him a little extra push in his legs as he pumped his arms running. Before he felt the sting of a bullet or saw the darkness of death, King dove forward behind the side of his car. He tore open the wrecked door, slithered inside, scooped up the Glock on the floorboard, gathered up the bag and pushed across the center console to the passenger seat on his stomach. A bullet crashed through the back windshield and thumped into the dashboard right beside him. He stayed low as he peeked out the window. Lawson’s tires squealed as he jerked the car to the left and exited the parking lot.
He had seen King’s signal.
King threw the bag onto his back. Another round penetrated the side of the car. The shooter was getting desperate. King pushed the door open and bolted out into the parking lot. He jumped, slid across the hood of a sedan on his ass, and hit the ground running on the other side. Gunshots peppered at his back. It must have been the man from the car Lawson had slammed into. King had no choice but to push forward.
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Lawson’s car coming. He kicked into another gear as he ran beside a vehicle in the last row of the parking lot. Another sniper round hit the hood of the car nearest King, just beside his head. Then he was out in the middle of the street. He dodged a moving car in the first lane as Lawson’s car moved past him, slowing just enough at King’s approach. King put everything he had into his dive, which sent him crashing into the back of the empty trunk. He braced himself as the car accelerated. He rolled over to grab the trunk to pull it shut but before he could, he saw two more cars speeding toward him.
The fight wasn’t over. As he slammed the trunk down, plunging himself into darkness, he understood the fight was only just beginning. But at least he was alive to have a fighting chance.
Chapter Fourteen
Sam stood tapping her foot anxiously as she stared out Director Lucas’s office window. The landscape in front of her was a patch of trees that led to the Potomac River. Despite the view, the only thing she actually saw was Alexander King in trouble—and no way for her to help him. It wasn’t something she was used to, and frankly, it wasn’t something she was going to stand for. She’d weighed the options in front of her: stay under Director Lucas’s thumb and face no recourse or punishment while King was fighting for his life, or find a way out of Langley and possibly face years in prison, while possibly helping her best friend and partner survive.
It didn’t take a lot of thought. Sam walked over to the director’s desk and gave it a once-over. She didn’t see a phone she could take with her. Instead, she found something better: a set of car keys. She was about to commit treason in the eyes of the CIA, so a little grand theft auto seemed a small pine on a mountain of trees. She turned back toward the door where the two agents were outside standing guard. She went over, opened the door, and walked out like they weren’t even there.
“Ma’am?” one of the guards called out to her.
She just kept walking.
He called a little more forceful this time. “Ma’am, you can’t leave here.”
She turned to face them as they were stalking toward her. “Am I under arrest?”
The two men stopped, looked at each other, then back to her. The large one on the right said, “No ma’am, but we’re just following orders. You know how it is.”
Before she could protest, she heard screaming coming from the direction of the break room down the hall where she’d left the senator and Director Lucas a while ago. The two agents rushed past her. This was her chance to make her exit without being questioned, but curiosity got the better of her. She was afraid it had to do with Xander, so she couldn’t leave without a look.
Sam jogged toward the break room and glanced around the doorway. First her eyes were drawn to the senator who was on his knees, his face buried in his hands, wailing as he sobbed uncontrollably. Sam looked up to what everyone else in the room was focused on—the television. It was immediately clear why the senator was so upset. He had just witnessed his daughter being murdered on national TV.
Sam tuned her ears to what the broadcaster was saying:
We are sorry for the violent nature of the video clip you are watching. It was sent to us just moments ago. This . . . this is Senator Terry McKinley’s daughter, being shot in the streets of Mexico City sometime this afternoon. We’ll get you more information as soon as we have it.
Sam watched as a large man dragged the girl’s body over to a car. The video was taken from a high vantage point with what looked to be a great deal of zoom. The face of the man who was dragging the senator’s daughter was hidden by her lifeless body. But Sam could tell by the size of him that it definitely was not Alexander King.
Her stomach dropped.
Where was Xander?
The news anchor continued:
The identity of the man who killed her and dragged her body away has yet to be authenticated, but one must assume it was her alleged kidnapper, former Navy SEAL, Alexander King.
Sam couldn’t believe her ears. Someone, somewhere was pointing all of this toward King. They were orchestrating an entire mission of lies against him, mounting visual evidence as they went. Sam could no longer sit idle. They were attacking Xander, and she wasn’t going to sit around and wait to see if he could get out of it himself. Some unknown enemy was tipping the scales in their own favor, making King look like a monster. Sam was about to put some weight back on his side of the scale.
While everyone in the building seemed distracted, Sam moved for the elevator. She made it down to the lobby without being seen. She then hurried outside to find Director Lucas’s vehicle. She pulled his keys from her pocket and began hitting the lock button. She just followed the beep each time she would hit the button until she found his black Chevy Tahoe. She climbed in and started down the private road. Her last obstacle was the gate, complete with armed guards.
Sam did a quick search, but there was no phone. Her mind was racing. She had no idea who the man was who had lugged Brittany McKinley’s body across that parking lot, but worse than that, she had no idea if he’d already killed Alexander King. The gate came into view. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Director Lucas found she was missing, subsequently that his car was as well. She also knew his truck had tracking, so she wouldn’t get far in it, but she really only needed to make it far enough to find another vehicle.
Luckily, the gate guard wave
d her through. There hadn’t been enough time for anyone to relay down to the gate to stop her from leaving. The commotion in the break room had been large enough to give her room to breathe. But it wouldn’t last long. She needed a new car, a new phone, and some information on what the hell was really going on in Mexico City.
Chapter Fifteen
As the car jerked back and forth, King fumbled for the pulley to push in the backseat from the trunk, but there wasn’t one. Instead, his hand finally found a plastic button on the cloth back. When he pressed it, he was able to fold the chair inward. He crawled through to angry shouts from the driver’s seat.
“You killed her! It’s your fault she’s dead!” Lawson shouted as he swerved right onto a different street.
King pushed through and was then thrown into the floor as he tried to avoid touching Brittany’s body that was lying in the backseat.
“Don’t come up here. I’ll kill you while I’m driving.”
King pulled himself to a seated position on the floorboard. “Bullshit. Drop the outrage. You would never have opened the trunk for me if you thought I was responsible.”
“Who the hell are these guys chasing us?” Lawson changed the subject.
“Raúl Ortega’s men.”
“Who?”
That told King all he needed to know about whether this man was CIA or not. He would know the name if he was.
“Cartel,” King said. “Who the hell are you?”
King crawled across the console to the front seat. Along the way, his go bag brushed Lawson, and Lawson shoved him against the passenger door.
“Keep pushing me and the two cars full of gunmen behind us will be the least of your worries.”
“Oh, you mean like back in the parking lot when I whipped your ass?” Lawson said, swerving once again.
Alexander King Thriller Series: Books 1-3 Page 50