by Taylor Hart
Both of them pulled Frank into them.
“What…how?” Frank was dumbfounded, but accepted the hugs his friends were giving him.
Troy evaluated his eye. “Hmph,” he said, exchanging angry glances with Sam.
“How did you guys get here?” Sam asked, mystified and grateful.
Herb grunted. “Are you kidding me? I know people.”
Sam knew that both of them knew people. He wouldn’t underestimate their connections. “Then what’s the plan for getting us out of the country?”
“We got black hawks coming.” Troy glanced around. “Even as we speak, they’re making their way toward us.” He winked at Sam. “You and I had the same idea.”
Sam turned in the other direction and saw another fire raging. His pulse spiked. “We’ve got to get Alexa out now!” He started running toward the house.
“Bring her here!” Troy yelled to him. “This is where the helicopter is going to touch down."
Sam ran as hard as he could back to the house, wondering how he would distract the guards and get through Marco and Victor to get to Alexa. He mentally cursed the training that hadn’t prepared him for this but never considered leaving without her. Even if it was the stupidest thing to do, Sam was going back in for her.
He reasoned that with the proper motivation men would do almost anything. Alexa was definitely the proper motivation. He’d heard stories about men doing stupid, brave things. He’d heard stories about God or providence showing up at just the right moment to make sure the right side won. There was no doubt in his mind that it was no coincidence Troy and Herb had shown up at just the right moment. He knew it was divine.
If that alone didn’t convince him some unknown force was on his side, when he saw all of the guards take off toward the field and the people pouring out of the house, he had more proof.
But the thing that made it unquestionable to him that God was on his side was when he opened the door to go into the house and the man he only knew from pictures, the one who’d taken out Frank’s eye, ran right into him.
Victor Santiago may have had the home-field advantage, but he was just as surprised as Sam and far less trained and prepared.
In one motion, Sam took him by the shirt and shoved him down to the ground. Call it adrenaline, call it super strength, but Sam felt like he could rip him apart with one punch.
He was about to give him that punch when he heard the words. “Wait, Sam! He’s mine.”
Turning back, he saw a very out of breath Frank following him. Herb and Troy flanked him.
Sam stood, keeping his foot across Victor’s face.
Frank held out a gun to Sam, then took another one from Troy. “You don’t think you’re the only one that gets to have all the fun today, do you?”
It was heartening to say the least to see Frank somewhat back to his old self. He knew the injury would take a long time to heal, and Frank definitely needed medical attention, but Sam also knew how important a fighting spirit was to recovery.
He nodded to the men and took the gun, running into the living room and searching frantically for Lex.
“That way!” Frank yelled out.
Sam turned back and saw Frank pointing down a hallway.
Sam thought running into Victor was lucky, but he had also expected to see Marco running toward the fields. After all, cocaine was the livelihood of the cartel. If they lost their crop, the Santiago family would be ruined. Based on his best estimate after seeing the fires that Troy and Herb had started, he wouldn’t be surprised if they already were. The other cartel families would stomp Victor out quickly, take over the land, and absorb the workers. The drug business was brutal whether you were scraping your way to the top or already there.
When Sam rounded the corner to the next room, he knew that running into Victor was not the only divine intervention he was going to have today.
In fact, later, he would describe this moment as the most divine intervention of his entire life.
Chapter 14
Alexa had recreated those three minutes with Dave so many times she couldn’t count them. She’d quit counting. Between the re-living it and her nightmares, Alexa had told the therapist years ago that she wished she could take some pill to erase that night. To erase all of it.
She’d had to face the fact that you couldn’t erase life. The good, the bad, the wonderful, the horrible. How many science fiction movies had been made about this exact topic? How many people wished they could just block something? How many people’s minds had unwillingly blocked something because it was that tragic, that horrible?
Looking up into Marco’s face at this moment reminded Alexa that she would always have to remember this. She would always have to live with it. Despite her determination, she couldn’t stop the tears. She felt scared, frantic, cornered. Marco’s arm held both of her arms in place over her chest, and his other hand was trying to shimmy her pants down. She did the only thing she could think to do. She detached herself from the moment.
In therapy, her doctor had told her that some women who were molested at a young age would actually visualize themselves out of their bodies. Every part of her trembled, and she thought about taking her conscience out of her body. She prayed she could just die in this moment.
Then she heard the click of the gun.
Her eyes flashed open and met the most beautiful eyes that she’d ever known. They belonged to the man she loved.
Marco quickly moved off of her, reaching behind his back for his gun.
The first shot hit his chest, and he stumbled back.
Alexa righted herself and looked wildly between the two of them.
Marco kept reaching and the second shot hit Marco’s shoulder.
Sam moved forward. “I told you that we’d have a chance to talk later. Welcome to later.”
Marco fell to the floor, and Sam kicked him squarely in the face when he tried to get his gun again.
Alexa noticed that Sam hadn’t kicked him hard enough to knock him out. She also noticed that he hadn’t shot him in the head. She got off the bed and rushed to Sam’s side.
He pulled her into him with one arm, keeping the gun trained on Marco’s head. “Are you okay?”
At this moment she didn’t care that Sam had a complex and always wanted to save people. She didn’t care that he was overprotective. She didn’t care about anything except the fact that he was a good man. That he loved her. She’d dragged him into all of this, and he’d done the only thing he knew how to do…save her again.
Her hands trembled, and silent tears poured down her face, but she nodded that she was okay.
They both stared down at Marco, who was in no shape to continue to fight.
Sam pulled her into him, taking his foot off of Marco. He kissed her lips quickly. “It’s okay.”
She nodded, and he turned back to Marco. “We need to have a chat.”
Chapter 15
Part of the responsibility of Sam’s job, the part that Sam felt most acutely aware of was that line between right and wrong. It was a line that any agent, FBI, CIA, any kind of military man had to ride every day. The line that justified pulling the trigger or a fair trial.
He’d always erred on the side of fair trial. He’d been teased about that by Dave, and he hadn’t cared one bit. He never wanted to stand in front of his maker and doubt how he would be judged.
But for this man, he was judge and jury.
Marco let out a light laugh.
Sam leaned down, inspecting the two gun wounds. Neither of them had hit main arteries, so that would give him time. “I think it’s interesting that you’re laughing, Marco.”
Marco shook his head and more laughter came out. “You got me, FBI. You got me, Mr. Smith.” He spat the words and laughed, referring to the first time he’d met Marco and lied to him about being Mr. Smith.
Sam leaned forward, looking into the dark brown eyes of this deranged lunatic. “You know you’ve made your own bed.”
Marco l
aughed. “Like your John Wayne. Americans are always the cowboys. They always think they are right. But they are idiots.” He spat out.
Easily, Sam pushed the top of his foot into Marco’s windpipe. “What did you say?”
He held it there for a few seconds and then let up. Unlike the past week of hell and nerves, at this moment, Sam felt cooler and calmer than he’d ever felt. His mind was clear, calculated, controlled. He’d always been good under pressure. More than anything else, that’s why he’d been recruited by the FBI after college. It did help that his brother was an agent, but Sam knew he held his own.
It didn’t matter that they were in Colombia or that the whole place was burning to the ground. All that mattered was this moment. Looking into Marco’s eyes and having him know that he could never torture Alexa or Frank ever again.
For this moment, it had all been worth it. Maybe that would sound insane to some, but he meant it. He’d never been one to believe that victory came without sacrifice. He understood that to win a war there would be blood, but this war was over, and he would enjoy this last part. “You like to control things, Mr. Hernandez.” He used the same tone that Marco had used to call him Mr. Smith.
“We are not so different,” Marco whispered, lifting a hand and trying to reach for his throat.
Sam shot him in the hand.
“Gahh!” Marco howled, trying to sit up again.
Blood was splattered all over the floor. Sam got down on his haunches, investigating the finger that had come off. “Darn, that’s gonna bleed pretty bad.”
Marco threw his head back and laughed.
This ticked Sam off. He didn’t like his torturing being laughed at. He calmed himself before continuing. “I wonder how much blood came out when you plucked out Frank’s eye? Did you enjoy it?”
Instantly the laughter stopped, and Sam watched as Marco turned a remorseful face toward Alexa. “I never wanted to do that,” he whispered.
“Ahh?” Sam leaned in. “How touching. You never wanted to pluck the eye out of Alexa’s father. That’s great. Yeah. Maybe you could send a card. Personalize it. Oh, that’s right, you don’t like to send subtle messages, do you? You like to take people.” He kicked Marco in the ribs. “You like to take people and inject mind-altering drugs into them.” He kicked him again, harder this time. He couldn’t lie. It felt good—really good to finally use Marco Hernandez as a target for all his anger.
“Arg!” Marco puffed out.
“Sam.”
Sam turned back to Alexa. Her eyes were wide, and her hands covered her mouth. “Stop, Sam. Just…stop this.”
At first Sam didn’t register that Alexa might be afraid. That she might be wondering if Sam had lost it.
No. That didn’t occur to him. The only thing that occurred to him was that Marco would never be able to hurt her again.
Sam looked back to Marco, logically wondering what else he could get in before he did the clean shot to the brain. He didn’t know how long they had until the helicopter would come, but he did need to make sure Frank and the guys were there, too.
“We’re not that different, Mr. Smith. You are torturing me.”
Kicking him again, Sam laughed. He actually laughed. It wasn’t a happy laugh, and it sounded weird, even to him. He bent down. “Okay, please, tell me how we’re the same.”
“You may not admit this, but you like it. You…need it. You need to punish people for doing the wrong thing.”
Sam didn’t respond. He wouldn’t get caught up in Marco’s mental games. He’d witnessed enough of those for a lifetime. “Hmm, hmm. Yep. We’re exactly alike. You hurt innocent people. I hurt people that actually deserve it.”
Marco didn’t speak for a minute, trying to swallow. His eyes flashed back to Sam. “It’s not about the killing… It’s about liking it.”
This did strike a small chord, but Sam ignored it.
“And her.” Marco looked at Alexa. “The same woman loved both of us. Do you ever wonder why?”
Although it had been a mystery to Sam what Alexa had seen in Marco, he’d refused to judge her after seeing the hardship she’d endured at the hands of his brother.
“She loved me,” Marco insisted.
“No, I didn’t,” Alex said softly, “The man I loved was not…you.”
“Yes.” Marco tried to rise, and Sam put his foot back on his chest, easing the pressure onto the bullet wound.
“No,” Sam insisted. He held his foot there, and then he swiftly pulled it back. They didn’t have any more time for this.
He looked out the large window at the black smoke in the sky. “Lex, we gotta go.”
Without warning, Marco reared up, putting Sam off balance by twisting his leg and pulling him down.
Sam dropped the gun as he went to the floor.
Marco was quick, using his bloody hand to try to jam his fingers into Sam’s eyes.
Sam held onto Marco and then tried to roll them both. But Marco had him beat in shear size. It did deter the finger in the eyes, and Sam kneed him in the crotch as hard as he could.
“Ahh!” But Marco kept his position on top of Sam. “Alexa is mine.” Marco’s breath was heavy against Sam’s face. “She will always be mine.”
Sam kneed him, again, getting better position to roll both of them.
Out of nowhere, Alexa kicked Marco in the head. “I’ll never be yours.”
Sam took the opportunity and rolled both of them, searching for the gun.
“Move Sam!”
Sam turned and found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. He ducked and rolled.
The sound of the gun going off, and the look of shock as the bullet entered Marco’s head was a scene Sam would never forget.
Chapter 16
Alexa knew she must be in shock. As the gun fell out of her hand, she felt the lynch pin inside of her fall out too. Her knees went weak, and the next thing she knew Sam had retrieved the gun and put his arm around her, moving her out of the room, down the hall, and out the side door. “My father.” It was all she could say or think about. She wasn’t leaving if she didn’t have him. She would rather die in this place than live and know that her father was sitting in some basement, bleeding out.
The sound of a helicopter descending touched the edges of her mind, and she saw some men huddled next to the fence.
“We got him.” Sam kept her moving, releasing her shoulders and tugging her into a jog. He grinned back at her. “We got him, Lex. He’s safe. We’re all going to get in this helicopter and get out of here!”
His words roused her. Her mind started to reconnect with her body. She ran harder, seeing her father and Herb and Troy standing next to the helicopter. A laugh ripped out of her, and more tears filled her eyes.
Frank moved away from his friends and started jogging to her. “Alexa!”
They both seemed to fall into each other, and she kissed the side of his face, so grateful he was alive and so heartbroken at the bandage over his eye. “Daddy!” She’d never felt so much like a little girl as she did at this moment.
Sam touched her back. “We’ve got to go.” He gestured for them to get into the helicopter, holding the gun posed to shoot and looking from side to side.
They rushed onto the helicopter, and she stayed glued to her father’s side. At the last second, before the helicopter took off, more men emerged from the cocaine fields. They were wearing camo and cocaine leaves just like Herb and Troy, but these guys were younger.
Sam grinned at them and slapped each of them on the back as they got onto the helicopter. “Nice job, boys!”
One of the younger soldiers lifted his weapon into the air. “Blackhawks!” he yelled.
“Blackhawks!” they all echoed.
As the helicopter took off, Alexa looked down and let out a final sigh.
Marco Hernandez was out of their lives.
For good.
Chapter 17
One Week Later
Alexa sat next to her father’s hospital
bed. They’d been flown to Denver when they’d gotten back into the country and taken to one of the premiere hospitals for eye repair and transplants.
Her dad had opted not to try to get a real eye, saying that he was old and someone younger with more to do in life could use it more than him. Instead, he’d gotten a glass eye put in. Now she was waiting for him to wake up.
Strangely, she felt calm.
It was the first time she had felt truly calm since Sam came back into her life and she realized she was living a lie.
Her phone buzzed, and she saw a text message from her assistant Mary back in San Francisco telling her that she had landed them a new client.
She smiled, thinking that Mary had done more than keep the business afloat while she and Sam had “been on vacation.”
Her smile widened, thinking about Sam.
They’d been staying at his parents’ house. Technically they had separate rooms, but they spent a lot of nights in each other’s arms.
The FBI had pulled Sam in and been scrambling to figure out how they’d been so compromised.
Sam had reassured her that he was done.
They hadn’t talked about the future, but no matter what, she knew he was her future. She could feel it in every part of her. It just…was. There was no doubting it anymore.
He hadn’t directly asked her when they would move back to San Francisco, but he dropped little hints about it. He said things like “when you get back to your business” or “you better keep Mary around forever.”
The funny thing was that she wasn’t sure she wanted to get back to that. She didn’t even feel like the same person anymore.
She didn’t think she could care enough about things like representing companies who just wanted to get out of their problems. There was no longer any passion inside her for that business.
She wanted, she yearned, to do something that had meaning. Something that made her feel… Suddenly it was like a light bulb turning on. She understood what she wanted. It was something that made her feel the same way working for the FBI made Sam feel.
