Striking Blow: Book Two of the Strike Zone Series

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Striking Blow: Book Two of the Strike Zone Series Page 17

by Louise Dawn


  Shelly clutched the banister. “I’m not a friend. I’m her mother, and if you hurt my family, I’ll claw your eyes out.”

  “Brave talk from a woman about to die.” Bronco nodded at his men, and they moved so fast that Pearl barely had time to react. Her first swing landed on the target and the masked attacker staggered under a shoulder blow.

  Jamming forward, she drove the nose of the bat into the second assailant’s chest, but he deflected the blow, wrenching away her weapon. Sidestepping, he took off up the stairs, after Shelly. Bronco grabbed Pearl’s wrist as she kicked at his massive thigh. She screamed, and a gloved hand covered her mouth as she tried to wrestle from his brutal grasp.

  “You’re a wild one.”

  Pearl struck out with an elbow. His hand shifted, and she bit down on his finger.

  “Damn bitch!” Bronco twisted, shoving her against the wall. Her head bounced from the impact. Grabbing the back of her neck, he smashed her against the hard surface and held her in place. “Get the kid!”

  Feeling pinned like a butterfly, Pearl flailed in his merciless hold. His fingers dug into her soft flesh, causing her to whimper. She wouldn’t give up, and when she heard his team member heading up the stairs, she fought with everything she had.

  A punch to her side had her gasping for air. His second blow had her collapsing. Crouching, Bronco wrapped a meaty arm around her throat. His breath whispered across her temple.

  “I can see why Snax wants you so badly.”

  Struggling, Pearl glanced towards the stairs and whispered her daughter’s name.

  “Don’t worry. We’re well trained. A little anesthesia, and she’ll have a good sleep.”

  Shelly screamed from above, followed by heavy thuds. Tears fell as Pearl clawed at Bronco’s forearm, struggling for air.

  When his grip suddenly relaxed, she fell to the side. He swung away, and through blurring vision, she saw him stagger back as a foot connected with his broad chest. An animalistic roar echoed through the condo. Pearl rolled to her knees, panting for air.

  Her flatscreen TV fell with a crash, and she looked up just as Antonio flipped Bronco over a shoulder and onto the coffee table. Wood splintered and she scooted away.

  “What are you doing?” Antonio screamed at his friend. “What are you fucking doing?”

  Bronco groaned and rolled to his side. Grabbing his shirt, Antonio slammed his fisted gun into Bronco’s face.

  “Aysha. Save her…”

  Dropping the prone man, Antonio rushed to Pearl’s side. “Are you okay?”

  “More men… upstairs. Help Aysha.”

  “Get to my car.” He shoved his keys in her hand, but she raced for Aysha instead.

  The empty fridge had bothered Antonio and he’d decided to do some shopping. But he’d forgotten his damn wallet and had to turn back. Antonio had spotted the first mercenary guard as he’d approached the condo parking lot. The guy was well hidden. Instead of pulling into the parking space, Antonio had driven a short ways down the block and approached on foot.

  Two more were posted around the condo. The men looked well trained, and Antonio’s heart pounded as he took them down silently. He chose non-deadly force. Upping the body count in a suburban neighborhood while off duty wasn’t a wise course of action, but if any of the mercenary bastards were a direct threat to Pearl or Aysha, he’d shoot them in the damn head.

  Rajin had mounted a mercenary army from across the globe—Antonio’s worst nightmare had come true, and he’d acted too complacently. He should’ve listened to his paranoia and moved Pearl sooner. Antonio should’ve ignored the lack of evidence. Now they paid the price.

  A front door breach would attract attention. Even though Antonio had keys, he needed to take this mercenary team by surprise. Not knowing how many bogies lurked inside, he slid around to the back. The door sat open, and another cloaked figure stood in the shadows on the patio.

  Sneaking up on the bastard wasn’t an option. Antonio launched himself and slammed into the target. As they fell onto the concrete, he rolled back up and followed with a kick to the man’s jaw. He wouldn’t be getting up any time soon, and Antonio grabbed the prone mercenary’s gun and tossed it into the bushes.

  The kitchen sat dark, and Antonio slid through the familiar space, listening and feeling for bogies. A crashing noise in the living room had him slipping quickly up the passage. Voices drifted.

  “I can see why Snax wants you so badly.”

  Shock slammed in, and Antonio reached for a wall. For a second, he couldn’t breathe—couldn’t think.

  “Aysha…” Pearl rasped.

  “Don’t worry. We’re well trained. A little anesthesia, and she’ll have a good sleep.”

  A scream from above and Pearl’s choked whimper had Antonio surging forward in a haze of fury. Betrayal and fear clawed through his shocked stupor as he lunged for a friend turned enemy.

  Antonio went for the asshole’s head, snatching it into his own chokehold. As predicted, Bronco released his hostage and morphed into defensive mode. Ducking out of Antonio’s hold, he rose to his feet, and Antonio slammed a foot into his solar plexus.

  Bronco wouldn’t go down without a brutal dogfight, and Antonio worked to hold an offensive position. Rushing the older man, Antonio flipped him onto the table before pistol-whipping him swiftly in the temple.

  “Aysha. Save her…”

  Praying that Pearl wasn’t too badly injured, Antonio swung to the terrified woman. He couldn’t spot any blood or apparent injuries, but she held her side as she tried to stand. Grabbing her waist, Antonio held her to his side.

  “Are you okay?”

  “More men… upstairs. Help Aysha.” Pearl fought to escape his grip.

  “Get to my car.”

  Refusing, she ran for the stairs. Launching himself over the banister, Antonio met his first opponent halfway. The guy pointed a gun, and Antonio continued his momentum, using the wall as a launchpad. His foot hit a masked head, which bounced off the opposite wall. Landing smoothly, Antonio leaped over his enemy and raced for Aysha’s room. A gunshot echoed, and he shouted her name. Pearl’s scream from behind indicated that she’d followed at a frantic pace.

  Shoving into the small space, Antonio aimed his Glock at the combatant holding a weapon on a fallen woman. Shelly lay against the wall, and blood poured from a shoulder wound. Aysha lay still and vulnerable in her bed as a mercenary pulled the needle from her tiny arm.

  Antonio reacted and fired two shots in quick succession. One bullet hit the bastard in the face, who’d shot Shelly; the other hit the anesthetic fucker in the throat. He fell, still clutching the injection in his gloved hand.

  “Oh, my God!” Pearl cried out, stumbling for little Aysha as Antonio dropped his weapon hand. He felt like he’d run a marathon, and they’d just begun this race for survival.

  “Mom! Mommy…” Picking up her daughter, who still held Shreddy to her sleeping chest, Pearl collapsed by Shelly’s side. “Help them! Call 911.”

  “I did that when I first arrived.” Antonio rushed to the spare bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels. “But we have to go.” Wrapping the towel around Shelly’s shoulder, he used his tie to secure it firmly in place. The older lady stared up at him in shock, and he stroked her head. “How’s Aysha’s breathing?”

  Pearl clutched her daughter to her chest. “We need to get to a hospital.”

  “We can’t. This is a hit team, and there may be more men coming for us. You’re not safe.”

  “Aysha—”

  “We’ll find medical assistance, but we have to leave.”

  “My mom.” Pearl turned in a circle in an obvious state of panic.

  One of the men moaned, and Antonio swore. “Shelly is not the target, and I can’t walk her out of here in her condition. Once we leave, they won’t hang around.”

  “That’s not a guarantee.”

  “Go.” Shelly offered a weak smile as Antonio physically pushed Pearl to the side. “He’s right. Di
sappear. Now.”

  Antonio grabbed the nearest man’s Sig Sauer and placed it in Shelly’s hand. “Wait for the police. They should be here any second. If anyone else comes through that door, shoot ‘em. Can you stay awake?”

  “Yes,” Shelly whispered.

  Next, Antonio grabbed the injection vial from the floor and slipped it in his pocket.

  Now, frantic, Pearl clutched at Aysha and tried to reach for Shelly. “I can’t leave her.”

  Movement at the door had Antonio swinging. The target from the stairs slid inside, and Antonio pulled the trigger, driving bullets into a tactical vest. As he fell, Antonio pulled Pearl by the arm towards the door.

  “We’re outnumbered. Exfil now!” He paused to pistol whip the gasping man.

  When Pearl stumbled under the weight of her limp child, he grabbed her elbow. “Concentrate on Aysha and listen to my commands. Got it?” He used a firm tone to break through her shock.

  With a slow blink, she nodded. “My go-bag. It’s in the passage closet.”

  As they passed, Antonio pulled open the closet and grabbed the satchel.

  Covering Pearl, he guided them down the stairs. Where was the damn police? A now conscious Bronco used the broken coffee table as support.

  “Don’t twitch. You hear me?” Antonio barked the order. “One wrong move, and I’ll shatter your Judas brain.”

  “Then do it.” Bronco spat a wad of blood and grinned like a rabid dog as he raised his hands. “Shoot me. That’s the only way you’ll stop me. I’m gonna keep coming.”

  Antonio focused on the room, looking for an ambush, and ignored his burning rage.

  “What, you still can’t shoot an unarmed man?”

  They neared the front door, and Antonio pulled Pearl behind him, forcing out angry words. “I thought you were on the same side.”

  “I was never an order-taker like you. Why did you get involved the Bandara mess?”

  An unarmed mercenary appeared from the dark passage, his hands held loosely by his sides. Blood on his neck indicated facial injuries, and Antonio pegged him as the patio bastard.

  Antonio pulled open the front door and quickly glanced at the lot. “Out, now. I’ve got you.”

  Pearl cautiously slipped out, and Antonio tensed as she stepped into the open.

  “Follow us, and I’ll kill you.”

  “Snax, my man….”

  “I’ve called the police, so you don’t have much time.” Sirens in the distance had Antonio internally cheering. “I’m sure the neighbors have heard the gunshots.”

  “You’re not gonna wait?” Bronco got to his feet. “Worried that we’d track you to the hospital?

  Clever man.

  “You can’t hide. We have multiple teams in Virginia, and you’re fucked.”

  Time to go. Antonio grabbed Pearl and rushed her along the path. Her limping run indicated injuries, but she held tightly onto Aysha and kept up. A resident opened a door, and Antonio yelled for them to stay inside. Bronco wouldn’t be stupid enough to chase them.

  Thanks to SF training, he’d know better. A car chase and late-night shootout in traffic would draw too much attention. The enemy’s surprise advantage was lost, and as professionals, the assholes would retreat before getting caught.

  Rushing Pearl to the vehicle took too much time, and Antonio bundled her and Aysha into the back seat. He unlocked and handed her his phone.

  “Call Everett. Ask for a medical team and a safe destination. We’ll first need to swap cars, as Bronco might be tracking this vehicle. I regularly check, but there may be something I’ve missed.” Voice tight, Antonio shoved the car into gear and sped into a quiet neighborhood. Pushing aside his frantic fear over an unconscious Aysha, he concentrated on evasive driving techniques.

  As soon as Everett answered, Pearl communicated their situation. Antonio knew that she had to be shaking apart inside. The terror for her daughter and mother would be overwhelming, yet Pearl managed bravely, answering Everett’s questions and taking down GPS coordinates. Once she’d hung up, Antonio planned the trip for their set destination—a temporary safe house where they could get Aysha seen by a doctor.

  The shaken woman in the rearview mirror had him swallowing hard. “How’s her breathing? Pulse?”

  “Still steady and strong. But she’s too pale.” After placing Shreddy aside, Pearl stroked Aysha’s forehead in her lap.

  “Shit, I hope the bastards knew what they were doing—that they got the dosage right.”

  Pearl squeezed her eyes shut and rocked her child. “Rajin might hate me… but he wouldn’t harm Aysha. He loves her. I pray that his men were careful.”

  “I’m calling my brother, then I’m getting rid of this phone.”

  As expected, Leo went into spook mode, interrogating Antonio for details.

  “I need updates on Pearl’s mother. She was shot and badly injured. Leo, if you wanna help, you’ll be working with a private team. I’ll send the contact’s details.” Before his brother could reply, Antonio hung up and forwarded Everett’s number. Then he tossed the phone. After circling and looking for a tail, he headed for the first location. They drove in stunned silence.

  “You… you came back. Why so quickly?” Pearl asked.

  “I left my wallet behind—a stroke of luck. I wanted to buy groceries.”

  “And you… you took down all those men,” she stated with a trembling voice.

  “I had no choice. I couldn’t let them hurt you or Aysha. I’d fight an army.”

  “Are you hurt anywhere?”

  “No. But you’re limping. What happened?”

  “I’m just bruised.”

  “Did they hit you?”

  “Your friend punched me a few times.”

  Antonio swore. “He’s not my damn friend. I will kill him.” Bile rose along with red-hot rage.

  “I’m sorry—that he—”

  “Betrayed me? Our country? Everything he should’ve stood for? He’s become a killer for hire.” Unable to wrap his head around the deception, Antonio slammed his hand against the wheel and tried to focus on getting them help. “He’s a piece of filth who’s hurt Aysha and your mother.”

  This was all Antonio’s fault. He’d trusted the wrong man who’d waltzed back into his life at precisely the right time. And the guy was a lethally trained weapon. Next time, Antonio may not be as lucky. What did Antonio know about the man behind the mask?

  “My mom…” Pearl’s chin shook. “My mom fought like a lioness to protect her grandchild. What if she dies?”

  There was nothing that Antonio could say that would comfort Pearl. And his driving need to get Aysha medical assistance kept his eyes on the road. Pearl sang softly in her daughter’s ear with a trembling voice—a comforting lullaby that sounded vaguely familiar.

  Gritting his teeth, Antonio vowed to put an end to Rajin and his band of mercenaries. Knowing now that this would be the biggest fight of his life, he mentally prepared himself. The battlefield was familiar territory, and he’d use every resource available to keep Pearl and Aysha from harm.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Cyrus “Bronco” Nelson steered the black van around a sharp curve. Blood dripped down his cheek, and he swiped impatiently before glancing at the defeated men in the back.

  “Remind me why I hired you? Pieces of shit!”

  “If that agent hadn’t turned up, we would’ve had them.”

  “Yeah? One man against five, and he’s rearranged your body parts.” Glancing at a side mirror, Cyrus turned on to a quieter side road. They’d only just slipped past first responders, and he cursed a blue streak. Snax hadn’t pulled the trigger and ended his friend’s life. A big mistake. Agent Torres’s noble heart would get the man killed.

  Would Cyrus do the killing? He hadn’t planned on eliminating his loyal friend. Snax had saved his life more than once in the field. That’s why Cyrus had decided to quietly take the woman and child without the agent in the mix.

  The damn bastard had
shown up at precisely the wrong time. And now he knew what Cyrus—Bronco—was capable of. The well-adjusted agent now saw Cyrus as an enemy. Puffing out an angry breath, he shoved his foot on the gas. Perhaps it was for the best—burning up a past that was all a pretense. Trying to be a good leader to a fine group of men.

  Embracing his darkness wasn’t the end—stars loved a black sky. His heavy soul was ready for the hunt, and he wouldn’t drag along the past.

  “They’re on the run, which will make them harder to track. Call Harland and use his team to hack CCTV cameras in the vicinity.”

  When Cyrus received an affirmation from the back, he refocused on the road. The reason why Harland had such an excellent reputation all came down to powerful connections. Dirty politicians turned to the tycoon for all sorts of favors—mostly entailing the elimination of witnesses or victims. Harland had earned the nickname “Bloodhound” through his excellent tracking abilities.

  As if he’d conjured the wily bastard, the phone rang. Answering quickly, Bronco ignored his throbbing head.

  “Cyrus, you won’t believe this.” Harland sounded out of breath. “I thought I’d check that GPS tracker again. The one in that kid’s stuffed toy. It’s working—not consistently, but we got a brief hit.”

  Bronco smiled. The hunt was the best part about working for Harland. First blood had been shed, and the trail was hot.

  A rainstorm had set in, and the chilled air had Pearl adjusting the blanket around her daughter’s chest. She knelt beside Antonio as he sat on a rickety chair, cradling her tiny child. Everett’s armed guards surrounded them as a doctor set up an IV. The empty warehouse offered little comfort, and the warmest place for Aysha was Antonio’s chest.

  Her sweet kid had begun to stir, and her tiny hand clutched at his fingers. Antonio’s stern expression echoed Pearl’s distress, and she pulled in a steady breath, knowing that she’d break apart any minute. They’d touched Aysha—injected a foreign substance into her child’s veins. Tears streamed down Pearl’s cheeks as she stroked Aysha’s tiny wrist.

 

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