by Wylder Stone
“Help? By kidnapping my girl and kid?”
“I don’t have a kid, dammit! Do you think I’m stupid? Do you think I’d just come to town and knock on your door?”
“I’m losing patience, Mark. You aren’t getting out of here, so give it up.”
“I took Trista for this reason. You probably have, what, a couple of dozen barrels on me right now? I know your brothers are here, so that’s at least four. I know your local law has a damn army at play.”
“Well, we weren’t bringing water balloons to the party.”
“I have the gun at her shoulder, Owen, not her head. Doesn’t that tell you something? Man, I know I’m the kill shot – shoot on sight. Trista is just leverage so you’ll actually listen. You didn’t know Cesar as well as you thought you did. Neither did she,” Mark said, nodding to Trista.
“I’m about two seconds from pulling this trigger and ending you. You better give me a reason not to.”
“Owen, I’m not the one doing all that shit. I’m trying to protect you…and her.” Mark nodded to Trista again, trying to get Owen to listen. “He’s coming for you, all of you, Owen. I’m trying to stop him. No more bodies, man… No more bodies for that family.”
“Who, Mark? Who are you talking about? Quit speaking in code and spit it out, dammit.”
A thunderous clap rang out, filling the air, and Mark fell to the ground, taking Trista with him. Gunfire.
17
Out from the shadows walked a man who provoked a fearful gasp from Trista, causing her to quickly scoot backward from where she landed on the ground, desperate to get away from him. Mark sat up in front of her, protecting her with his gun, aimed at the ghost standing before him – Cesar Perez.
Or was it?
Trista squinted her eyes to see him better while furrowing her brow in confusion. Her voice was shaky and full of terror. “How? How are you…?”
“It’s not him. It’s not who you think!” Mark shouted, staring down their enemy. “This is what I was trying to tell you, dammit.”
“Oh, shut up already,” the man seethed through angry gritted teeth. He fired at Mark again, hitting his leg.
Mark continued to protect Trista, putting himself between her and the man while writhing in pain. The man walked closer into the light cast by the rising moon and that which still radiated from the broken-down cabin behind them. Someone was next to him, still shadowed and hard to see, but her identity unmistakable.
With a sharp glare, Troy tilted his head, shaking it in disbelief when he saw her. His aim quickly landed on her. “Oh, you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Estella? What’s going on?” Trista asked. Then it dawned on her. She knew exactly why Estella was there. Trista began to vigorously shake her head in disbelief. “No. No, not you! Mason…”
“Shut up!” the familiar man yelled once again, inciting a level of fear in Trista she’d never felt. “Do I need to shoot both of you?”
Despite the pain and massive blood loss, Mark pulled himself to the broken-down porch and propped himself against the busted railing to provide a better shield for Trista. Knowing she was a target, Mark was clearly willing to take her bullet. He served as a distraction to allow Owen and his team to set themselves up for a takedown of the Cesar look-alike.
“Estella!” the man yelled, gesturing toward Trista and Mark, to which Estella aimed her weapon at them while the look-alike pointed his weapon at Owen.
Oddly, Estella looked uneasy, her expression pleading as she looked back and forth between Mark and Trista, then at Troy, and back again. Something was odd about Estella’s presence and the way she was holding her gun on them. An unease…this wasn’t in her nature, yet here Estella was, staring down a barrel at people who thought she was a friend.
When the man began to talk, addressing Owen, Troy pulled a hard aim on Cesar’s ghost. The familiar stranger was the real threat here, and his weapon was targeting his brother. He wouldn’t let this criminal get a shot off. Troy would take the bullet for his brother first.
“I’m sorry about your men, Agent Force.” His accent was thick in anger, also like Cesar, but who was he? Cesar was…dead. “They were in my way, so I got rid of them. Didn’t want to miss the reunion.”
“Who the hell are you, and where is Mason?” Owen asked in a low anger-filled timbre.
“Oh, our brother?” the man said nonchalantly, waving his free hand between himself and Estella, his gun still aimed at Owen. “He’s safe. We mean no harm to him. In fact, he’s why we’re here. To take him home.”
Terror flooded Trista. The confusion the man’s testament left amplified it tenfold. A bewildered look danced in Trista’s eyes as she whispered, “What? Brother?”
The evil man, who still hadn’t been named or fully identified, smiled and let out an amused chuckle. “Ahhh, that’s right. You’re piecing it together now, aren’t you?”
His voice switched to a high-pitched, mocking tone as the crazed look-alike made fun of Trista’s assumed thought process while his free hand laid against his cheek in an exaggerated display. “Brother? Oh my, that means he’s…”
Before the man could finish his charade, Owen beat him to the punch, finishing the derisive taunting act. “Cesar’s son, too…”
“Ding, ding, ding. You’re smarter than you look, Agent,” the man said, with one finger in the air and an amused tone. “I always thought you were just a big idiot under all that muscle. Well, I guess I can be wrong once in a while.”
A boisterous laugh full of evil intention escaped the man, him being the only one impressed with his performance. “Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Cesar Perez…after my father!”
Owen’s anger turned to rage. “Why are you here? What the hell do you want?”
A smarmy grin stretched across Junior’s face. “Just our brother.”
“Not going to happen,” Owen quickly fired back. “Next?”
“Oh, but it is, Agent. Do I still have to call you that, or can I just call you Owen or maybe dude?” His tone was mocking and full of confidence, his cocky bravado raking Owen’s nerves. “You see, you took something from me – from us…our father!”
With an unflappable shrug, young Cesar paced slightly, making his case as if it were no big deal and simple. “We’re here to settle the score and take something from you.”
He pointed at Trista with his gun, the nonchalant demeanor back to anger-filled. “Our father got bored and found a trashy little plaything. That would be you, Trista. You consumed all of his time. It destroyed our mother, especially when the whore – you again, Trista – got pregnant. We saw him even less then. Well, until Father got bored with you. You couldn’t just leave things alone. You were so hungry for attention, you ended up getting him killed. That’s why you have to die. See how that works? I believe they say, an eye for an eye.”
“Your father was a murderer and a real asshole. He got himself killed,” Owen fired back, drawing the unstable man’s attention back to him and away from Trista.
“Ooooh, ssshhhh…we mustn’t speak ill of the dead, Owen,” he mocked, his tone ever-changing, reflecting just how unstable he was.
Junior went on, “Just as you have people, I too have people. I inherited my father’s legacy, his connections, his power. My reach is immeasurable and something you completely overlooked. You see, I was a surprise, as was my twin sister here. You only know about us because I want you to know. I outsmart you, outnumber you, and I’m just better looking.”
From an egotistical presence, Cesar Junior switched to deep-seated anger and hate, his words loaded with threatening despair. “Mason didn’t get to know our father, and that’s your fault, Trista. This is his legacy too, his empire, his power to have. So we’re taking him.”
“No. No, you can’t take him. Please…” Trista cried, her voice dropping to a whisper. “He’s just a little boy. A sweet little boy.”
“We’ll raise him as our father would have – teach him his ways, give Ma
son the life we were given. Don’t worry, Force, you won’t have to hunt him down someday – though you would want to after he becomes who he is destined to be.” The man shrugged again. “You’ll be dead soon – not your problem.”
Mark interrupted the man’s monologue, his voice angry and becoming labored. “You’re not taking him. You’re not going anywhere, Junior.”
A quick jerk to his right and young Cesar turned his gun on Mark. “Aren’t you dead yet? I am taking him. In fact, he’s already gone. While you’ve all been on this little hunt and listening to me talk, he’s been in a car, driving far from here.”
Junior paused to look at his watch and bobbed his head from side to side. “Actually, he’s probably on the jet right now, waiting to take off. If you follow us or harm us, he dies. If we don’t show up within twenty-four hours of his arrival to his destination…ouch. Don’t worry, he won’t feel a thing.”
“Now, here’s what happens next.” He quickly switched his aim to Trista and fired.
Mark moved swiftly to his right and absorbed the shot meant for her, right in his shoulder, before falling in her lap. Trista sobbed and held the dying man in her arms as he bled out. He tried to help her. In fact, he saved her.
Junior rolled his eyes and shook his head at the inconvenience Mark’s heroic act created. “What is with you people? That bullet was meant for her. You idiot. Like I was saying, you die, eventually, when people stop taking your damn bullets. Then you come with us, Owen. You’re the insurance policy. We walk out of here unscathed. No one follows because you already know the consequence for interference – Mason dies.”
“Oh, Mark.” Young Cesar shook his head, impressed with himself. “Now that was brilliant. My best idea yet. I made a few calls and got your buddy here out of prison. It was that easy. See what I mean about the power I have? Incredible! I knew he’d eventually double-cross me, but Mark made for a really nice distraction for you.”
Trista sat taller, blood mixed with tears running down her face. “You’re right. You got everything from your father.”
Owen tried to stop her. He wanted the attention off her and on himself while they defused the situation. This man was insane, mentally spent, not the kind of criminal mind you want to provoke. “Trista…”
But she went on, “His cold soul and evil presence. You’re nothing but a murdering coward who stands behind power that only comes from fear. Like father, like son. You’re truly the spawn of Satan.”
Without warning, Cesar got another shot off, hitting Trista in the shoulder. “Shut up, bitch. Do…not…speak ill of the dead. What’s so hard about that for you people? Never speak of my father again!”
Terror washed over Owen at the sight of Trista being shot. Without hesitation, his weapon perfectly aimed at Cesar with a kill shot. He went for the trigger, but another shot rang out before Owen could squeeze.
“Hold your fire!” Jackson yelled.
The air went still and quiet as time ticked by, bit by bit, the scene unfolding slowly. Cesar’s eyes were wide with surprise, mouth falling open in shock and unable to gasp for air as it had been knocked from him upon impact. His hand fell from his chest, revealing a rapidly growing bloodstain. He looked down and saw it for himself, then fell to the ground with a loud thump, his body in a heap. When he fell, his shooter was revealed, gun still directed toward him. Estella.
Where planned and methodical once reigned, now stood chaos and confusion as Estella stood over her brother’s dying body as his accomplice. Or was she?
“Sister?” Cesar said, gasping and choking. He was confused and frightened as his body began to shake. “I don’t understand.”
“Enough! Enough, Junior! You’re right. Mason is safe. Where you can’t get him!” Estella walked around him and kicked his gun in Owen’s direction. Derek scooped it up and dismantled it in one quick motion.
“You worshipped a monster and became him.” Estella’s voice shook as she delivered her truth, eyes filling with tears. “You let power, greed, and money define you, fuel you! And revenge? It rules you and controls you.”
Owen interrupted, anxious to get answers, unsure if Estella was completely sane or not. “Estella, where is Mason?”
She turned to him with a soft expression, her tone sincere. “He is safe, I promise you. Mason has no idea what’s going on. He thinks we are playing a game of hide-and-seek. I am not a threat to any of you, Owen. I will take you to him. I promise.”
Turning her attention back to her brother, Estella finished sharing what would be the final words he heard. The team surrounded them, trying to decide if she was friend or foe, enemy or the ally Estella claimed to be.
“Mason is the good part of our father and of his mother.” She looked at Trista and smiled, tears now overflowing. “He will stay that way. Mason deserves better than what we had – what ruined us and corrupted you. You didn’t want him. You wanted to avenge a man who doesn’t deserve the hero worship you grant him.”
Cesar began to choke on his own blood, shaking in equal parts shock and fear as death settled in. Estella fell to her knees, her tears rapidly flowing as her sobs tried to overtake her words.
“I didn’t want it to come to this, but like father, there was no stopping you. It’s time to end your reach, take away your power, and bury the legacy that reached from the grave, the one you lived for, once and for all. It all ends with you.”
Sweetly wiping a tear from Cesar’s cheek in a sisterly act, Estella finished her painful confession. “While you thought you were playing Mark, using him, I was playing you, feeding Mark information so he could help protect everyone from you.”
“I will always protect Mason, even if it means I have to live knowing I had to kill one brother to save the other. I will find peace in knowing the blood on my hands was to make sure Mason never has any on his.” Estella kissed her own hand and placed it on her brother’s forehead. “I guess I learned a thing or two from Father, too.”
Estella’s attention turned to Owen. “Mark was being honest. He was here with good intentions. I chose Mark to help because I knew he would know how to better than anyone. I will tell you everything. There are more people out there who want to hurt you with plans in place. I will help you stop this madness.”
She tossed her weapon on the ground toward the crowd that had formed in front of her and put her hands in the air as Estella took to her feet. Nobody was quick to move. In all of their years and experience, none had encountered this type of ending.
It was clear at that point that Estella wasn’t a threat, just as she said, and that she was on their side. But until they sorted details and regained control of the situation, they had to err on the side of caution and follow protocol.
Tayler approached her, holding up handcuffs. “I’m sorry, but I have to…”
Estella shook her head and offered a sweet smile. “It’s okay, Tayler. I understand. You have my full cooperation.”
When she turned to put her hands behind her back, Tayler stopped her, cuffing her wrists in front of her so Estella would be more comfortable.
18
Owen raced to Trista’s side, assessing her shoulder wound. “You’re going to be okay. It looks clean. Just a good graze. I promise we’ll get Mason back. Estella said he was safe.”
“I believe her. She was always quite fond of Mason. He adores Estella, and I understand why now.” Trista smiled rather than cried. A sense of relief in knowing this was finally over settled within her.
Forever could finally begin. Owen was living in the same moment of realization. It was finally their time. Before Owen could get her off the ground and to the incoming EMTs, Mark’s hand grabbed his arm. He had been floating in and out of consciousness and now struggled to breathe.
“Please don’t tell my wife and the kids. They’ve been through enough,” Mark said, speaking of his estranged family. “They deserve a fresh start. There will be a reward for my capture. It’s why I agreed to this. Please…”
Owen nod
ded, not needing further explanation. Mark escaped, knowing he would never go back, and his days were numbered. It was his way of taking care of them financially. “They will be taken care of, I promise you that. You did the right thing, man.”
Mark smiled ever so briefly before taking his last breath. Owen ran his hand over his eyes to close them, granting Mark the peace he now deserved. “Goodbye, brother.”
A loud snapping branch had all weapons drawn on whatever was moving in from the south. With her weapon drawn, Genevieve came into view, wearing head-to-toe black with her contrasting blond hair pulled back in a tight ponytail. This was the side of Genevieve Trista suspected lived under that cardigan – this was Vivi.
She holstered her weapon when she walked in and saw the situation defused. “Oh, like you’d shoot me.”
Jackson was the first to speak up, looking her up and down. “Vivi? What are you doing here?”
“Yeah. Marching in like that?” James added. “You could’ve been killed!”
“Please. I’ve been here for twenty minutes and saw the whole thing. Me, shot? You guys taught me better than that.”
“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here,” Owen replied with a half-cocked brow.
“She called me.” Genevieve nodded to Estella, who was being led to a squad car by Tayler.
“So a potential psychopath calls,” James reproved, looking to be sure Estella was out of earshot, “and you just answer? Didn’t think to call any of us?”
“She said not to because it was too dangerous. Estella worried you would come to me and blow the plan.” Genevieve shrugged as though this banter was over something as simple as choosing an ice cream flavor.
James was getting hot. “What plan?”
“Mason,” Vivi quickly replied. “I have Mason. Well, had Mason.”
In a small voice, Trista started to question whether Vivi was a threat. Her answers were evasive and taunting. Was that all for James or because she was now their next obstacle? “Vivi?”
