Raw Talent

by Debra Webb

  The sound of a weapon discharging exploded in the air.

  Gabrielle’s mouth dropped open and it was all she could do not to scream.

  He’d killed her.

  The man with the gun had shot his girlfriend.

  He ordered the boys to get into his truck.

  For ten, maybe twenty seconds, Gabrielle couldn’t move. Her body felt paralyzed by what she’d seen. None of her training had adequately prepared her for this.

  By the time she’d pulled it back together. the truck was driving out through the front gate.

  She swore and rushed toward the two downed victims.

  The man was dead for sure.

  The woman gurgled and frantically flung one arm.

  Damn.

  Gabrielle surveyed the damage. The bullet hole in her abdomen was pouring blood. The one in her chest was a little too far to the right to have hit her heart, but maybe a lung. Gabrielle shook her head. How the hell did she know?

  She needed help.

  How did she get an ambulance way out here?

  Her gaze zeroed in on the blood pooling on the ground around the woman’s waist. Gabrielle swallowed hard. This girl wasn’t going to make it.

  Gabrielle pressed her left hand over the gut wound since it appeared to be the worst and tried to staunch the flow. “How do I call for help?” she asked the woman who still writhed desperately.

  A dark brown gaze collided with Gabrielle’s. “Stop…him…” The words were scarcely a breath of choking sound.

  Gabrielle glanced toward the gate. “I don’t…”

  Icy fingers wrapped around her wrist with surprising strength. Gabrielle’s gaze jerked back to the woman.

  “I am…dying…” she gasped. “Help…the children.”

  Her voice was barely audible now.

  What did she do? Let the woman die or go after the children?

  Gabrielle’s heart pounded so fiercely she couldn’t think.

  “Take the…chi-children and hide…”

  “What?” Hide? Panic tightened around Gabrielle’s chest. What did she mean hide?

  The woman’s mouth worked but no words came out.

  “Oh, God.” Gabrielle lowered her head closer to the woman’s face. Strained to make out her words. “I don’t understand. What do you want me to do?”

  “Hide…the children…more bad men will come…”

  Gabrielle reared back at the warning. “Your friend isn’t alone in this?”

  “…many more will come…”

  The woman stilled. Her eyes lost their desperate appeal.

  Gabrielle’s breath caught. She stared at the wounds that still oozed blood, but the force was much less now.

  “Look, lady, I don’t know—”

  The woman remained completely, unnervingly still.

  Gabrielle felt for a pulse. Nothing. Damn! She tried to get the woman’s heart beating again, but it was no use.

  The kids.

  Dammit all to hell.

  Gabrielle glanced at the gate, then back at the woman.

  Someone had to save those kids.

  There was no one but her.

  Without taking a moment to second-guess herself, she bolted toward her Jeep.

  If Sloan’s residence was tied in with any kind of security monitoring system then maybe help was already on the way. It was too late for those two, but someone needed to know what had happened here.

  One thing was certain, if Gabrielle was going to catch up with the son of a bitch who had the kids, she had to move fast. She jumped behind the wheel of her Jeep, wiped her bloody hands on a T-shirt lying on the passenger seat and twisted the key in the ignition.

  The motor started and she released the clutch, allowing the vehicle to lurch forward. She sped out over the sandy landscape, dust flying behind her. But that was good because it was flying behind the other guy, too, and that was the only chance she had of keeping him in sight.

  The sun had almost completely set, leaving only the thinnest purple hues reaching across the barren desert in front of her.

  She couldn’t turn on her headlights. She needed to get close enough to shoot out this jerk’s tires before he noticed her approach.

  She would figure out what to do next after that.

  Chapter Four

  Gabrielle slammed on the brakes.

  The Jeep skidded to a halt and she bailed out.

  Feet wide apart, she took aim. Her heart hammered against her sternum but she ignored it. She stared down the barrel of her 9 mm at the rear tire of the kidnapper’s vehicle. Told herself she could do this. Her forefinger instinctively curled around the trigger.

  The truck abruptly swerved and slid to a halt.

  Gabrielle swore, adjusted her aim. Dammit, the truck was stopped with the passenger side facing in her direction. She could make out one of the kids….

  The shooter registered in the corner of her eye a split second before she dove for the ground.

  A series of explosions rent the air. Bullets plowed into the sand a few inches from her head.

  She rolled. Took aim again.

  A smile curled the corners of her mouth.

  “Gotcha.” She fired.

  The man screamed and scrambled out of sight behind the vehicle.

  “Dumb bastard.”

  A spray of bullets pelted the sand around her. She lunged for the cover of her Jeep. She’d been able to see some part of one leg beneath the truck. She’d hit him. Probably hurt like hell, but he wasn’t dead by a long shot.

  She studied the truck, except she couldn’t see anything now. No movement whatsoever. “Damn.” He had her at a distinct disadvantage. She couldn’t shoot anywhere near the cab for fear of hitting one of the kids.

  Where the hell was he?

  He was still behind the truck…evidently using the tires for additional cover since she couldn’t see any part of his lower anatomy beneath the vehicle chassis.

  Gabrielle scanned the darkening landscape beyond the truck. Help didn’t appear to be coming. Worse, the dying woman had said others would come. Friends of the jerk currently exchanging lead with her.

  She couldn’t just lay here and wait to see what happened. She had to make a move.

  Screaming from inside the truck cab abruptly snagged her attention. What now?

  She heard the shooter yell at the kids to shut up. Gabrielle’s nerves jangled. If he started shooting at those kids…surely he wouldn’t do that. He’d obviously had some reason for wanting to kidnap them, would likely need them alive for that purpose.

  Gabrielle took a moment to find calm. Staying alive required slowing the blood roaring through her ears. It meant being aware of the other guy at all times and not letting her emotions take control.

  The sound of wailing jerked her into forward motion. More arguing between the man and one of the boys. She had to try to reach the rear end of the truck while he was distracted.

  Too late.

  She didn’t have to see the bullets pelting the sand, the echoing sound of the weapon firing was enough. He was laying down ground fire in an attempt to hit her or to force her away from her destination. She dove for the ground.

  The truck horn blared to life. The gunshots stopped. Screaming and cursing followed.

  Gabrielle scrambled to her feet and reached the side of the truck, hunkered by the tire to listen. The man still ranted at the older boy. Gabrielle decided the boy had laid down on the horn to distract the bastard or to annoy him. Either way, she’d have to thank him later.

  Abrupt silence warned her that her enemy had figured out her latest move.

  She held her breath. Listened…leaned down to see if there was any sign of his feet and legs.

  Nothing.

  He had to be crouched on the other side of the rear driver’s side tire. Less than a dozen feet away.

  The proverbial Mexican standoff. How ironic.

  A thud had her fingers tightening on her weapon.

  She listened intently.
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  Nothing.

  She couldn’t just continue to crouch here until he came around the end of the truck after her. But then he could be waiting for her to make exactly that kind of move. Evidently was.

  Still no sound. No movement.

  Damn. What the hell did she do now? Her mini weapons training course hadn’t included anything like this.

  She looked under the truck again. Couldn’t see a damned thing.

  Hovering here and waiting for him to come after her was driving her nuts. She had to move.

  She eased quietly toward the end of the truck. Stalled there to listen.

  Not a sound.

  She peeked beneath the truck, but couldn’t see a thing in the deepening gloom. Hell, he could be waiting for dark. The sun had already dropped behind the mountains, leaving only a faint glow reaching across the desert.

  That thought propelled her into action. She moved around the end of the truck, to the far side of the tailgate. Steeled herself. Then risked a look beyond the corner…

  The shooter was on the ground. Not moving.

  Gabrielle frowned. She definitely hadn’t gotten in a lethal hit.

  His weapon was still in his hand, but he made no move to aim it toward her. Then she saw the reason for his motionlessness. Blood. Or what was likely blood. The sand around his lower body was dark with it.

  Considering his eyes were still open and he hadn’t blinked, she figured he was dead or damned close.

  She darted to his position and kicked his gun away from his hand. He didn’t move.

  He’d been crouched near the tire as she had suspected. Looked as if he’d simply fallen over. Why had he bled so profusely?

  She looked for the entry wound where she’d hit him, but it was difficult to see in the near darkness. Instead she looked for where the blood appeared to start on his clothing. Left thigh area.

  Then she knew. There was an artery in that general area. She couldn’t remember what it was called or exactly where it was, but apparently she’d hit it.

  And he’d bled to death before he’d realized how badly he was wounded.

  Damned lucky for her.

  “Get us out of here!”

  Her gaze swung to the truck and the older boy’s face. He peered out the rear window now.

  The two must have hunkered in the floor after the horn-blowing incident. Otherwise they could have seen the man lying on his side in the sand.

  Gabrielle hurried to the driver’s side door and wrenched it open.

  “Hurry, lady!” the older boy demanded. “He was meeting his friends. They’ll know something has gone wrong and head this way soon!”

  “Give me a minute,” Gabrielle snapped. Ungrateful kid. Didn’t he realize she’d just saved his butt?

  The boys’ hands were chained together. The end of the chain was also bound to the bottom of the front seat. No way he’d reached that horn with his hand. He must have done it with his foot. The console between the front bucket seats would have allowed for a reach like that.

  “I’ll need the key,” she said as she picked through the stuff in the console. The key in the ignition was alone on its ring. Shooting the chain to break it might work in the movies but she wasn’t going to risk it under the circumstances.

  “It’s in his pocket,” the older kid said. “Hurry!”

  She rushed back to where the guy lay on the ground and crouched next to him. The gun had been in his right hand so that made him right-handed. The key would likely be in that pocket, which meant rolling him over.

  Touching a dead guy ranked really low on her list of things to do in life. Unless it was Sloan, she amended. But the situation sorely limited her options.

  Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his hip, she rolled him onto his back. She shuddered but didn’t hesitate to pilfer through his right pocket. Her fingers encountered cool metal and then curled around a single key. She tugged it out of his tattered jeans and rushed back to the truck without allowing her gaze to linger on the dead guy.

  “Hurry!” the older boy shouted.

  She scowled at him, her fingers poised on the lock. “I’m doing the best I can. You wanna give it a rest?”

  He scowled right back at her. The ingrate.

  The chains fell away and she ushered them out of the truck’s back seat. “Get in my Jeep,” she ordered.

  The older boy, who was at least a couple inches taller than her, glared down at her. “Who are you? What are you doing here?”

  Before she could answer, the little boy slammed against his brother’s side and started to cry hard. He’d evidently gotten a look at the dead man on the ground and then launched himself at his older brother.

  “Just shut up and let’s get out of here,” she snapped at the older boy who still glowered at her.

  She stomped off in the direction of her Jeep. It wasn’t necessary to turn around and make sure they were following. She knew they were. She could hear the younger boy’s hiccuping sobs.

  It was a shame the kid had to see the dead guy, but it couldn’t be helped.

  When they’d loaded into her Jeep, the smaller boy in the back seat, she and the older one up front, she started the engine.

  “Better head for the mountains,” the older one told her, his voice somewhat calmer now if not friendlier.

  Gabrielle shoved the gearshift into first. “Why the mountains? Why not into town? To the police?”

  Their gazes met across the narrow expanse of darkness that separated them in the Jeep’s cramped interior. She didn’t need to see his eyes well to recognize the intensity there, his voice told her all she needed to know.

  “They’ll be coming from that direction. You don’t want to run into them. We need to hide. There’s only once place we can go where they won’t find us.”

  “The mountains, right?” she said, wondering vaguely how the hell she’d gotten caught up in this insanity.

  “I know a place where we’ll be safe. My father said if anything ever went wrong when he was away that we should go there.”

  She let off the clutch and the Jeep shot forward. “I hope you know the way.” It wasn’t as though she was from around here. She hated to break that newsflash to him, but there was no point beating around the bush. If more of those bastards were headed this way, they had to make a definite decision on which way they were going and the kid wasn’t being exactly specific.

  “I know the way,” he said, a kind of resigned determination in his voice. “You just drop us off at the foot of the mountain and let me borrow your gun and we’ll be fine.”

  Yeah, right. “I don’t think so, pal.” Did he think she was stupid? She’d need this weapon to get back out of here. Maybe she should have taken the dead guy’s gun for backup, but she hadn’t thought of it until now.

  “Then you can just drop us off and be on your way,” he snarled, but his hateful tone fell a little short. His voice quavered ever so slightly.

  “I can do that,” she retorted, refusing to let the idea that he was probably scared to death get to her. The sooner they were out of her hair, the better she’d like it. She was no babysitter. She damned sure wasn’t going to see after kids who most likely belonged to her enemy. Not that the kids deserved to be hurt because their father was a murdering lowlife, but it wasn’t her place to do any more for them than she already had. She’d risked her life as it was.

  The short journey was made in silence other than the soft sobbing in the back seat. The sound had lessened somewhat but not completely. Poor kid. He’d watched three people die today. It couldn’t be easy on him.

  She glanced at the older boy. She couldn’t really see him that well with only the aid of the dim glow from the dash lights. His profile looked hard, his jaw determined. Instead of crying like his little brother, he’d opted to be angry. Not that she could blame him. She didn’t know who the first man to die was or what relationship he had with the boys, but she’d guess a caregiver of some sort.

  Irritation tw
isted inside her. Here she was getting all worried about two kids who were no concern of hers. She had a goal to accomplish. She couldn’t let anything get in her way. Not now. She was too close.

  “Stop here.”

  She braked to a halt and resisted the impulse to ask for a please. Where were this kid’s manners?

  He opened his door and got out, then offered his hand to his brother. When the younger boy had climbed out, the older one hesitated before closing the passenger door.

  “Thank you,” he said. His lips trembled once before he bit them together, but she couldn’t have missed it.

  As tough as he wanted to appear, he was shaken up pretty badly, as she’d suspected.

  “No problem.” She looked out at the darkness. “You take care of yourselves now.”

  That was when she made her second mistake of the day. She turned back to the boy and this time it was his eyes that she zeroed in on. Blue eyes. Eyes so intense she couldn’t look away for five or six seconds.

  “We’ll be fine,” he assured her in that irreverent teenage tone.

  She should have left it at that. But something in the kid’s eyes wouldn’t let her leave them.

  “Maybe I’ll just make sure you get where you’re going.” What the hell was wrong with her? Why did she say that?

  “Suit yourself.” The door slammed, practically in her face, leaving her sitting there wondering why she wasn’t driving away.

  Because she was a fool.

  Chapter Five

  A.J. stayed out of the way as the local authorities took away the bodies of Pablo Vencino and a young woman whose identity was as yet unknown since no ID had been found on or near her body.

  The truck he’d encountered on the road to the house had belonged to one Manuel Estes whose body had already been taken away.

  A.J. was no coroner, but he estimated that the caliber of bullet used on each victim was the same—9 mm. Not to mention he’d found a few slugs in the sand near the abandoned truck. He hoped like hell Gabrielle hadn’t made that kind of mistake.

  The officer in charge had suggested that the murders had occurred during the night, perhaps twelve hours prior. A.J. agreed, taking into account the condition of the bodies. He had arrived at the airfield near Florescitaf just after midnight. He’d come straight to Sloan’s residence, coming upon the truck en route. After a thorough perusal of the residence, he’d telephoned the local authorities.