The deep thumping grew louder and headed our way. We turned to face the SUV, and spotted a dark-blue Cadillac breaching the corner of the building.
We scurried for the front of the Hummer and took cover. Jackal inched his way to the edge of the vehicle. He poked his head out and snuck a peak.
“Shit,” he said, his voice deep and laced with aggravation. “They’re stopped at the entrance of the alley.”
I ejected the magazine to the Glock. It was almost spent. “How are you sitting on ammo?”
Jackal kept an eye on the Caddy, then glanced down at his piece. “I’ve got maybe four rounds or less left.”
I slapped the magazine into place, pulled my dagger from its sheath, then flipped it around–the serrated edge pointed at the ground.
An engine revved.
Tires squealed as the thumping echoed down the alleyway.
“We’ve got inbound.” Jackal moved away from the edge of the SUV. His back pressed to the thick-black bumper of the Hummer.
I drew a sharp breath and waited for the Caddy to arrive.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
SCARFACE
The rich bass of rap music rattled the approaching vehicle. The ground tremored under my feet. Vulgar lyrics blared from inside the dark-tinted windows.
We retreated to the passenger side of the Hummer as the Caddy crept by. It moved past the SUV at a snail’s pace, then stopped shy of the lowrider.
Jackal crouched next to the fender. His head turned to the side as his finger slipped over the trigger of his Glock.
I skirted the rear of the Hummer, and skulked to the other side.
The music ceased.
The engine died.
I snuck a peek from around the bend of the SUV, watching and waiting.
The passenger side doors swung open. Smoke escaped from the interior of the vehicle like a fog. Two armed, muscular men breached the haze with pistols drawn. The black rimmed sunglasses they wore concealed their eyes. Bandanas covered the lower portion of their faces from the nose down.
They brought their weapons to bear and swept the area. The driver’s side of the Caddy showed no movement. It was difficult to tell how many more were inside the car besides the wheel man.
I held tight, waiting for the right moment to strike.
The armed men split up–each stalking the lowrider and Hummer.
My gaze shifted from the Caddy to the gangbanger who crept to the opened driver’s door of the SUV.
He craned his neck and glanced my way. I leaned back, keeping my presence hidden. My fingers repositioned over the dagger. A slight film of moisture coated my palms as I lay in wait.
No footsteps tromped my way.
I secured the pistol in the waistband of my trousers. I breathed in and held before releasing it through pursed lips. I rolled to the side, and peered around the SUV. Half of the thug’s body was inside the Hummer.
“It’s definitely Diamondback’s ride,” he said in a raised voice while looking back to the Caddy through the window of the Hummer. “There’s blood in the passenger seat as well. I’m not finding any bodies, though.”
I stayed low and stalked the thug. My shoulder glided along the side of the SUV’s body as I closed in.
He took a step back.
I sprung from my crouched position, then placed my hand over his mouth. The blade of my dagger ran the length of his throat before he could call out. His arms flared for a second as I pulled him to the ground.
A sharp gunshot echoed within the corridor of buildings. Another body hit the ground.
The thug at my feet choked on his own blood. A gurgling sound fled from underneath the bandana. His fingers clawed at the gash, trying to stay the flow of blood.
Both the driver and back-passenger side doors of the Caddy flung open.
A hulking brute emerged from the backseat. His bald, black head dripped with beads of sweat that raced down his face. He turned toward the Hummer with an Uzi clutched in his hand.
Jackal fired another round, nailing the brute in the middle of the forehead. The brute’s head snapped back as he fell to the ground.
I kept low, and darted to the rear of the Caddy. I moved to the end of the bumper as the last remaining gangbanger stepped out of the car. He chambered a round, and brought the canon to bear as he caught sight of me.
He shifted toward me. His face twisted into a scowl as he gnashed his gold teeth.
I flipped the blade in my hand, and hurled it at the rail-thin man. The tip buried in his shoulder. He stumbled back into the door, dropped the piece, and wailed a painful moan.
Jackal locked onto the side of his skull from the other side of the car.
I waved him off. “Save it. I got it.”
Jackal lowered the Glock, then backed away from the Caddy. He turned his attention to the dispatched thugs on the ground.
I stepped over the brute’s large frame, and closed in on the weeping man.
The gangbanger narrowed his eyes at me. His trembling hand gripped the dagger’s handle. Strings of spit clung to his top and bottom lips.
“Who the hell are you?” His voice shook with rage.
“I’m the boogeyman, of course,” I answered with a smirk. “Here, let me get that. It looks painful.”
I yanked the dagger free.
The man howled in pain.
A razor thin line of blood chased the tip of the dagger as he palmed the wound. He grumbled as he leaned back against the car door.
“Are you crackers working for Tripp?” His fearful eyes locked onto mine. He tried to move away, but the car door wouldn’t let him.
“No. We’re actually after the people who were driving this truck. You haven’t seen a white guy and girl on foot, have you? I imagine around these parts they’d stick out like a sore thumb.”
The thug swallowed the lump in his throat. “I haven’t seen shit. We’ve been patrolling the streets trying to find them as well. We figured they were part of Tripp’s crew since they had his ride.”
I nodded, then placed my hand on the man’s shoulder. He flinched. A whimper fled his mouth. I drove the dagger into his gut, then twisted.
His eyes bulged. Blood seeped out from around the blade, discoloring the bright-yellow shirt he had on.
I patted the side of his head, then pulled the blade free. I wiped the dagger clean on his shirt. He drifted to the side and fell to the concrete. He hit with a dense thud.
I stepped over his body and made my way around the front of the vehicle.
Jackal stood at the ready with a few additional pistols tucked in his waistband. “Learn anything new?”
I shook my head. “Not anything we didn’t already know.”
“We still heading to Glenwood?” Jackal asked.
I secured the United Cutlery Push Dagger in its sheath. “I say we hit up Gao’s place first. I’d be willing to bet that’s where Lawson’s heading as we speak. There’s too much heat on the streets. Lawson will need to lay low and get things sorted. At least, that’s what I would do if I was him.”
“And if he isn’t there? What then?”
“Then we’ll move to the next name on the list until we find him,” I answered.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CORY
Anna and I stuck to the alleys and side streets to avoid detection from the Young Bloods patrolling the area, and the hit men for that matter. We felt like rats in a maze—trapped with freedom just beyond our reach.
The forlorn buildings shielded and kept us out of sight of any threats. We moved at a good clip, scurrying along the sides of the structures that had seen better days.
The aged-brick exteriors crumbled in places with fissures that snaked through the walls. Some had partially collapsed, exposing the interiors of the condemned buildings.
A number of the alleys we tried to exploit were blocked or too hazardous to pass. If it wasn’t rubble scattered across the ground, it was a building that looked as though it could fall at any moment. We p
ushed on through safer passages.
The drugs in my system helped with the pain. It allowed me to concentrate on the task at hand. I contemplated popping another pain pill, but passed, seeing as it hadn’t been long since I had taken some.
Anna kept glued to my backside, matching me step for step. She’d pat my arm or give me a low whistle if she heard or spotted anything of concern.
The distinctive beat of the Young Bloods’ music provided a warning for us to tread with caution. We’d pause and listen, not moving until we knew it was safe.
“How much farther is this Andrès Compos place?” Anna asked through panted breaths.
“Not much farther,” I replied winded. Although a bit sluggish from lack of sleep and the drugs in my system, I kept moving along.
On foot, it seemed like it was taking an eternity to make any real headway. I longed for a car, and the security of not having to watch my back every second while hoofing it through the dangerous streets of LA’s seedy side.
We crept to the edge of the deteriorating drug store that had long been closed, and slowed our pace. I motioned with my hand at Anna to be silent.
The street had some traffic, but it wasn’t much. What few cars there were passed the alley without braking or giving us a second look.
I peered down both stretches of road, searching for the gangbangers. I didn’t detect any heavy thumping music, lowriders, or other markers that indicated the Young Bloods were in the area.
“All right. Come on,” I said while shuffling out from the alley.
We hit the street, and darted across in a flash. The rucksack on my back bounced up and down with each stride. My head turned from side to side as we raced toward the alleyway.
“Can we take a minute to catch our breath?” Anna asked.
“In a minute,” I replied.
We worked our way down the alley, stopping behind a large-green dumpster. The smell made my nose crinkle.
Anna waved her hand in front of her. A frown formed on her face as she stepped away from the fly-ridden dumpster. “Christ. That smells awful. I wonder when the last time they emptied this thing was.”
My side ached some, but it wasn’t too bad. I pressed my hand to my ribs. They were still a little tender to the touch. I flinched and removed my hand.
“They’re probably not concerned with that right now,” I answered. “They have much larger issues to contend with.”
I turned away from the dumpster, and headed down the alley.
Anna strode up to my side. She glanced over her shoulder, then faced forward. “I know I’m probably going to sound like a broken record, as I’ve said this multiple times, but I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
I bowed, then offered a warm smile. “Like I said before, there’s no need to thank me. I just did what I felt was right. Lord knows, I have plenty to atone for.”
“I know, but to me it was a big deal. I didn’t know what was going to happen. Those disgusting pigs got what they deserved, thanks to you,” Anna said with contempt.
“I’ll just feel better once we get you to your friend’s place and you’re safe,” I said. “Hanging with me can be hazardous to your health.”
“Not any more than everyday life around these parts from the looks of it,” she shot back. “I don’t think I’ve ever been through the projects before. Not a place I ever want to come through again.”
I nodded in agreement, then adjusted the straps of the rucksack on my shoulders. “It’s not for the weak of heart, that’s for sure. I’ve been in some shitty parts of the country, and this edges out most of them.”
The farther we walked, the less impact the Young Bloods and Tripp’s crew had. The impoverished landscape and war torn feel of the streets and buildings lessened. Recent events had only given the rival gangs an opportunity to try and capitalize on the chaos.
Other territories that were close at hand, the gangs didn’t dare touch. Much bigger fish roamed those waters. Andrès Compos was just one of those predators.
We kept to the alleyways as much as possible, venturing out onto the sidewalks, or in view of the roads when necessary. I worried less about the gangs, but still had the hit men on my mind.
Andrès had a chop shop not too far from where we were. It was one of many endeavors that had made him wealthy and feared. To hold territory in these parts, you had to have a rep for not taking any bullshit, and he made sure all knew he was not to be trifled with.
We took Amber Blvd, and hiked down a few blocks to Gresham Ave. His shop was located across the street on the corner. Traffic was never much of anything in this part of town. It was perfect for conducting business without drawing too much attention from the authorities.
“So, that’s it?” Anna asked, sounding unimpressed by the plain looking reddish-brown brick building that spanned down the road. “I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I figured if the guy had his own plane, then he’d have some better digs is all.”
“Don’t let the building fool you. That’s just his shop. He’s connected. That’s why I came here. We’ll nab a ride, then get you safe.” I pointed at the structure. I looked either way down the street, then tapped Anna’s arm. We crossed the road, heading for the sidewalk that ran alongside the business.
My head remained on a swivel, searching for any threats that could be close by. We hit the narrow passage that led behind the building, and made our way to the lone faded gray door that sat unguarded. Located about chin high was a steel plate that could be slid open.
“Now, when we get inside, just keep quiet, and let me do all of the talking, okay?” I said.
Anna nodded. “You won’t have to worry about that.”
I balled my fingers into a fist, then rapped against the door twice. I glanced back to the street, waiting for a response. None came. I knocked again, and the steel plate slid to the side.
“What the hell do you want?” a gruff Hispanic voice said through the narrow opening.
Taking a single step back, I said, “I’m here to speak with Andrès.”
“I think you’re lost. You might want to fuck off and check somewhere else,” the man said in harsh and stern tone.
“Tell him Cory Lawson is here to settle the business we have,” I shot back.
“I’m not going to do shit, white boy. If you know what’s–” He paused, then looked away from the opening.
Anna glanced at me with a concerned look.
My hand drifted down to the Glock I had stashed in my waistband. I couldn’t see what was going on through the opening, but heard voices speaking in mutters.
The lock on the solid door retracted. My hand moved away from the Glock as the door swung inward.
A large, bald, Hispanic man stood by the door. The assault rifle he held caught my eye first. He cradled the AK-47 like a newborn baby–keeping it close to his chest. He sized me up with a scowl on his face, then looked to Anna who diverted her gaze.
“Cory Lawson,” a different voice said from the shadows of the building. “It’s been a long time.”
I spotted the silhouette of a figure flanking the not-so-happy gatekeeper standing before us. The voice sounded familiar, but I couldn’t put it with a face in my head. It wasn’t Andrès. I knew that much.
The man tapped the gatekeeper on the shoulder, who stepped to the side, but kept the AK clutched in his hands. The shadowy figure moved toward the light, offering me a better glimpse of the man before us.
His thick-black hair was slicked back. A toothpick resided between his pearl-white teeth. He was clean shaven—except for the trimmed goatee that outlined his square chin and thin lips.
It took me a moment, but I recognized him. “Juan. Is that you?”
The man offered a warm, cocky smile. “It is. I wasn’t sure if old age had eaten away at your memory or not.”
“Not for lack of trying. That’s for sure,” I replied while extending my hand to him.
Juan grabbed my palm with a firm grip and shook it. He
leaned forward, and peered down the passageway to the street. “Here, why don’t you and your friend–”
“Anna.” Anna said.
Juan smiled, then bowed in her direction. “Why don’t you and Anna come inside, so we can talk shop?”
I took a single step forward before Juan held up his hand. “What?”
He pointed at the Glock tucked in my waistband. “Can’t let you in with the piece, homey. House rules.”
Gatekeeper watched me like a hawk as I reached for the piece. His hand tightened over the fore-end of the AK while his trigger finger hovered over the kill switch.
I pulled the Glock, and handed it to Juan. “And here I thought we were being friendly.”
He took the piece, then stuffed it in the waistband of his black slacks. “This is us being friendly. Hector here has an itchy trigger finger with most people who show up unannounced, so you’re lucky I was close by. With all of the shit going down in the streets, things have been tense.”
“Are you going to frisk us next?” I shot back.
“Do we need to?” Juan asked with a raised brow.
“Not at all. The Glock there is all I have on me. The girl isn’t carrying,” I said.
He craned his neck, peering at the rucksack on my back. “What’s in the bag?”
I pointed to the bag strapped to my shoulders. “Goodies. Cash and painkillers.”
“Brave man walking around these streets carrying that,” Juan said.
“Can we come in or not? I’m kind of on a time crunch,” I said.
Juan glanced to the gatekeeper, then nodded toward me. “Pat them down, Hector, then check the bag.”
The gatekeeper patted down Anna first, who shuddered as the large man touched her body. He moved over to me, and swept me for any weapons.
“They’re clean.” He reached for the rucksack and unzipped the top. He spread the flaps apart, then peered inside. “Just as he said. Cash and some Oxycodone.”
“Satisfied now?” I asked in a condescending tone.
Brink of Extinction | Book 1 | Sudden Impact Page 12
