by Dana Mentink
The girl turned and slammed out of the bathroom.
EIGHT
Candace started after her, but Marco must have read the situation, because he was already in pursuit down the hallway.
“Stop!” he cried.
The girl took off for the stairs, dodging around courthouse visitors.
He grabbed his radio. “Dev, girl in the south stairwell, maybe twenty, blond hair, eye trouble.”
Candace heard Dev click the radio button to confirm.
Marco jogged to the top of the stairs, but had to stop when a flood of people emerged from a conference room into the hall. With a look of profound irritation, he returned to Candace’s side.
“What happened?” he asked.
“The woman told me Jay Rico was looking forward to meeting me.”
His teeth clamped shut with an audible click. “She didn’t hurt you?”
“She bumped me with her bag, but when she went for my throat I blasted her with my hair spray.” Candace was still breathing hard from the encounter, but she wasn’t teary or shaking, much to her surprise.
He grinned. “Smart thinking.”
“Just reacting. I’m not sure how I thought of it.” She blew out a shuddering breath.
Marco went to put his arm around her shoulders, but she waved him away. “I’m okay. Let’s go.”
They went out the front, nice and public, plenty of people around on a midmorning Monday. The crush of strangers did not ease Candace’s mind when she considered that Rico’s lady friend had strolled right up to her in a public bathroom. If she wasn’t safe in a courthouse, where in the world would she be protected from the Pack?
He got her in the truck, and Dev radioed.
“She didn’t exit. Must’ve gone back into the building. I’m en route to check the other stairwell and alert the security people.”
“I just called Donna at the office,” Marco said. “Going to drive for a while. Too risky to return to the Party Palace in case Rico’s got eyes on us.”
Dev clicked off.
Candace was glad to be driving, moving, anything to give her time to think over what had happened. Not what, she realized. How? How had they known when and where she would be? As cars passed, she peered into each one, looking for malicious expressions, signs of unusual interest. If this situation wasn’t resolved soon, she would become downright paranoid. She wondered how Marco had made the transition from active duty, where he was constantly a target, to a civilian, without falling victim to that very paranoia. Another reason to respect the men and women who faced life and death, and then an uncomfortable transition back into everyday living.
Marco had turned down a quiet road that would take them to the freeway. She allowed her body to relax a fraction. Then she noticed his gaze riveted to the rearview mirror as a car pulled in behind his truck.
Dark paint, tinted windows. Her throat grew dry. Paranoia again?
The driver closed the gap, now only a few feet from their own vehicle. She clutched the armrest. “It’s them.”
“Dev...” Marco started to say into the radio, just as their pursuer sped up and rammed the truck.
Candace screamed. The hard impact sent the radio flying out of Marco’s grip and onto the floor.
He accelerated, putting some precious distance between them. The freeway on-ramp was around the next corner, past a sunken grassy lot. Once they were on the freeway, they would be safe, she thought, surrounded by the constant flood of Southern California traffic. She leaned forward as if to try and lend speed to Marco’s truck. His efforts paid off as they began to pull away.
He punched the accelerator harder.
“We’re going to make it,” she thought with a thrill.
Without warning a second car pulled out in front—an Escalade with more tinted glass.
With no choice, Marco slammed the brakes, sending the truck into a skid that carried them over the shoulder and down to the grassy lot below. Only the seat belt kept her from being thrown around the cab of the truck.
“Get the radio,” he said, over the mad bumping of the tires.
She tried to reach down for it, but the truck was bucking over the uneven ground and it was all she could do to keep from smashing her head on the console.
“Hold on,” he shouted, as the vehicles closed in on them, front and back.
Part of Candace felt strangely detached as she thought logically over the situation. Their ambush had been strategic, and well planned. There was no other traffic on this road. She realized this must have been the Pack’s plan all along. The girl was probably ordered there to scare her into leaving the safety of the courthouse. They’d been watching, waiting, and biding their time to spring this trap. There was little hope that any passersby would notice the attack, since the sharp dip of the landscape shielded them from any prying eyes.
The cars pulled to a stop, and Marco had no choice but to do the same.
He left the engine running and unbuckled his seat belt. He shoved the KA-BAR knife into his waistband before turning to her.
“Stay in the truck with the doors locked and your head down. Radio or call Dev as soon as you can,” he said. “When you see a chance, hit the gas and get back to the road.”
Her pulse slammed against her throat and her hands had gone cold. “What are you going to do?”
“Meet Jay Rico.”
She gasped, scared by the hard glint in Marco’s eyes, which were always gentle when they looked at her. It was as if he was two men, and the soldier had stepped out in front of the kind man she knew. “Marco, you can’t. Stay here. I’ll call the cops.” She clutched his arm. “Please do not do this.”
He put his big palm over hers. “Gonna be okay.”
“How is this going to be okay?” she hissed. “This is the furthest thing from okay.”
His mouth twisted in a small grin. “Good guys always win, remember?”
No, they don’t, she wanted to scream. Rick didn’t. My father didn’t, and I don’t want you to die, too.
Through the rear window, she saw two young men in baggy jeans approaching the truck. There had been no movement from the forward Escalade.
“Let’s try to get away together,” she said, frantically reaching for him.
“Go when you can,” Marco repeated, and then he got out of the truck, slamming the door behind him.
* * *
The two men approaching suddenly froze. The taller one was Shoe Guy from the junior college parking lot. His eyes narrowed into slits of hatred.
“Got some new shoes, I see,” Marco said cheerfully. “Very nice”
“Shut your mouth, man.”
“’Course, they’re not as nice as the one my dog chewed up, but I guess you had to get this pair on the cheap, huh? Shopped the sales? Maybe you should ask Rico to up your footwear allowance.”
The guy dived at him, bat in hand, and Marco easily sidestepped, sending him crashing to the ground.
He got to his feet, discarding the bat and drawing a knife from his belt. “Okay, smart mouth. Let’s see what you got.”
“I thought you already saw that. How’s the wrist? Tender?” He saw the bruise where he’d hit him with the plank in the parking lot. Marco watched, hands loose and ready. He’d had hours upon hours of combat training, enough to keep his cool when things went south. Shoe Guy was mad, his face tight and pinched, and that gave Marco the advantage. Mad combined with insufficient training made you sloppy. Mistake number one. Bring it on, kid. I’m ready for a rematch.
Shoe Guy was considering his options on where to cut Marco first. Mistake number two. Hesitation gave your opponent the power. Marco struck out with a quick punch to the throat that sent him to the ground, gagging.
His companion retreated a couple steps.
Marco heard the sound of clapping and allowed a quick look.
A guy in his late thirties, with hair slicked back in a dark braid, leaned against the back bumper of the Escalade, his eyes concealed by mirrored sunglasses. He wore loose-fitting jeans, scuffed leather boots and a button-up shirt, slightly rumpled. Marco recognized him from his internet search as Jay Rico.
“Points for you, Popeye,” Rico said. “Or does everybody call you Chief?”
Marco kept guy number two in his peripheral vision. He could disable him easily also, he figured, until the man pulled a pistol from his belt. That complicated things. He’d probably still be able to disarm him, but wasn’t going to risk any stray bullets striking Candace. He wondered if she’d found the radio.
Hit the gas and get out of here, Candace, he silently willed. What are you waiting for?
“Come on over,” Rico said, gesturing. “I hear you’ve been asking around about me.” His voice was soft, slightly high pitched. He reminded Marco of the guy who made his kale smoothies back in Coronado, a wiry type who worked real hard to appear relaxed and easygoing.
Marco moved closer, feeling the dude with the gun shadowing him from behind. The Escalade’s driver got out, too, a gun in his hand. His hair was greasy, same baggy clothing and his front tooth was missing. Would it kill any of these guys to pull their pants up? The count stood at three, not including the one still gagging on the ground. Two guns and probably more, since Rico was undoubtedly carrying a weapon, as well.
When Marco got within a couple feet of Rico, the gangster held up a palm. “All right. You wanted to talk to me, so here I am.” He patted a hand to his breast pocket and shook his head. “Trying to quit smoking, but man, that nicotine has a hold on me. Never start, that’s what I tell my boys. Cigarettes will kill you.”
Marco wasn’t good at small talk and at the moment his desire to make idle chitchat with a gang boss was zilch. “Stay away from Candace Gallagher.”
Jay cocked his head slightly and took off the sunglasses. His eyes were the color of midnight, glinting with curiosity more than malice. Didn’t fool Marco. He’d read the case files on Rico, who had allegedly gunned down a convenience store owner when he was sixteen. The owner’s wife had been too scared to testify. That was just the first of a list of crimes.
“No getting acquainted, I see,” Rico said.
“I know all I need to know about you.”
“Really? That’s arrogant, isn’t it?” Rico shook his head in disgust. “You come barreling into town, think you can call the shots regarding my family without even understanding who you’re up against? Without giving your opponent the proper consideration? What’s the matter with you?”
“Situation’s black-and-white. One of your ‘family’ gunned down a kid at a gas station. Kevin Tooley’s going to prison. End of story.”
“It’s not the end of my story.” Rico leaned back on the bumper as if he were a king on a throne. “I write my own scenes the way I want them to be. I got the power to do that, you see?”
“You control everything, huh?”
“Oh, yeah. In my neighborhood, I do.”
“This isn’t your neighborhood, and that’s not the way it’s going to work this time. Tooley’s going to prison.”
“I don’t think so. Fuzz is just a kid, too young to do hard time.” Rico’s lip curled in a small smile. “We call him Fuzz on account of he can’t even grow a beard.” The driver crimped a smile and they shared a chuckle.
“Eighteen,” Marco said. “Legal adult. Old enough to know better than to shoot people.”
Rico lifted a shoulder. “A mistake.”
“One he’s going to pay for.”
There was several seconds of silence before Rico folded his arms across his chest, something in his face turning to steel. “You don’t get to decide that for my family. He’s Pack. Untouchable.”
“And you call me arrogant.”
Rico cracked a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Funny man. You should do stand-up.”
“Bottom line is you’re not going to hurt my family to protect yours.”
Rico straightened and walked to Marco. He was a few inches shorter and had a slighter physique, but he was strong, his forearms knotted with muscle, a scar twisting along his right wrist along with the tattoos. Gym rat, Marco suspected. He stared and Marco stared right back into those black eyes. It was like looking at a long stretch of bad road.
“On that we agree. Family is everything, isn’t it?” Rico said softly. “You were a SEAL. You understand duty and commitment to your people. You would give your life for your men. We’re not so different.”
“If my guys were murdering criminals,” he said calmly, “I’d let them take their punishment.”
Some emotion glimmered in the dark pools of Rico’s eyes. “Yeah?” he said softly. “What if they were addicts?”
Marco’s gut lurched in surprise, but he kept his face stony. Rico had done his research on his adversary, just as Marco had.
“So if your girl was a heroin addict, I wonder, would you help her out, or go be the big, bad navy SEAL and turn your back?” Rico was watching for any sign that his bullet had hit the target. Marco wouldn’t give him one, even though his stomach was churning.
“Naw,” Rico said with a shake of his head. “I guess you would put your family first, right? Stay home and help your girl get past the addiction?” He stopped as if remembering. “Oh, wait a minute. You didn’t, did you? You left her to go do your Popeye thing, and she crashed hard. Divorced you, I heard, messed herself up real bad and never did get clean. Died, didn’t she?”
After she’d spiraled downward into destruction, endured a string of failed relationships and stints in jail, he’d finally lost track of Gwen for good until he got word the past December that she’d died of an overdose. Hurt took him to his knees then, pain so bad only prayer saved him from tortured memories that came back again in hideous Technicolor.
If he’d taken a different approach...
If he’d tried harder...
If he hadn’t left her alone in strange places while he pursued his navy career...
He gritted his teeth and, with all the effort he could muster, kept his voice level. “Stay away from Candace Gallagher.”
They were almost nose to nose. “Not going to put my boy Fuzz in prison.”
“He’s guilty. He’s gonna do the time.”
Rico jutted out his chin. “Here’s the scenario. If Candace Gallagher tries to testify, then she’s going to die.”
“You first,” Marco said.
“So it’s gonna be like that, huh?”
Marco saw Rico’s driver step forward, gun in his hand. He got ready to dive for the guy. “Yeah, it’s gonna be like that.”
Rico waved the driver off, taking his own gun from his waistband.
“Then let the games begin.” Without warning, he swiveled his arm and shot five rounds into the windshield of Marco’s truck.
NINE
Candace already had her foot on the gas when she saw Rico reach for the gun tucked in his waistband. Anger flamed up hot and hungry in her soul. There was no way she was going to allow Marco to be gunned down right in front of her eyes.
When the bullets exploded through the windshield, adrenaline fueled her in time to pull herself down below the dash. Somehow she managed not to scream. Unable to see where she was going, she jammed her foot to the accelerator.
The truck hurtled in the direction of the Escalade. She cringed, praying she wouldn’t plow over Marco. The vehicle flew forward, and she tried to estimate the distance before contact. She figured she had another couple feet before the fender impacted Rico’s car.
Wrong. The suddenness of the crash slammed her against the steering wheel, driving the breath out of her in a wh
oosh of air. She tried to open the driver’s door, but it refused to budge, so she scrambled to the passenger side. Throwing it open, she saw she’d crumpled the front end of the Escalade and ruined the front end of Marco’s truck.
The man whom she suspected was the driver sat upright on the ground, dazed, blood trickling from his lips from a spot where his tooth was missing. There was no sign of Marco or Rico.
Frantically, she looked under the Escalade and the truck, praying she wouldn’t find Marco’s mangled body in the wreck. Keeping close to the shelter of the open door, she strained to see any sign of Marco.
Arms went around her from behind. She screamed and struggled, but Jay Rico lifted her and carried her away from the wreck to the undamaged SUV that had closed them in from the rear. She pummeled him with her fists and even pulled his hair, but couldn’t dislodge herself. He shoved her inside.
She kicked out, catching him in the knee.
He stopped and, to her great surprise, grinned at her. “You remind me of a woman I knew. Spirited and feisty. ‘No one owns me, Rico,’ she would say.” His smile faded and something sharp and cold took its place. “But she betrayed me. I decided a long time ago that no one gets to do that, so I didn’t have a choice. You gotta draw the battle lines in your life, you know?” A look of contemplation flickered across his delicate features.
“I’ve drawn mine,” she said shakily. “You won’t scare me off.”
“Okay,” he said, pulling his gun and putting it to her temple. “Then you get to die now.”
She wanted to scream, but nothing would come out of her mouth. The only thing her brain could recognize was that cold circle of metal where the gun pressed against her skull.
A body slammed into Rico from behind. His chin impacted the metal door frame, and the gun spiraled away. Marco, eyes blazing, threw Rico to the ground and stood facing him, hands fisted. Rico lay on his back, swiping at his bloody face.
Candace tumbled from the car and fell to her knees. Dev appeared, helping her up, and through her tangle of hair she saw Marco closing in on Jay Rico.
* * *
