Irish Throwdown (What Happens In Vegas Book 4)

by Matt Lincoln

  “There you go again,” he spat. “Looking at me with pity. I don’t need your pity! You’re just another desk-jockey like me, so what the hell makes you so special?”

  He took a single, aggressive stride toward me, and that was all the provocation Nelson needed to bring his gun up fluidly.

  “Don’t!” I shouted reflexively.

  It was clear Howard wasn’t in his right mind at the moment. Regardless of what he’d done, Howard was still a part of our team, and I couldn’t just let Nelson kill him. Howard, however, only became more enraged at my concern and charged at us.

  I screamed as the bullet tore out Nelson’s gun. The accompanying bang seemed to reverberate around the office, and it rang gratingly in my ears. Howard fell to the ground as Nelson’s well-aimed shot pierced through his thigh.

  The relief I felt at realizing that Nelson had only shot him in the leg was short-lived. Just a moment after falling to the ground, Howard was already clambering back onto his feet.

  “What the…” I heard Nelson mutter in disbelief. I glanced over at him, and, suddenly, everything seemed to be moving in slow motion.

  Whatever Howard was on was powerful enough to numb the pain of a gunshot. Any second now, he was going to charge at us again. Nelson had a bad leg and couldn’t run. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that if I didn’t do something now, Nelson was going to shoot Howard dead.

  “Come on, Nelson,” I hissed urgently as I threw his arm over my shoulders so he could support himself against me as he walked. His office door was just a few feet behind us, and if we moved fast, we might be able to slip inside before Howard regained his footing.

  We had just made it to the threshold when I heard Howard roar with anger behind us. I turned just in time to see him charging at us once again. I shoved Nelson with as much force as I could into the office and rushed in behind him. I turned to slam the door shut, but Howard was already there. He wedged his arm through the small gap in the door and attempted to force it open.

  I pressed my entire body weight against the door. Adrenaline was numbing the pain in my arms and collarbone, but I could still feel a dull thrum of pain that I knew would be agonizing later.

  I brought my elbow down hard against Howard’s arm in an attempt to get him to let go, but it was in vain. Howard wasn’t feeling anything right now.

  “I’m sorry, Agent Howard,” Nelson said as he stumbled up to the small gap in the door. For a moment, my blood ran cold as I was gripped with the fear that Nelson was about to shoot him. An instant later, though, those fears were abated as Nelson thrust one of his canes through the small gap. I heard Howard cry out in pain, and a moment later, the door slammed shut as he pulled his arm away.

  I wasted no time in clicking the locks shut securely.

  “Open the door!” Howard yelled as he pounded forcefully against the wood.

  “What did you do?” I gasped as I struggled to regain my breath. I kept my back planted firmly against the door as I lowered myself onto the ground.

  “Jabbed him in the eye,” Nelson said as he slid down against the door and onto the floor next to me. “Even if his pain receptors are numbed, there’s no way he’s going to ignore something hitting him in the eye. He pulled his hands up to his face instinctively.”

  “That was smart,” I complimented him as I tentatively reached my left hand up to touch the part of my collarbone that was currently throbbing with pain. It was hot to the touch and felt swollen.

  “It was a gamble,” he replied. “Try not to move around too much. It looks like your clavicle might be broken.”

  “I need to call someone,” I replied as I slipped my phone out of my pocket. My earlier suspicion had been correct. Now that I was cooling down, the pain from Howard’s attack was becoming nearly unbearable.

  I dialed nine-one-one but stopped myself just short of pressing the call button. I’d gone out of my way to prevent Nelson from killing Howard. If I called the cops, there was a good chance they would just shoot him right away. I needed to call someone else.

  I did my best to keep my breathing slow and even as I made the call.

  “Hey, what’s up?” Miranda’s cheery voice answered right away.

  “Miranda,” I gasped, unable to keep my voice steady against the pain. “I need help. Something’s really wrong. Come back to the office fast!”

  I could hear Howard screaming incoherently just outside as he pounded furiously on the door. I hoped Miranda and Naomi would get back soon.

  17

  Charlie

  I could hear the passengers on the first level screaming below us as the tram sped through the streets of Dublin. It was clear that the busjacker was in control now and was likely having the driver take an erratic route. We didn’t know what his exact motive was, but whatever he wanted couldn’t be good, considering he’d stormed onto the bus with a gun.

  “Are you ready?” I asked Junior.

  “As I’ll ever be,” he nodded in response.

  The plan was pretty simple. Junior would go down and distract the gunman. He was skilled at defusing dangerous situations and talking people down, so he had a better chance at successfully keeping the man’s attention between the two of us. While he was doing that, I would scale down the outside of the bus and, hopefully, make it to the front without getting myself killed on the way. That way, we’d be able to box the gunman in on either side. Once I was down there, I’d distract the shooter long enough for Junior to take him down.

  “Are you sure that you can do this?” Junior asked me dubiously.

  “Sure,” I smirked. “If I can hang onto the side of a moving train, I’m sure I can hang on to the side of a bus.”

  “You’re going to have to tell me that story later,” Junior chuckled. “Alright, I’m off.”

  I watched nervously as he drew his gun before slowly descending the spiral staircase that led to the lower level. Though we were cleared to have our firearms with us as federal agents, technically, we weren’t supposed to be using them until we met back up with our police liaison the following morning. The rules were different in Ireland, and they preferred for their own authorities to supervise any time firearms might end up being used. Desperate times, though.

  Once he was gone, I moved into action. The emergency windows on this bus were the kind that swung open when a latch was pulled. This was fortunate because it meant that I wouldn’t have to kick the window out and potentially alert the shooter below.

  The large window swung open easily, and I was hit with a roar of noise as the wind rushed into the bus. I peered out the window, and I could see that there were two small ledges along the side of the bus. They were meant to hold advertisements in place, but they would work perfectly as footholds as I scaled my way down. I could hear the other passengers whispering nervously as they watched me, but I blocked everything else out and just focused on my mission as I swung my legs out over the edge of the window.

  Just as I did, the bus driver made a sharp turn, and I lost my balance. I managed to grip the edge of the windowsill with one hand, but my hold was too unstable for me to gain my footing below me.

  I could feel my grip slipping, but before I lost it entirely, I felt a slim pair of hands grab tightly onto my wrist. I looked up and found myself face-to-face with the young woman who I’d seen holding a crying baby earlier. A second later, a man who I assumed was her husband appeared by her side to help pull me up. Once I was back up against the windowsill, I was able to plant my feet firmly against the thin ledge below me.

  “Are you alright?” the woman asked with an accent I couldn’t immediately identify.

  “I’m fine,” I replied automatically. Just behind them, I could see their young son holding his baby sister tightly in his arms. They must have heard Junior and me talking about our plan. Seeing the kids just reminded me of exactly what was at stake here.

  “Thanks,” I nodded as I turned my attention back toward the side of the bus. The side of the bus was mostly smooth, sa
ve for the two small ledges that held banners in place, but I could see a small alcove right in front of the driver’s seat. The armed man was most likely standing by the driver and giving him orders. If I could make my way to the small opening in front of the driver’s seat, I’d have a clear shot at him.

  I made my way as quickly as I could along the side of the bus. Luckily, it seemed like we were currently on a relatively long and straight stretch of road, so I didn’t have to worry about getting tossed off during a sudden turn. I was nearly to the driver’s seat when I heard a gunshot ring out from inside the bus, followed by screams.

  I swore and moved as quickly as I dared the rest of the way toward the driver’s seat. Once I was above the alcove, I swung myself into the small space as quietly as possible.

  The bus driver’s eyes went wide as I suddenly appeared in front of him. I quickly held a finger up to my mouth before he could say anything. Through the window, I could see that the gunman was facing the back of the bus. The passengers were all cowering in their seats, and I could see Junior at the back of the bus, using the staircase as cover while he pointed his gun toward the busjacker.

  I lifted my own gun and pointed it directly at the suspect. The image of the frightened little boy clutching his baby sister flashed across my mind, and I kicked on the glass hard. The bus’s windows splintered and cracked, but to my horror, they did not shatter. The gunman whipped around to face me. I was still crouched on the front of the bus, and I kept my gun aimed right at him, though with the glass still intact before me, I didn’t dare pull the trigger. There were too many innocent bystanders to risk a shot going rogue through the glass.

  The gunman lifted his weapon and shot toward me. The glass shattered, and the driver panicked and swerved violently. There was a long metal pole along the driver-side door that held the rearview mirror in place, and I held onto it tightly as the bus careened from side to side.

  The gunman pulled the trigger again, and I ducked my head and closed my eyes as shards of glass rained down all around me. I could hear more gunshots from inside the bus, and I lifted my head back up just in time to see the Junior knock the suspect to the ground. The gunman had been so focused on me that he hadn’t even noticed Junior racing toward him.

  Junior swiftly kicked the gunman’s abandoned gun toward the back of the bus, away from the assailant and toward safety.

  “Are you okay?” he called as he looked up at me.

  “Fine,” I answered. I hadn’t realized when the bus had come to a stop. I was about to climb through the broken front window when I realized what a dumb idea that would be and slid off the front of the bus and onto the ground instead. I could see that a crowd had already formed around the bus, probably curious onlookers who had noticed a bus driving erratically and completely off its route.

  The surrounding buildings were all tall and pressed tightly together, which gave the street the feeling of being inside a tunnel. The buildings were all made of brick and stone, and it seemed odd to have so many buildings without any alleyways or space between them like I was so used to seeing in Las Vegas.

  I could hear police sirens in the distance as I ambled around the front of the bus toward the door. It slid open with a mechanical hiss, and I climbed up the ridged metal steps.

  “I’ve got him,” Junior alerted me as soon as I was back on the bus. The guy was on the ground in handcuffs, unconscious but clearly alive, judging by the low groaning sound he was making.

  “We should get these people off the bus,” I sighed before looking down at the man. “Geez, how hard did you hit him?”

  No sooner had I finished speaking, there was a rush of movement behind me as the passengers began to scramble off. The gunman was lying right in front of the door, so Junior stood up to guide the people safely around him and off the bus.

  “I didn’t mean to knock him out,” Junior replied. “He just hit his head on the ground as I tackled him. But hey, we didn’t even have to use our guns! So we didn’t break any rules, right?”

  “Yeah, you’re right.” I smirked before turning to the bus driver, who flinched as I spoke to him. “Where are we? I need to call this guy an ambulance.”

  “Middle Abbey Street,” he replied shakily. “Near the intersection to William’s Lane.”

  I nodded and dialed nine-nine-nine, the emergency number for Ireland, and called for an ambulance for the suspect.

  “I heard gunshots,” I remarked as I looked down at the gunman. “Was anyone else hurt?”

  “No,” Junior shook his head. “He just got mad and started shooting at me when I asked him to let everyone else off the bus. He said there would be nothing for him to bargain with if he did that.”

  “So it was a ransom situation then?” I surmised. “Take a bus full of people hostage and demand money in exchange for their safety?”

  “That’s what it looked like,” Junior replied as he rolled his neck and shoulders tensely. “What a way to start our time in Ireland, huh?”

  “You got that right,” I huffed. “I guess it’s lucky you were so eager to ride this thing. We wouldn’t have been here to help if we’d just taken a taxi.”

  “I guess that’s true,” Junior mused as the last passengers filed off the bus. He turned to look at something behind me, and I realized he was looking at the bus driver.

  “Do you want to get off too?” I turned around to speak to him.

  “No,” he replied blankly. His eyes were wide, and he was trembling. “I need to talk to the police. Give them a statement and all that.”

  “Right,” I grumbled. We would have to stick around and explain things too. “Ugh. We’re going to be here all night.”

  “I just wanted to go for a ride on the tram,” Junior muttered bitterly as he continued to massage his arm.

  “You okay?” I asked as I watched him flex his shoulder uncomfortably. As soon as I’d gotten back onto the bus, I’d noticed that he seemed to be in pain.

  “I’m fine,” he replied and immediately ceased his movements as if he didn’t want me to notice. “Just tired from the long flight, I think. I just want to go to the hotel and get some sleep.”

  “Well, it’ll have to wait.” I nodded toward the approaching officers. “I think we’re going to have to stay a while longer.”

  Junior sighed defeatedly before squaring himself back up and putting on his most placating smile. I decided to leave most of the talking to him and slipped my phone out of my pocket to call Wallace. Even if it was unrelated to our case, we needed to inform him that we’d been involved in a criminal incident.

  18

  Miranda

  My heart was pounding as Naomi and I jumped out of the car and rushed into the office building. Fiona had called me earlier to tell me that Agent Howard had suddenly gone crazy and attacked her and Nelson. It had felt like a punch to the gut to hear one of our own displaying symptoms of the new drug. I didn’t understand it, though. Agent Howard was our lab technician. He knew better than any of us how deadly that drug was, so I just couldn’t figure out how he, of all people, had fallen victim to it.

  I forced the thoughts from my mind as I burst through the stairwell door and raced up the stairs. I was running on pure adrenaline and didn’t have the patience to wait for the elevator. I’d never been in the stairwell before. The plain white walls were yellowing with age, and flecks of paint were peeling off the worn banister, exposing the rusted metal beneath. Somehow, the sight just put me more on edge, and I willed my legs to move faster up the stairs.

  I could hear the click of Naomi’s shoes as she climbed up the stairs behind me, and I felt a pang of guilt as I realized she was racing up five flights of stairs in high heels. Still, she was managing to keep pace behind me, so she clearly wasn’t concerned.

  I didn’t break pace as I made it to the fifth floor and shoved the door open using the momentum of my own body weight. I raced down the hall and yanked at the office doors. I panicked for a moment when they wouldn’t budge until I rememb
ered that stupid keypad we’d installed after someone had sent a bomb to the office earlier in the year.

  I attempted to punch my code in, but my fingers fumbled in my haste, and the keypad rejected me.

  “Dammit,” I growled as I lifted my hand to try again.

  “Let me,” Naomi stated calmly as she swiftly and deftly punched her code in. The door unlocked with a beep, and I pushed it open.

  I gasped as I stepped into the office. The bullpen was a mess of overturned tables and chairs. Papers and personal items were scattered all over the floor, and I could see that someone’s computer had been smashed to pieces. Wallace’s office door was open, and I could see through the clear windows that his office was in a similar state. Fiona’s office appeared unscathed, though it was difficult to tell through the cracks spider-webbing all along the surface of the glass walls.

  At the end of the office, Agent Howard was sitting cross-legged on the floor. One of his legs was soaked with blood, and his left arm was mottled with bruises and looked swollen.

  “Agent Howard,” Naomi called gently as she approached him.

  He snapped his head up to look at her, wide-eyed and cautious. He didn’t seem angry right then, but there was something about the look in his eyes that made me think he wasn’t all there.

  “Hello,” he replied shakily. “I’m sorry about the mess. I got a little upset, I think.”

  “I can see that,” Naomi replied. Her voice was soft and patient, the way one might speak to a frightened child. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  “No,” Howard shook his head vigorously as he shot to his feet. I fought the urge to reach for my gun at the sudden movement. Fiona had told me he’d reacted violently when he saw Nelson draw his gun. I needed to be careful not to aggravate him. “I need to get back to work. Agent Hills and Agent Chapman are depending on me to help them solve this case. You’re depending on me too, right?”