“Shit! That scared me to death!” she squeaked.
“We can’t stop. You have to do this, Aleta. Hold it up again. Now, take your left hand and cup it over your right. I want you to push with your right hand and pull back with your left. Like your right hand wants to go forward, but your left hand won’t let it. Constant pressure. Point with your finger and when you’ve got it where you want it, pull the trigger. Take your time.” He waited.
BOOM! The pistol fired and that time, she held onto the weapon and stood there, frozen. “Look!” she crowed all of a sudden. “I hit it!”
“Yeah! You did. That was good! Let’s try it again. This time, fire twice in a row. It’s okay. The gun will cycle. You don’t have to do anything else to it. Get ready and take your stance.”
He watched, proud as a peacock, as she fired two rounds into the target on the far side of the barn. Both shots were within the silhouette. Yeah, they weren’t in the kill range, but that was good enough to stop someone. Reloading the magazine after racking one into the chamber, he held it out to her again. “Empty the mag. Fire them all, one right after another. Just do it. Let’s see how you do.”
To his amazement, she emptied all nine rounds into the target, and she managed to get five of them in the kill range. “Good job!” If she could do that, he was about to up the ante.
He took the big P97 away from her and loaded the Glock G26 Gen 4, then loaded the extended magazine with eighteen rounds of 9mm Luger, racked one in, and reloaded the mag, all the while wondering how she’d react to the lighter, subcompact weapon. “This isn’t like the other gun. It’s over a pound unloaded. This one is really light and easy to handle, plus it’s chambered for 9mm. Same procedure, only know that the trigger on this has an automatic safety. Half a pull doesn’t do anything. You have to pull the trigger all the way back. Ear protection,” he reminded her and watched as she put her ear plugs back in. “Let ‘er rip, babe.”
He watched as she took her stance, leveled the weapon at the target, and let the shell casings fly. She didn’t stop until she’d emptied the weapon, and even then, she kept pulling the trigger. “Babe! You’re done! It’s empty! Stop!” She lowered the weapon, and it was only then that he looked at the target.
All but two of the nineteen shots were in the kill zone. “Holy hell,” Jack whispered.
“I did good, huh?” Aleta asked, smiling.
“No. You did great. You sure you never did this before?”
“Positive. Does this mean I can have my own gun?”
“It means that after you’ve practiced for a week, you can have your own gun. This one. I’ll teach you to reload.” He pointed to six boxes of 9mm hollow points. “You’ll use every one of these today. Then we’ll do it again tomorrow.”
It took him less than three minutes to teach her how to reload the magazine, chamber a round, and slip another in the mag before she emptied it into the target, with about the same results. Jack was beyond thrilled. A few more days practice and if she had to defend herself, he was pretty sure she could.
“So let’s see you shoot,” she said when she’d finished. “Go on.”
Jack stood in front of the target, the Kimber in his hip holster. Hands to his sides, he stared at the black silhouette on the cardboard and pictured Moss’s face there, leering at him. It’s him or you, trooper. Make it count. See your target, take your target. You’ll only get one chance to save your own life. Jack listened to his trainer’s voice in his head, thinking back to the academy. It’s him or you, trooper.
He drew and emptied the Kimber in under fifteen seconds. Every shot went straight into the center and pulverized a two-inch spot on the target. When he stopped, weapon still aloft, he assessed the situation. The weapon’s magazine was empty and his suspect was subdued. That was his objective, and he’d met it. Completely zoned out and in the moment, he came back to himself when he heard a soft voice whisper, “Wow. That’s impressive.”
“Thanks.” Holstering the weapon, he turned to Aleta. “It’s my job.”
“Will I ever be that good?”
“I don’t know. I’ve had a lot of years of practice. But you’ve got a good start,” he told her, gathering up weapons and equipment. “Come on. We’ve got a lot of cleaning to do. A dirty weapon is a dangerous weapon.”
He and one of the team chatted as they all headed back to the house, and when they were locked in, he helped Aleta learn to field strip the Glock and clean it while he cleaned the Ruger and the Kimber. They hadn’t shot the Rossi or the rifle, but it didn’t matter. He wanted her to keep using the Glock until she felt comfortable with it. It seemed to suit her, and it would definitely do the job.
They spent the evening watching silly shows on TV, eating popcorn, drinking sodas, and cuddling on the sofa. They’d only been together for a little over a week, and Jack hoped their time together wasn’t about to run out.
The breakfast dishes were done and they were in the process of starting laundry when Jack’s phone rang―a Texas area code. “Fletcher.”
“Kentucky! How ya doin’?” a voice called out, and Jack recognized it immediately.
“Doin’ good, Cruz. You guys doin’ okay down there?”
“Yeah. Pretty damn good. Wanted you to know, the FBI located the Stone girl. She’s at Ortiz’s compound outside Austin. The good news is that she’s alive. The bad news is that it appears she was injured in the accident and wasn’t seen medically. She’s dragging a leg, and it looks as though she’s been beaten repeatedly, but she’s cooking for him, and that’s all he cares about.”
Jack was afraid to ask. “Anything else?”
“If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, I’m sure of it. Ortiz has hookers in and out all the time. He thinks of women as his to play with. I’m sure he’s probably raped her repeatedly and given her to Moss to use too. Our informant said she acted like a zombie, didn’t talk, eyes kinda glazed over. She’s in trouble. And if she gets to the point where she can’t cook for him, well, who knows what he’ll do to her, or with her.”
“At least you know where she is.”
“Yeah, but we’re trying to figure out how to extract her without starting a war. Menendez is still looking for her. I don’t know a lot, but I do know Don Hernan is very respectful of women. If he finds her and she’s in that kind of shape, blood will flow like a champagne fountain at a Catholic wedding. You can count on it. Don Hernan may be a drug kingpin and a brutal overlord, but he’s a gentleman, and that shit won’t fly with him.”
“At least he has one redeeming quality,” Jack offered.
“Yeah. I’ll let you know when I know more. Until then, keep me informed if there’s anything I should know. I may be down here, but I’m still attached to this investigation.”
“Sure thing. And thanks, Cruz. I appreciate it. Good luck extracting her.”
“Thanks. I think we’re going to need it.”
Jack laid his phone on the washer’s lid and stood there for a minute. Things were getting more and more convoluted as time went by, and he was worried. While they knew where the Stone girl was, it didn’t seem anyone had a workable plan for getting her out of Ortiz’s grasp. If they could do that, they could deflect attention from Aleta, and maybe he could get her out of town and somewhere safe until Moss was apprehended.
Her voice brought him back from his thoughts. “You okay?”
“Yeah. That was Cruz. They found the Stone girl, but they don’t know how they’re going to get her away from Ortiz.”
“That’s bad.” She opened the dryer door, felt around in the clothes, closed it again, turned the knob, and pressed the button. “I’m sure they’ll come up with something. What are we going to do for the rest of the day?”
He shrugged. “Finish this laundry, I guess, and then I have no idea.” The words were barely out before the doorbell rang. “Stay here.”
When he got to the door, he opened it to find Amos and Matt standing there. “Hey, little brother!” Amos said an
d barged in right past Jack.
“What the―”
“UK’s playing today, or had you forgotten?” Matt asked, grinning.
“Oh, shit! Yeah, I totally forgot. My mind’s kinda been elsewhere,” Jack said, thinking back to all the phone calls he’d gotten over the last week.
Amos was busy loading beer into the refrigerator. “Yeah, and she’s enough to keep you busy too, right?”
“Who’s enough to keep who busy?” Aleta asked as she entered the kitchen from the laundry room.
“Uh, hi,” Amos stuttered.
“Hi to you too. I suppose you were talking about me?” she asked, her smirk barely visible.
Amos blushed. “Um, yeah. You’re keeping him busy, right?”
“Ask your brother what kind of shot I am,” she announced.
“Damn good one,” Jack called from the living room.
Amos’s cheeks were flushed. “That’s good.” By the time he got back to the living room with a beer apiece for Jack, Matt, and himself, his face was blood red.
Jack was laughing. “Whatsa matter, big brother? Open your mouth and stick your foot in it? You do realize she’s living here, right?”
“Yeah, yeah. I just forgot, I guess.” He turned to look at Aleta standing there in the kitchen, smirking. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“Coming to watch the game with us?” Jack called to her.
“Nah. I’m going to the bedroom.” She disappeared, and Jack felt bad. She was stuck there, and as much as he appreciated what Amos and Matt were doing, it would’ve been nice if they could do something she would enjoy.
Five minutes into the first half, Jack excused himself to go to the bathroom, but that wasn’t really what he had in mind. Aleta was propped up in the bed when he opened the door, reading a book of some kind. “Hey, babe, what’s up?”
“I’m just reading this. It’s not very interesting, but it’s something to read.” She held up the book: Luther’s Manual of Handguns and Long Guns.
“Yeah. It’s mine and I couldn’t make it through the thing. I’m sorry there’s nothing else for you to read around here. But I’ve got a tablet over there, and you can order some ebooks and read if you want. I don’t mind.” Jack grabbed it from its resting place on his nightstand and handed it to her. “You’ll have to download the right app, but then you can read anything you want.”
She looked up at him from under her brows. “You sure you don’t mind?”
“Not at all. Pick out some books that you think you’ll like and knock yourself out. And just remember,” he said, patting her foot before he turned to go into the master bath, “you’re still welcome in the living room.”
“Thanks. That’s okay. I’ll just read.”
When the ballgame was finished, Amos and Matt broke out the frozen pizzas they’d brought over and the four of them sat at the table and ate, laughed, and talked. “So what did you wind up buying to read?” Jack asked Aleta as he took a bite of pizza.
“Some romances. Mostly romances with law enforcement guys as the heroes.”
Jack choked on his pizza.
“You okay, babe?” Aleta asked, pounding his back between his shoulder blades.
“Uh―cough, cough―I just―cough, cough―I never dreamed you’d―cough―get something like that,” Jack barked, his eyes watering.
It was Amos’s turn to laugh. “So now you’re the hero in a romance novel! How ‘bout that, little brother?”
“Shirtless with the wind blowing your hair back?” Matt asked, hee-hawing.
“It’s not like that,” Aleta insisted. All three turned and stared at her. “Well, okay, it’s kinda like that.” When they started to laugh, she did too. “All right, all right. I’ll find something else to read,” she said, pretend pouting as she laughed.
Jack grinned at her. “No, babe, I think that’s sweet. Me as the hero. Hell, I’m usually the one doing all the paperwork while everybody else goes out to grab a drink.”
Without missing a beat, Aleta said, “You’re my hero.”
“Owwwww. You guys are killin’ me!” Amos yelled.
“Yeah. Ewwww. Can you get a little sweeter? Syrup isn’t running out of your ears yet!” Matt crowed as he laughed.
Jack squeezed her hand. “Don’t pay any attention to them, babe. They’re just jealous.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I’m going back to read. If y’all are going to act like that, maybe I’ll change to firefighter books.” As she passed Jack on her way back to the bedroom, she leaned down and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
Amos laughed again. “Ooooo, we’re being replaced, Matt!”
“Firefighters. Pretty boys with long hoses,” Matt play-groused with a grin.
“I’m not touching that one!” Aleta sang out from down the hallway.
“Probably best that you don’t!” Amos yelled back.
They could hear the bedroom door click shut, and in seconds the laughter died. “Is she doing okay?” Matt asked.
Jack just shrugged. “Eh. About as well as could be expected. I hope this is over soon.”
“I think you’re both handling this about as well as anybody could,” Amos offered. Jack could see that his big brother was being sincere.
“Thanks. We’re trying. I won’t lie―I’m scared. That Moss guy, he’s crazy.”
“Yep.” Matt nodded. “Beyond crazy. And a good shot too, which makes him even scarier.”
They sat there at the table for over an hour, comparing the information they all had and trying to figure out what needed to happen, but they all drew a blank. As long as Ortiz had the cook and Menendez had that picture of Moss, Aleta wasn’t safe. She’d been through so much, and she didn’t deserve to have to go through more, but Jack didn’t know what to do about it.
As Amos and Matt left, Jack’s brother leaned in and hugged him. “Be careful. I don’t want anything to happen to you, punk,” Amos said, using the nickname he’d given Jack before they were old enough to curse.
“Thanks. I’m trying.”
“Okay. Love ya, bro.” Amos headed down the steps to join Matt in the car, and Jack stood and watched until Matt’s car disappeared from sight down the driveway.
Love ya, bro. That’s what Amos had said. And for Amos to say that, things had to be bad.
Chapter 9
Two days had passed since Amos and Matt had been there, and nothing had happened. Absolutely nothing. There’d been no new word on anything going on with Moss, no word on the Stone girl, and no word on what Menendez might be doing.
And then all hell broke loose.
Jack’s phone rang at a little after ten that morning and when he answered it, he didn’t like the sound of Dax Chambers’ voice. “Kentucky?”
“Yeah.”
“I’ve got some news, and I don’t think you’re going to like it.”
Jack steeled himself. “Give it to me.”
“Menendez knows Ortiz has the girl, and he’s planning an all-out war. In the meantime, Ortiz has ordered Moss to take out anybody who could testify that they knew about the girl. They’re planning to kill her and hide the body so Menendez can’t find her. Cruz wanted me to call you because he’s busy. The FBI is going to launch an assault to extract her, and they’re expecting casualties.”
“Where is this?”
“Ortiz’s compound outside Austin.”
“And where is Moss?”
“That’s just it. We don’t know. Nobody’s seen him in days, intel’s gone dry, and every one of our informants have said they’ve heard nothing. He could be anywhere, Jack. Anywhere.”
A chill ran up Jack’s spine. “Does my captain know this?”
“He doesn’t, but he will shortly. They’re calling a conference in the war room at the post and they’d like to patch you in. Call him and get the particulars. But this is serious, Jack. You guys … We have to find that idiot before something horrible happens. Keep Aleta safe. She’s depe
nding on you.”
Jack ran his hand through his hair in frustration. “She’s my only priority at this point.”
“As she should be. I begged them to send her to a safe house, but they told me they think she’s as safe or safer there as she would be anywhere else. You’ve got guys in the trees and perimeter, right?”
“Yep.”
“Good. Stay there. Don’t let anybody in or out unless you trust them. He’s not above using somebody you know and love to get to you. The guy has no soul.”
“I’m on red alert already. Let me know if you hear anything else.”
“Will do. Good luck, Jack. If this war breaks out in Texas, it’s just a matter of time before they bring it to your doorstep, and you’d better be ready.”
“Sittin’ on ready, waitin’ on go,” Jack answered. “Thanks, Dax.”
“Take care, Kentucky. We’re thinking about you.”
Jack ended the call and tapped the phone against his lower lip as he stood and thought. In a couple of minutes, something passed through his mind and he went straight to the bedroom. Donning his vest, he made his way out of the house to his cruiser, pulled his radio equipment, and carried it inside. Once he had it in the house, he hooked it up, powered it up, and turned it on. Then he went to the dispatcher’s channel and hit the mic button. “Fletcher detail, Fletcher detail. Go to channel seventeen. I repeat, Fletcher detail, go to channel seventeen.” Then he waited.
“Fletcher detail unit one, reporting.”
“Fletcher detail unit three, reporting.”
“Fletcher detail unit four, reporting.”
In all, twelve details responded. That was what he wanted. “This is Trooper Fletcher. I’ve moved my radio equipment into the house and will monitor the dispatch channel unless otherwise directed. If so, I will return to channel seventeen to communicate with you.”
“Unit three. Roger that, trooper. You’re close enough that radio bleed will catch us if we’re on another channel and we’ll check with you. Everything okay in there?” the officer asked.
Justice for Aleta Page 14
