While he was certain they’d come after him, he reasoned his lead was too great for them to catch him before he accomplished what he’d set out to do. They’d have to wait for Daniel to recover - something that wouldn’t happen anytime soon - and somehow figure out how to fit all six of them into the little Prius.
Feeling confident, he reached for one of the bags of beef jerky on the passenger seat. He tore it open and took a piece out. Stuffing it in his mouth, he chewed on it as he relaxed in his seat, looking at the road ahead. His plan was working, and though he was far from being done, so far everything had worked in his favor.
The girl in the back seat moved around violently again, the t-shirt in her mouth muffling her crying protests as she struggled to free herself.
“Give it up, you little shit,” he said through the piece of dried meat he chewed. Keeping his eyes on the road, he reached for the bottle of water in the cup holder between the two front seats.
His hand mistakenly found the tactical radio instead.
‘Yeah, probably time,’ he decided. Grabbing the bottle of water, he took a quick swig, clearing the bits of meat from his mouth. Setting the bottle of water back in its place, he picked up the radio and brought it up in front of him. Leaning it against the steering wheel, he turned the device on, then selected the ‘Emergency - All Channels’ setting.
Pausing for a moment, he considered his words. He knew what he wanted to say, but he wanted to say it clearly and concisely. After a few minutes, he nodded to himself and keyed the mic.
“San Francisco Protective Zone, come in.”
He waited for a response, keeping his eyes on the road as he drove. This would be a one way conversation.
Twenty seconds later, a voice came through the radio’s speaker.
“This is San Francisco Protective Zone Control, over.”
Grinning, he brought the radio back up in front of his mouth.
“Listen closely, San Francisco. I’ve got what you want,” he said, brimming with confidence.
The voice on the other end hesitated, then said, “Station calling, request you repeat your last, over.”
Reilley felt his blood pressure rise at the other person’s words. Incompetence wasn’t something he was used to accepting.
“I said, I’ve got what you want, San Francisco. I’ve got someone who’s immune. Now put someone on the line who’s got a fucking clue!”
“Standby.”
‘Son of a…’ Reilley shook his head in frustration.
A woman’s voice replaced the previous one on the radio. “Station calling, this is Lieutenant Colonel Woodworth. Request you identify yourself and state your purpose.”
Reilley pulled the mic away momentarily as he thought about the woman’s demand. He did need a name, a moniker of sorts, that he could use to identify himself when speaking to them. After a moment’s thought, it came to him.
Smirking, Reilley keyed the mic again. “Call me Hermes,” he said smugly.
“Say again?” The woman’s voice asked, incredulity in her voice.
“Hermes, Lieutenant. If you don’t understand, look it up.”
“I - ”
“Shut up and listen, Lieutenant. I’ve got a girl, a little Mexican girl here who’s immune. I’ll bring her to you, but you’re gonna have to pay if you want her.” Satisfied, he lowered the radio and waited.
As expected, there was a long pause before the woman responded. “Sir, what do you want?”
Reilley smiled. ‘Sir, I like that,’ he thought to himself before speaking into the radio again. “I’ll tell you what I don’t want, and that’s money. It’s worthless now, Lieutenant. The government’s going to pay me in gold.”
“We don’t have gold here, sir. This is a Protective Zone. We’re set up to provide medical attention and physical security.”
“Bullshit. You’re in San Francisco. There’s a shitload of banks there. Get the gold. I want a hundred pounds.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible, Sir.”
“Find a fucking way. I’ll be there sometime tomorrow afternoon.”
CHAPTER FIFTY
“San Francisco Protective Zone, come in.”
“This is San Francisco Protective Zone Control, over.”
“Listen closely, San Francisco. I’ve got what you want.”
“Station calling, request you repeat your last, over.”
“I said, I’ve got what you want, San Francisco. I’ve got someone who’s immune. Now put someone on the line who’s got a fucking clue!”
“Standby.”
“Station calling, this is Lieutenant Colonel Woodworth. Request you identify yourself and state your purpose.”
“Listen to me, Lieutenant. I’ve got a girl, a little Mexican girl here who’s immune. I’ll bring her to you, but you’re gonna have to pay if you want her.”
“Sir, how much money do you want?”
“I don’t want money, Lieutenant. The government’s going to pay me in gold.”
“We don’t have gold here, sir. This is a Protective Zone. We’re set up to provide medical attention and physical security.”
“Bullshit. You’re in San Francisco. There’s a shitload of banks there. Get the gold. I want a hundred pounds.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible, Sir.”
“Find a fucking way. I’ll be there in two days.”
Smiling, The Scorpion extracted herself from the Humvee, her mind working rapidly as she began formulating a plan.
There was no way that fucker was going to make it through her territory with something that valuable.
Daniel, Serafina, Ashley, and Brenna stared at the radio in disbelief.
“Fuck…” Ashley muttered before catching herself and slapping her hand over her mouth.
Ignoring her, Daniel stared at the radio. After a moment, he shook his head.
“He just told a shitload of people where he’s going and what he’s going to do. Now that they know Isabella is immune, they’ll want to take her for the same purpose. He just put her life in danger.” Looking down at the table he shook his head before adding, “And Logan is following him.”
“And Logan has no idea…” Serafina finished.
Daniel nodded. Looking around the table, his eyes met each of theirs before he spoke. “We’ve gotta get there.”
“Stupid fuck,” Serrano said from the chair near the window.
Sarah looked up at the SEAL, her eyes questioning.
“Whoever the fuck he is, he just put a big ass target on his back, and by doing so, put one on the girl’s back, too.”
“Oh no…”
“Yeah,” Serrano said, shaking his head. “He went out on all channels, so anyone who has one of these radios and had it on heard his message. Now they know where he’s going and what he has. They’ll want the girl.”
Looking towards the kitchen table where her own children sat, quietly eating Pop Tarts, Sarah’s heart raced at the thought of people trying to take them. “What can we do?”
Movement behind her made her look back at Serrano. The man was already on his feet and pulling his pack on.
“We find them first.”
The fork shook in his hand as rage ran through Sommer’s body. Breathing heavily through his nose as he struggled to control himself, it quickly became too much. He slammed his fist down on the table, rattling the dishes and cups that sat on its surface.
“We cannot let this happen!” He screamed, startling the men around him.
Surviving Rage | Book 3 Page 39
