Thunder Storm

by Matt Lincoln

  Holm slipped past Alejandra and me, finding his way to the bar. I saw him start to talk to Sanchez against the bar, but I had more immediate concerns.

  “Do you want to dance?” I flashed Alejandra my best smile, and to my surprise, she returned it.

  “Please don’t step on my toes?” she pleaded as she took my hands and let me spin her out onto the floor. I pulled her close and swayed to the rhythm, watching her face as she cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

  “You know, I actually can dance,” I confessed as I pulled her close. “I just never learned how to dance your way.”

  Alejandra laughed warmly. “Well, with a few more lessons, I can get those hips moving,” she promised.

  “Just a few?” I teased as I spun her in a circle and pulled her back in. She was just as fluid now as she was the other night, and I had a feeling she’d be a gorgeous dancer no matter what kind of music was playing.

  Alejandra let herself be pulled in close to me, and she looked up at me seductively through her eyelashes. I locked my eyes onto hers, and we swayed together until--

  “Marston!”

  I groaned inwardly. I probably groaned outwardly, too. I looked up to see Holm cutting through the crowd toward me.

  “This better be good,” I warned.

  “Yeah, it is,” he mumbled. “You need to hear Sanchez’s story about the Dominican Republic.”

  I looked up at him sternly. “That couldn’t have waited five minutes, huh?” In front of me, Alejandra was giggling against my chest.

  “Nope,” he replied lightheartedly. I knew he had realized what he had interrupted, but he also wouldn’t apologize. We were here on a case, not to simply socialize.

  I looked down at Alejandra apologetically. “Excuse me,” I mumbled, slipping out from within her arms and following Holm over to where Sanchez was at the bar.

  “Hey, Marston!” Sanchez greeted me cheerfully as I approached. “How’s it going?”

  I didn’t want Alejandra’s name brought up at this particular moment, so I opted to shy away from small talk.

  “Hey,” I replied smoothly, “I heard you have a story about the Dominican Republic.”

  “Oh, yeah!” Sanchez was now beaming from ear to ear, and I had a feeling that this was going to be a long story.

  I checked my watch when Sanchez finished his story. It had felt like it was an hour long, but in reality, it only took about twenty minutes.

  “Sanchez!” Linda came over and grabbed Sanchez by the arm, pulling him onto the dance floor.

  “I can tell you the rest later!” he called out, although I wasn’t sure he’d get around to it. Not tonight, anyway.

  “So, what do you think?” Holm asked, gauging my impression.

  I let out a sigh. “It sounds like the history between the Dominicans and the Haitians isn’t exactly a smooth one.”

  “Right,” Holm nodded. “But more than that--”

  Sharp cracks rang through the bar, and suddenly the crowd began to scream. Holm grabbed my forearm and yanked downward to pull us out of sight, but all I could think about was Alejandra alone on the dance floor. I shook Holm off and scrambled forward, staying low and hopefully out of sight.

  More cracks whizzed through the air, and the dance floor emptied. I was now on the bare patch of floor where our almost-kiss happened, but Alejandra was nowhere in sight. Not that I expected her to stay put while I listened to a story for twenty minutes, but it was the only place I knew to look.

  “Ethan!” I heard a woman cry from behind me. I whirled around to see Alejandra cowering on the floor behind a fallen bar stool. I scrambled over to her and crawled back toward the bar where I knew there would be cover for us both. Until we got there, though, I was her cover, risking only myself.

  “Ethan, what’s happening?” she shrieked as she cowered against my shoulder, and suddenly another crack sounded. This one was swiftly followed by a searing pain in my side, and I uttered a series of curse words as my bright-colored shirt began to feel wet and warm. I felt the sensation grow across my side as I forced us both to keep moving.

  This would probably be the last time I’d ever wear a shirt this bright.

  I managed to get Alejandra safely behind the bar, but her eyes were frightened as she turned and noticed my injury. “Stay here and stay safe,” I warned her. As I turned to inch away, her hand clamped down onto my forearm.

  “Where are you going?” she squealed, her face swimming with terror.

  “To catch the bad guys,” I replied calmly, but she did not seem to appreciate my answer. I managed to slip away, and when I found Holm, he was already making his way to the stairs that led to the entrance.

  “There’s a building across the way that they’re using,” he informed me as we scrambled down the steps. Holm stopped at the bottom of the stairs and peered up. If they hadn’t seen the two of us sneak out, we’d most likely be safe. We couldn’t risk it, though.

  “What’s the play?” I took a small step back so that I could easily meet Holm’s gaze. His eyes were sharp, and he was ready to go. “I assume you have one.”

  Holm looked back at me blankly, and I realized he was making this up as he went along.

  “Okay,” I muttered, quickly trying to assess the situation so that I could come up with a plan. “If we run out here, we’re exposed. Unless they’re not looking for us.”

  “What do you mean?” Holm asked.

  I looked behind me. The oversized bouncer that had been eyeballing everyone as they entered the bar was plastered against the cement wall at the base of the stairs, his eyes wide with fear. I looked down at his chest and noted his black button-down shirt layered over a t-shirt.

  “Give him your shirt,” I demanded, flashing my badge. I jerked my head toward Holm, who had a slightly puzzled look on his face.

  The bouncer stared at my badge for a moment, and without questioning it, he unbuttoned and shrugged off his shirt, revealing a plain black t-shirt beneath it. The man handed it to Holm, who was beginning to understand my play.

  “Put it on,” I instructed as I shrugged off my own bright shirt, unsticking it from my side. Certain movements caused me to wince in pain, but I powered through it.

  “What the hell, Marston?” Holm snapped, noticing the blood for the first time. “Get to safety! I’ll handle this.”

  “We all know I’m the better shot,” I teased, smirking through the pain.

  “Marston, you’re going to get yourself killed,” he muttered, but he didn’t argue further. He knew it’d be fruitless, and we didn’t have the time to argue.

  Shots were still being fired into the patio. I did notice that whoever this was, they weren’t firing rapidly. They weren’t looking to shoot at random. They were looking for someone, or several people, in particular. The searing pain in my side led me to believe that I was on their list.

  I pulled my pistol out of my holster and eased along the far wall, holding it steady between my hands. Once the building across the way came into view, I scanned it quickly.

  “Third floor,” I muttered. I raised my arms, placed the shooter in my sights, and pressed the pad of my finger against the trigger.

  The crack echoed sharply up the staircase, and my ears began to ring. The shot had chipped at the window frame but missed its mark, although, with the shooter cowering, we now had our chance to run.

  “Come on, Holm!” I shouted, but I couldn’t hear my own voice above the ringing. I looked over as I ran to find him right behind me, his own pistol nestled firmly in his grasp.

  As we reached the base of the building, our shooter recovered, aiming his sights down at us.

  “Well, we lost the element of surprise,” I mumbled, breaking through the front door and searching for the nearest set of stairs.

  “Here!” Holm shouted, his voice muffled as my ears began to recover. I quickly ran up behind him, checking our six to be sure we weren’t followed. I nearly ran right smack into him halfway up, though, when he suddenly stoppe
d short. I peered over his shoulder to find myself staring down the barrel of an AR-15. My heart sank.

  Holm and I immediately raised our pistols as we looked past the sleek black barrel to see the man behind it. He was lean and sinewy, with faded tattoos decorating the length of his tanned arms. His eyes were dark and fathomless, and he glared down at us with a venomous sneer.

  The staredown lasted only a few seconds, but it felt like minutes.

  “Okay, I feel like we should talk,” Holm announced lightheartedly. A quick glance at his shoulders told me he wasn’t treating this situation anywhere near as casually as his voice implied.

  I heard a thud overhead, followed by a series of scrapes and some running footsteps. Our tattooed thug’s eyes shifted slightly, and Holm and I realized at the same time that this man wasn’t working alone.

  “You got this?” Holm muttered. I knew this play. We’d done it so many times before.

  “I’ve got this,” I replied under my breath. Holm ducked down, and I stepped forward, forcing the man to focus the barrel of his rifle onto me in order to keep me at bay. Holm ran back down the stairs and rounded the corner, and by the time my rifle-wielding opponent realized what had happened, he had lost his window and his shot.

  A dark chuckle escaped his lips. “The only thing stopping me from shooting you is that I want you to pass along a message to your entire team.”

  “Really?” I grinned widely, knowing it would annoy him. “It has nothing to do with my pistol aimed at your chest?”

  “Rifle trumps pistol, buddy.” His false bravado was transparent, and I could see the flicker of fear deep in his eyes.

  “Not at this range,” I reminded him. I caught movement behind him, a flash of blonde hair, and began to laugh, which angered him even more. He raised his rifle up to my face.

  “I wouldn’t do that,” I advised.

  “Oh, yeah? Why not?” He sneered.

  Holm pressed the barrel of his pistol into the man’s back.

  “That’s why,” I snarked.

  “Drop the weapon,” Holm snapped.

  The man gritted his teeth in anger and frustration, but he lowered the AR. I stepped behind him and holstered my gun, and Holm and I made quick work of tying his hands behind his back.

  “The other guy?” I asked Holm hurriedly as we worked. Holm shook his head solemnly.

  “He got away,” he muttered regretfully. “There was no sign of anyone else up there, just this handy rope.”

  I laughed at our good fortune. That, plus my knot-tying skills, ensured that this perp wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon.

  After making the call to local law enforcement and a medic, Holm stood by at the ready while I sat beside our captive. Now that the excitement had died down, my injury was catching up to me, and I was in a lot of pain. I didn’t think I’d been hit that bad, and the fact that I was still completely mobile was promising. If I had to guess, it was a minor graze.

  When the police and the ambulance arrived, I let Holm handle the arrest while I received medical care. The music had stopped in the patio bar, and the crowds that had been dancing not long before were now spilling out over the street as everyone tried to get a glimpse of the aftermath.

  The man tending to my wounds was a tall, bald man with kind eyes.

  “Was anyone else hurt?” I asked him as he ripped my tank top open and began examining the wound beneath it.

  “There are a few injuries, but nothing major,” he replied, not letting my questions distract him from his work. “Yours is the worst.”

  “It doesn’t feel that bad,” I argued. He looked up at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “Yeah, that’s because your adrenaline is still pumping.” Then he looked back down at my side. “It’s a decent graze. I can patch you up, but I want to bring you in and get you taken care of properly.”

  “I guess tonight is taking a turn.” I sighed as I looked out through the crowd.

  “Oh, it didn’t already take a turn when you got shot at?” he joked, but I barely heard him. Alejandra had broken through the crowd and was making her way toward me, concern in her eyes.

  “Ethan!” she cried, throwing her arms around me. I winced at the shooting pain in my side, but I welcomed the embrace. “I don’t know how much more of this I can take.”

  “Are you okay?” I pressed, looking her up and down to reassure myself that she hadn’t been hit.

  “Oh, I’m fine,” she assured me. “I’m just worried about you, is all.”

  Holm strolled up at that moment. “Good, Alejandra, I’m glad you’re here.”

  “Why’s that?” she asked, breaking our connection and turning to Holm.

  Holm looked over at me pointedly before he spoke. “The second shooter got away. He is still out there, and we don’t know when or where he is going to resurface. Marston, I assume you’re headed to the hospital?”

  I nodded my response. Holm seemed to have a handle on this entire situation.

  “Good,” he replied shortly. “The local police will have a presence at the hospital for you. I will drive Alejandra to Header’s place so that she’s safe. While I’m there, I’ll grab some sample kits from Bonnie, and I will be back here first thing in the morning to meet Linda on the Coast Guard base. Then hopefully, we can interview our shooter before heading back west.”

  I had to admit. It was a solid plan. Holm was usually pretty good at thinking on his feet.

  “We should probably call Diane,” I muttered as the EMT tried coaxing me into the ambulance. “She might want to know what happened.”

  Holm smirked good-naturedly. “I was just about to call her. I wanted to make sure we had a plan in place first.”

  “Good idea,” I chuckled. I knew that if Holm had called her before thinking things through, it would have been a much more chaotic phone call as she tried to figure out how she could help. It was better that we could give her the sense that we had everything under control.

  Whether we actually did or not was an entirely different question.

  Chapter 18: Alejandra

  Alejandra didn’t want to be separated from Ethan and Robbie. They had gone above and beyond to ensure that she was safe, and now she felt as if they were passing her off. She understood the logic, though. Someone out there knew who Ethan and Robbie were, and they knew MBLIS was working this case. She was as much in the crossfires as the two agents were, without the benefit of their fighting and survival skills. They were being true to how she had perceived them, and they wanted to keep her safe.

  She was glad at least to know where she was going. Jake Header seemed nice enough, with the added bonus of knowing her father trusted him with her brother’s life. She’d also already been there and met his team. She was looking forward to practicing her signing skills with Rosa again. It had been a while since she’d had occasion to sign, and although she was rusty, she was motivated to keep learning.

  Robbie was silent as he sat next to her in the cab, and she imagined it had a lot to do with his processing everything that had happened tonight. When they finally reached the hotel, he insisted she stay glued to his side.

  “I’m going to wait outside your room while you pack,” he informed her as they headed up to the rooms. “I’m sorry this is all happening so fast, but I can’t risk your safety. Marston and I still have things to tackle here, but we will be down by Header before you know it.”

  “I know,” she muttered, leading the way down the long hallway to her room. “I don’t like any of this, but I understand why.” Alejandra’s steps slowed as she reached her door. Robbie and Ethan had been staying in the room next to her, and on their door was a plain envelope.

  “Robbie,” she whispered, her voice trembling, “please tell me that your team leaves each other notes like this.”

  His lack of response wasn’t very encouraging, and as he yanked the envelope off of his door and began to unfold the note that he found inside, Alejandra felt her stomach twist into knots. She had a feeli
ng it wasn’t a friendly note at all.

  Robbie’s jaw twitched, and his eyes darkened as he read, and when he was done, he didn’t make a move to hand it over to her.

  “What?” she breathed, quickly snatching it out of his hand before he could react. She glanced down at it, and her eyes widened in fear.

  Drop the investigation, or Miguel García dies.

  It was a simple note. Simple yet effective. There was no name on it or any identifying marks.

  “We need to be careful with that,” Robbie muttered, his voice suddenly cold. “I’m bringing it to Bonnie to scan for prints.”

  Alejandra nodded, handing it carefully back to him. He carefully slid it back into the envelope.

  “The plan remains the same.” Robbie gestured toward her door. “We get you someplace safe, and I’ll double back for Marston. I’ll call Ramsey while you pack.”

  The change in Robbie’s demeanor did nothing to ease Alejandra’s anxiety. She didn’t know what to do with all of the emotions that were coursing through her body, so she simply opted to do her best to shut them off. She let herself into her room robotically and made quick work of packing up. When she stepped back into the hall, Robbie had his own bag packed and ready to go.

  “You’re not coming back here?” she asked timidly.

  “No.” He shook his head and then gestured for her to follow him down the hall. “They know where we are staying, so that means we can’t stay here anymore. It’s fine. I think if I catnap at Header’s, I’ll be able to drive back over in the morning.”

  She picked up her bag and followed him down the hall. It seemed longer than she remembered, the densely patterned carpet stretching out for ages, and her feet felt like lead. When they finally got down to the lobby, she felt uncomfortably exposed. She stayed glued just off of Robbie’s right elbow, and even though she was completely violating his personal space, she didn’t care. He didn’t say anything or shy away, and when they reached the valet, he actually stepped closer to her, blockading her up against the nearby wall. On the one hand, she couldn’t go anywhere, but on the other hand, no one could get to her without moving Robbie first. As they waited for Jake’s truck to pull up, she studied Robbie’s face. His jaw was tense, and it twitched occasionally. The skin around his eyes was tight, and they kept darting from side to side, scanning their surroundings. He was on edge and alert, and she didn’t dare break his concentration.