Nobody responds.
“Okay?” Tommy urges.
A collection of grunts and yeses are muttered as the pilot starts speaking over the intercom, telling us we’re about to start descending and that we should take our seats and buckle up.
I can’t stop thinking about Tommy’s words as we’re descending. You want somebody like the DEA on your side. I wish I didn’t need anyone on my side, but deep down, sickening as it is, I know he’s probably right.
SIXTEEN
Lucky Dornan picked a place with an airstrip. Our landing is bumpy, and it’s a miracle the pilot doesn’t overshoot the runway and send us into the desert sand beyond.
An omen of what’s in store for us, perhaps? I don’t want to think about it.
Outside, it’s hot as hell. Literally. The sun is beating down on us, and I’m so relieved I decided to change into jeans and a t-shirt. In that purple dress I would’ve been burned to a crisp in ten minutes. At least in my white tee and jeans I’ve got a little protection from the sun.
And somewhere to shove my gun.
We assemble on the ground beside the plane, each holding a water bottle. Elliot dumps Donny in the sand and pours a bottle of water over his head, but the fucker doesn’t even stir.
“That way,” Luis says, but Tommy shakes his head. “This is where we split up, kids. We’ve got each other’s cell numbers, if they work at all. Keep the sound off and check your messages.”
“And then what?” I ask dumbly. “You can’t tell me the DEA has sent exactly two agents to take Dornan down.”
Tommy flashes a smile. “Our people are all over this place,” he says. “Hell, half of the team’s probably already down in the bunker, waiting for my okay.”
“Oh,” I reply. “Right.” I sound like a fucking moron.
“We’ll get those girls out, man,” Tommy says to Elliot. “It’s the top priority. The team knows, and they’ll extract them if they reach them before you do.”
Elliot nods. “Thanks, man.”
“Don’t thank me yet,” Tommy says. “Thank me when everyone makes it out of this alive.”
He gives me a pointed look. Maybe he can tell I’ve got death on speed dial, I don’t know. Whatever it is, it’s deeply unsettling.
Dornan is here. I’m going to see Dornan Ross. And one of us is going to die.
I want to throw up.
“Wait,” Luis says, taking the green-topped syringe from his pocket and uncapping it. He stabs it right into Donny’s forearm, and the effect is almost instantaneous. Donny roars to life, kicking and punching at the air as he gasps for air.
“How’s your ass, bro?” Jase asks, his gun aimed at Donny. Donny growls at him as he makes his way to his feet, apparently unable to speak with real words.
“Watch him,” Luis murmurs to me, tossing the syringe on the ground. “If he gets too much, give him some more of this stuff.” He hands me another, much smaller red-capped syringe. Red means stop. I smile tightly, pocketing the meds.
We all do a final check before we split up. Luis and Agent Dunn head off in one direction, Tommy and his partner in the other. Which leaves Jase, Elliot and I to lead crazy, amped-up Donny to the original GPS coordinates, straight through the middle of the valley.
We walk for maybe an hour, the midday sun pounding mercilessly as we trek across hot sand and hard clay. A few times, Donny starts running flat out, the drugs in his system no doubt making him feel like he’s having a heart attack and needs to burn off some of the anxious energy. Both times, Elliot and Jase drag him down and knock him around a bit until he settles.
Homeboy Donny is like a wild fucking bull. I think getting nailed in the ass has reduced him to some kind of animal state, because he’s looking seriously like a rabid dog you’d shoot to stop it from attacking you.
He looks … terrifying.
Eventually, just when I think I’m going to drown in my own sweat, we halt, Jase’s cell (well, Agent Dunn’s cell) telling us we’re at the spot Dornan fed to Elliot over the phone earlier.
“What the fuck is this?” Elliot says, scanning the empty, flat sand that surrounds us. “There’s nothing here.”
Then the ground begins to vibrate beneath us.
I jump as the ground below us starts to open up. We all back up until we’re on unmoving soil, watching as a ramp appears that leads underground. It eventually stops, leaving a space big enough for a large SUV to fit through. I can’t see anything downstairs, and I look around nervously, brushing my palms on my jeans as I suddenly feel very claustrophobic.
This is the moment. This is it.
Five down. Well, six, if you count Emilio.
Two.To.Go.
Elliot leads the way, Donny behind him. His hands are tied behind him again, since he carried on so many times during the walk from the airstrip. I mean, the guy’s missing most of one kneecap — he should NOT be able to run. Which makes me wonder what the hell is in the drug Luis pumped him with. I take the small red-capped needle from my pocket and grip it in my fingers, ready to deliver it if Donny starts getting out of hand and needs to be sedated again. In my other hand my gun is clenched tightly as I follow Elliot, Donny and Jase down into the seeming nothingness.
At that moment, as we’re descending into pitch blackness, the ramp starts to oscillate upwards again. Shit! We’ve got to get in there before it closes, and we’re still only halfway down this ramp. Jase kicks Donny forcefully, so he falls to his knees and then onto his stomach, rolling with force into the blackness. The three of us follow him as he tumbles, running down the ramp and scooting through before the gap closes and it becomes level with the earth again.
I land awkwardly, taking my finger off the trigger of my gun so I don’t accidentally shoot myself or one of the guys in the dark. I land hard, on my knees, and it hurts like a bastard. There’s a large screeching sound as the ramp folds back completely, leaving us trapped down here until we find another way out.
As my eyes adjust to the darkness, I can make out some shapes. There are several cars parked down here, in what looks like a large, circular space with a dirt floor and no windows. The scant light comes from a couple of weak LED lamps that flank the doorway to several passages.
Great. How the hell are we going to figure out which one to take?
Just then, Elliot’s cell phone vibrates. It’s so quiet in here, I jump at the sudden noise.
Elliot gives me a look before reading the message that lights up his screen. North passage, Amy and Kayla spotted from aircon vent. No Dornan.
“We should go together,” Jase says.
Elliot looks at both of us like we’re mad. “You guys need to stay here, cover me. I’m gonna need help getting them up to the surface.”
Jase looks reluctant to let him go off by himself. “You call us if anything happens,” he says, pointing at Elliot with urgency.
“Yeah, man,” he says, “same with you.” He looks at me. “Don’t do anything stupid,” he says to me finally.
I just nod, so scared I can’t speak.
I can’t help but think that this could be goodbye. And I don’t want it to be — but what the hell am I supposed to say right now?
I open my mouth, and Elliot just shakes his head. “Don’t,” he says. “I know you, sweetheart, and I know what you’re about to say. I will be back.”
He turns and takes three steps before stopping. I glance at Jase, who shrugs, taking a step back and motioning to Donny with his gun.
“Wait,” I whisper, following Elliot. He turns as I’m upon him, wrapping his arms around me so tight I can’t breathe.
I don’t care. I’m crying, and he’s squeezing me, and I don’t want him to go.
He pulls away, cupping my face in his hands. “You be safe, okay?” he says, his voice wavering. “You let him protect you. You let him take a bullet for you. He can handle it.”
I smile sadly underneath my tears, my fingers grasped tightly around Elliot’s wrists.
“Julz,”
he says.
“Yeah?”
“My arms.”
“Oh,” I say, releasing my grip. I step back.
“You be safe,” I whisper. “Don’t you take a bullet for anyone, you hear me?”
He nods reluctantly, then turns and jogs down the middle passageway, fading into a blur and then disappearing altogether.
And then there were three. I turn back to Jase, still reeling from the exchange from Elliot. Donny suddenly dives between us, scrambling towards the mine shaft that goes to the right of the passage Elliot just took. “Hey!” Jase yells, firing at his moving form. He doesn’t seem to hit anything, though, and before I can even raise my gun level and aim, Donny’s gone.
“Fuck!” Jase yells, running after him. I follow, or at least I start to follow.
Something hot smacks at my neck, something angry that makes a snapping, buzzing sound. A Taser. I’m thrown forwards, onto my hands and knees, my gun bouncing from my paralyzed grip and skidding away. As I fall, the Taser loses contact with my skin, a small mercy among a clusterfuck of events. How did this happen? How stupid are we? In less than five minutes we’ve split up and are now divided.
After a few agonizing seconds where I can’t move, my jello-limbs start to come back to life. My entire body buzzing, I manage to push myself from my hands and knees back to my feet, trembling as I turn to face my attacker.
I’m expecting Dornan, but there’s no Dornan.
It’s … a woman? About my height, maybe a bit shorter. Pretty face, wild blonde curls, crazy eyes.
Ohhhhh. Yes. Of course.
It’s Chad’s wife.
I never did catch her name.
She smiles at me. “Hello, cunt,” she says, lunging for me. I roll my eyes, putting my palms up and bracing for her attack. She’s strong for her size, but she packs all her energy into charging me, and all I have to do is sidestep her and she goes flying. I turn with her, letting her go before her momentum can carry me with her. I smirk as I watch her smash down into a pile of empty pallets on her hands and knees.
“You people really don’t have any other words, do you?” I tease her, emboldened by the fact that I’m not being pummeled to death by Dornan himself. I resume my defensive stance as she charges me again. This time, she’s holding a broken piece of the wood up like a stake.
“You’re the cunt who killed my husband,” she spits, stabbing the jagged piece of wood at me. I back up, barely deflecting her erratic slashes and jabs. There’s something to say about fighting crazy people, and this bitch might just be crazier than me. She continues to strike blindly, and finally I decide I need to stop her before she actually injures me.
“Use your words, blondie,” I say, smashing the heel of my palm into her nose. Blood explodes from her face as she staggers backwards, and I’m impressed that she manages to keep her balance. Still, she’s the one backing away from me now. I don’t let her get too far, matching her step for step as I back her into a corner.
“Bitch,” I say, throwing a left hook that connects with her cheek, sending her reeling to the side. “Slut,” I grab a fistful of her ridiculously beautiful curls and pull, lifting my knee up and guiding her face into it with a loud crack. That’ll be sore tomorrow, assuming I’m not laid out cold on a morgue gurney tomorrow. “See? All words you can use to describe me. Get creative!” I lash out with my foot, my boot connecting with her shin, sending her to her knees again.
“Oh, come on,” I pant, “we haven’t even made it to the good words yet!”
She’s doubled over, clutching her stomach and wheezing. She tilts her head up, staring at me through all the blood on her pretty face. “I loved him,” she sobs. “He was a good man!”
I’m baffled. She thinks Chad was a good man? Jesus, she’s got more issues than just a lack of brainpower. She’s insane. I decide to go on the offensive while she’s down, lunging for her and getting her in a headlock with my right arm.
“Your husband was a no-good fucking rapist,” I grind out, my lips brushing against her ear as I tighten my lock around her neck. “Your children are better off with him dead.”
“Fuck you!” she screams against my arm.
“Where’s Dornan?” I demand, throttling her a little.
“He’s gonna kill you, you murdering bitch!”
“Well, all right then,” I mutter, rolling my eyes. I squeeze as hard as I can without crushing her windpipe, counting in my head. She stops struggling at ten, and by fifteen she’s slumped forward in my arms.
I’m about to let her go when something punches dully into the side of me, knocking the wind out of me. I fall forward, suddenly unable to react, crashing into blondie as her face hits the floor with a sharp thwack. I roll off her and onto my back, gasping as my hands reach for the source of the pain that’s radiating from my side.
My hands come away wet. Fuck. I know what that means. I raise one palm to the light. It’s red.
But that’s not the worst thing. No, the worst thing is Donny, standing over me with a large butcher’s knife in his hand. He’s sporting a maniacal grin, his eyes gleaming as the uppers no doubt supercharge his system.
“You missed a few words,” he says, cackling.
Oh God. If Donny’s back here, where’s Jase?
“Do enlighten me,” I croak, clutching my side as I attempt to roll onto my side and up. I fail miserably in my attempt, the movement just making the red-hot poker in my side even more intense. I gasp for air as I hold myself, making a pathetic attempt to drag myself away from him. It’s too hard, and finally I just lay back down. I don’t want Donny to stab me to death while I’m trying to get to my feet.
Still holding the knife, he starts undoing his pants.
“Whore,” he says, tilting his head to the side as he sizes me up greedily. He pulls his zip down, exposing his bush and the top of his dick. Guess Luis forgot to give him his briefs back after he got fucked.
Go on, I think, lay on me. Try and fuck me, you useless piece of shit. I’ll take that knife and jam it so far into your neck —
I’m still mentally planning my next defense against Donny when suddenly, Donny’s not there. He’s been crash-tackled to the ground, somebody straddling his chest.
Jase. My relief is almost palpable, it’s so sudden and so expansive.
“Put it down, little bro,” Donny laughs. “You don’t have the balls to plant that knife in me.”
“You know all those times you told me I wasn’t your real brother?” Jase asks, knife poised in the air. I watch on in fascination as Donny laughs. “Sure.”
Jase smiles triumphantly. “I never thanked you for that,” he says, bringing down the blade into Donny’s shoulder.
Donny screams. Jase yanks the knife out with a meaty slurp, before plunging it into his other shoulder.
I can’t watch, but I can’t look away. Again, the knife is wrenched from Donny’s body with a sickening noise. This time, though, Jase lowers the knife agonizingly close to Donny’s eye. Donny’s entire body is shaking, and I smile as I realize he can’t move his arms. Whatever Jase did to his shoulders must have severed the tendons that made his arms work.
Sucked in, asshole.
At first, I don’t think he’s going to do it. Jase hovers the knife right above Donny’s pupil, breathing heavily.
“Please, don’t,” Donny pleads.
Jase laughs bitterly. “Remember when she begged?” he spits. “Did you stop?”
He presses the tip of the blade into Donny’s eye.
Donny screams.
Still clutching my stab wound, I manage to haul myself up to a half-sitting position, my knees drawn up in front of me and my back up against the wall. My hands are covered in my own blood, and I’m staring down at it in wonder when something wet hits my cheek.
Alarmed, I snap my gaze back to what’s unfolding in front of me.
Jase is raining down on Donny, one stab after another. Most of the stabs are concentrated on Donny’s chest and neck, and at lea
st one must have hit an artery, because Donny’s a gusher. Blood sprays in a rough circular pattern around Donny and Jase, coating me in a fine sheen of red mist. I’m transfixed, unmoving, as I watch the knife in Jase’s hand rise and fall, rise and fall, a frenzy of well-aimed downward strikes into his brother’s ruined flesh.
“Jase,” I choke.
He doesn’t hear me. He’s stabbing so fast I can’t even see the action clearly anymore — hatred and suffering channeled into retribution at the end of a sharp blade.
“Jason,” I say, louder this time. He seems to hear me this time, stopping mid-stab. Donny’s a mess. Jase has done an impressive hack-job on him, so that he’s unrecognizable. Jase’s eyes meet with mine before he drops them to where I’m holding my side.
“Julz,” he breathes, dropping the knife with a clattering sound and crawling over his brother’s mutilated body to me. He studies my face for a moment before placing a hand ever so gently on mine.
“I need to look,” he murmurs. Reluctantly, I pull my hand from my stomach, where it’s stuck to my skin with drying blood. He peers down at my wound. “We’ll find you a doctor as soon as we’re out of here,” he says gently.
“I’m fine,” I protest. “It hurts, but it’s not going to kill me. Here, help me up.”
He doesn’t help me up. He leans in and presses his mouth to mine, a feverish action that I can’t help but return. He kisses me, even though we’re both covered in Donny’s blood, and I kiss him back. It’s not pretty, and it’s not nice, but that’s okay. Because, in our world, it takes the taste of death in your mouth, bloody and warm, to truly understand what it means to be alive.
SEVENTEEN
We creep along the hallway Elliot took, heading further into the rabbit warren. I’ve completely lost track of time or how we got into this passage, and if I do survive the night, I’ll probably be living the rest of my life wandering these halls, trying to find an escape vent to the surface. For now, I’m just focused on the task at hand, the one that I know isn’t over. Elliot. Kayla. Amy. I’m not leaving this place until all three of them are safe. After the attack by crazy bitch and Donny, Jase and I are extra keen to regroup with Elliot. Strength in numbers, and all that.
Gypsy Brothers: The Complete Series Page 60
