by Misty Evans
Men dressed in camo pants and dark colored shirts were everywhere, herding frightened guests to one side of the room. Semiautomatic weapons hung at their sides, occasionally shoved in the face of a guest when they refused to do as they were told. Who the fuck were these guys, and what did they want?
Amid the chaos, one man stepped forward, and Cooper instantly recognized him from the mug shots in the folder sitting on his desk; Basilio Ortega.
“Ortega’s here.” He jerked back before he was seen. If that son-of-a-bitch so much as touched a single hair on Novia’s head…
“Holy shit.” Eyes wide, Celina batted his restraining hand away, her voice a piercing whisper. “What the fuck is he doing here? Cooper, Novia’s in there.”
Ronni and Cooper both reached for Celina’s arms, once more stopping her from flying into the room in full battle mode.
“We can’t go in there half-cocked.” Cooper fought to keep his shit together. He couldn’t lose it, not when Celina and Novia needed him the most. “Let me think for a second, will you?”
The Beast in him rose up and he welcomed the calming, methodical presence it brought. As The Beast he could handle anything. He would handle anything.
It didn’t take two guesses why Ortega was here. Jana. The little girl was sick and possibly dying.
As if the man needed even more reason to be dangerous. “Are you both packing?” he asked the women.
“Really, boss?” Ronni slipped a hand beneath her skirt and withdrew a gun. “I’m always packing.”
“I’m covered too.” Celina confirmed, patting her upper thigh. “And I’m going to kill every one of those bastards.”
God he loved her.
Cooper toed off a black boot and withdrew the gun he had stashed there, shoving the boot back on. What he wouldn’t give for a pair of jeans and a t-shirt about now. “Okay, so we’ve got fire power. Now we need to be smart and get help in there.” There were highly trained agents in that room who wouldn’t go down without a fight, but they wouldn’t take a chance when there were so many innocent people involved.
There was a back door next to the walk-in freezer, but Cooper stopped Ronni before she could open it. Already he could see men up and down the hallway through the small window on the door, and he pressed the women against the wall to keep them from being spotted.
“We can’t get out this way. We’re going to need a Plan B.”
Carefully avoiding the window on the door, they returned to the middle of the kitchen.
Three windows, but they only opened part way, not nearly wide enough to accommodate any of them to fit through. Frustrated, Cooper’s eyes traveled over the ceiling and walls, landing on a large ventilation duct half hidden behind a prep table. He quietly moved the table out of the way, and began to pry the cover off the vent. “Celina, you’re on lookout. Punto, find something to get these screws out.”
Ronni handed him a butter knife. The tip just barely fit into the screw head, making the process possible, but slow going. After several tense seconds, he finally managed to get the last screw off and removed the cover, setting it aside.
“Ladies first.” He motioned for Ronni to climb in, scowling when she shook her head.
“Celina first.”
“We don’t have time to argue, Punto. Get in.”
She hesitated a second longer, her eyes darting to Celina, but she gave him her hand and allowed him to help her squeeze inside and out of sight.
One down, one to go. With Ronni safe, Cooper turned to Celina.
Her eyes were serious, and his stomach bottomed out. “We’ve got incoming,” she whispered.
Shit. They’d run out of time. “Davenport, get the fuck in there now.”
Her eyes widened before narrowing dangerously and he knew he would pay for that later. Fuck it. If it got her moving, then he would say it ten more times. Getting the women, especially his woman, to safety was a top priority, even if Celina didn’t agree. She hated it when he got all overprotective on her, but tough shit. She was the mother of his child and the woman he would be marrying tonight if they got out of this goat fuck alive. Until then, she could just be mad at him.
He was already going over a myriad of possible situations when he saw the firm set of her jaw, the determination in her gaze. No. No. “Goddammit, Celina, don’t you dare.”
“I love you.” Her face wavered, and she swallowed hard. “Get Ronni out of here and get some help. I’ll keep them off your back.” Celina was gone before he could argue.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. This was not happening, not now.
A shout came from the other side of the doors and he caught Celina’s calm, clipped tone as she claimed she was the only one in the kitchen. Her lie would buy him a few extra seconds before they checked things out for themselves. He needed to get his ass moving. Cooper backed into the ventilation shaft and pulled the table over as close as he could manage before setting the cover back into place.
“Where’s Celina?”
Cooper winced at the accusatory tone of Ronni’s voice. “She’s covering so we could get out. Let’s make this count, Punto.”
Chapter Three
Cooper was going to be pissed when she saw him again.
If she saw him again. Celina swallowed the lump in the back of her throat. She couldn’t think like that, not now.
With Novia nestled on her lap, she settled next to Emma and Jett, who were flanked on either side by Mitch and Thomas. Blessedly, Via had fallen asleep earlier and stayed that way through the commotion, completely oblivious to the drama unfolding.
Behind their row of chairs and huddled in the corner were the rest of the children, parents, and staff members who were doing their best to keep the children calm and quiet. A few were hooked up to machines, their vitals being closely monitored by nearby nurses. It infuriated Celina to see these families being so mistreated when they had already been through so much. These children should be tucked into bed, anxiously waiting for Santa, not dealing with dangerous men like Ortega and his goons.
“As I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” Ortega directed a menacing stare to Celina, who returned it unflinchingly. She refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing he scared her. Dressed in an impeccable suit, his jet black hair slicked back from his face, the cartel leader’s voice was low and menacing in comparison to his handsome features. “I am looking for Dr. Juanita Kyan. I know she’s here, so there’s no need to pretend she isn’t.”
He reminded Celina of Enrique Londano—the cartel leader who’d hunted her. The thought prickled under her skin with icy awareness, and she inwardly shivered. A low murmur passed through the crowd, but no one moved. A few rows over, Celina noted Amber fidgeting nervously, her eyes covertly darting to the middle aged woman she had been in such a hurry to speak with earlier. Something told her the woman was Dr. Kyan, but what did Ortega want with her?
“You will give me Dr. Kyan,” Ortega growled, snapping his fingers. The doors to the cafeteria swung open and a woman in a nurse’s uniform wheeled a little girl inside.
Jana Ortega. The girl’s face was flushed, her eyes glazed and feverish. She was obviously quite ill, and Celina’s heart broke for her.
“Jana!” The little girl in Christmas pajamas who’d asked Santa for help stood up and waved excitedly. The girl’s mother quickly shushed her, growing fearful when an armed man made a move towards them.
“Leave them alone.” The woman rose from her chair, chastising the man with the gun. To Ortega, she demanded, “What is it that you want?”
“Juanita, please don’t.” Amber shook her head, face stricken.
“Ah, Dr. Kyan, I presume?” Ortega’s mouth curved into a smile that didn’t quite reach his fathomless eyes. “I am Basilio Ortega, Jana’s father. We’ve not had the pleasure of meeting, though I have been informed you have been taking excellent care of my Jana.”
“I was until you decided to check her out against medical advice.” Dr. Kyan’s gaze swept over t
he young girl, her face wavering between sorrow and anger. “Do you realize you have endangered your daughter’s life by doing something so stupid?”
Even in an evening dress and heels, Dr. Kyan’s shoulders were ramrod straight, her chin raised defiantly as if she didn’t care who she was addressing. Celina admired her for that, even if she was somewhat afraid for her. A man like Basilio Ortega didn’t give a damn about human life other than his own. He could, and would, end a person’s life at the snap of his fingers. The cartel leader was not a man to mess with.
“Shut up, doctor. I do realize my mistake,” Ortega begrudgingly admitted.
Dr. Kyan knelt before Jana’s wheelchair, her scowl replaced by a warm, gentle smile. “Hello, Jana,” she said softly, “it is so nice to see you again.”
“Hello, Dr. Kyan,” Jana answered shakily. “I…I’m sorry I had to go away, but you said to tell you if I didn’t feel good, and I don’t feel good. My body hurts. So much.”
Dr. Kyan pressed a gentle hand to Jana’s forehead, lips curving downward. “Oh Jana,” she sighed, true regret shining in her eyes. “You’re running a fever.”
“It started yesterday,” Ortega acknowledged. For a moment, his face morphed with distress, and he actually appeared like a concerned father. “That’s why we’re here. You will come with us to Mexico and complete the bone marrow transplant. Bring whatever equipment you need.”
Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen. Celina met Mitch’s hard stare and he nodded. Ortega should have checked the guest list before he busted in on their party. There was no way the agents in the room were about to let him abscond with the doctor, not when he had a one-way ticket behind bars waiting for him. It was ballsy of him to have crossed the border at all, a testament to how well protected he was. Celina could only hope Cooper and Ronni arrived with backup soon.
Dr. Kyan rose to her full height. She regarded Ortega coolly with the practiced experience of one used to dealing with demanding parents.
“I will do no such thing,” she informed him icily. “Because you pulled her from treatment, she didn’t finish the needed pre-op conditioning. If we do the transplant now it will fail.”
Enraged by her refusal, Ortega withdrew a gun, firing into the air. Children and adults alike screamed, cowering beneath tables and each other for protection. Mitch threw himself in front of Emma and Celina, while Thomas, Sophie, and Victor put themselves in between the guns and the frightened guests.
“Perhaps I’ve not made myself clear,” he snarled, leveling his gun on the nearest person—Olivia Fiorelli. The woman stiffened in her chair, color draining from her face. “If you don’t do what I ask, then I will start killing hostages, one by one.”
Celina inhaled sharply, holding Via tighter. From the corner of her eye she saw Victor move with cat-like ease, effectively putting himself between Olivia and the gun. Jaw clenched, fury rolled off his large frame in waves. Ortega was lucky he held the gun, because Victor looked ready to tear the man apart.
“Please, don’t hurt anyone.” Left with little choice, Dr. Kyan reluctantly nodded. “There’s no need for violence, Mr. Ortega. Of course I’ll do everything in my power to help Jana, but she can’t be transported. She’s too sick.”
Ortega slowly lowered the gun. “But we have to go. We’re in danger here.”
“She’s in more danger if you take her on the road. She needs immediate medical attention and I have all my equipment and the bone marrow that was harvested from you here. She won’t make it if we don’t start on her right now. Traveling at this point is out of the question if you want her to live.”
The room was eerily quiet as everyone waited for Ortega’s response. Jana’s troubled breathing was the only sound, her sad eyes big in her face, pleading with her father. It was a risky gamble, but the alternative wasn’t pretty.
“Please, Mr. Ortega,” Dr. Kyan said. “This is Jana’s best chance. It may be her only chance.”
He reluctantly stowed the gun in his waistband. “Fine, but no tricks. This hospital is under my command. There is no way in or out without me knowing it.”
Worry for Cooper and Ronni rose up sharp, but Celina couldn’t think about that right now. She had to have faith they would figure out a way around Ortega’s men to get help.
Two nurses rose to their feet and slowly approached.
“Dr. Kyan, Megan and I will assist you with the surgery,” one of them spoke, motioning between herself and the other nurse.
Dr. Kyan smiled, somewhat relieved. “Thank you, Zoe, I appreciate that. Why don’t we take Jana to the surgical ward and get her prepped.” She glanced at Basilio. “That is, if it’s alright with Mr. Ortega.”
“Yes, do it. Ramone,” he snapped his fingers, and a large man jumped to alert. He wore the same camo pants and black shirt as the rest of the group, but there was a smug confidence about him that said he was used to being left in charge. “You know what to do.”
The nurses wheeled Jana from the room, followed by Ortega, two other guards, and Dr. Kyan. Celina watched them go, frustrated that she was helpless to do anything to stop them. She was a seasoned agent capable of taking a man down with her bare hands, but at the moment, they were tied. She wouldn’t risk Novia’s life, nor the lives of the others. There were too many armed guards. If they were going to take control of the situation, then they would need to do it in one solid strike.
Thomas seemed to have the same idea because he nudged her side. He continued to face forward, but from the corner of her eye Celina caught a hand movement she was quite familiar with. Of course. Why hadn’t she thought of that? Everyone on the taskforce was trained for situations when they weren’t able to verbally interact and had developed their own line of communication by using a series of covert hand gestures and eye signals. Dupé caught on to Thomas’s idea, and soon, Celina, as well as the other taskforce members, knew what to do: distract the guards. Hopefully, Cooper and Ronni would bring the cavalry soon.
Now for the hard part—putting the plan into motion.
Celina drew in a deep breath, heart hammering in her chest. She knew better than to wake a sleeping baby, especially one with a formidable temper like Novia’s, but if they were going to do this, than they would need the little Princess’s help. Praying this would work, Celina gently jostled the baby awake. Novia blinked her eyes open, staring up at Celina for a moment before her little mouth puckered and opened on a wail.
“Shut that fucking kid up.” Ramone snapped, eyes narrowed. As if on cue, Jett joined in, and soon the rest of the children were whimpering. So far, so good.
Ramone jammed a hand through his hair, now thoroughly irritated by all the noise. “Jesus fucking Christ, do something to shut them up already!”
The guards shifted uneasily, unsure how to handle a roomful of crying children. Perfect. That’s what they were counting on. Celina lifted Via in her arms, bouncing on the balls of her feet to calm her daughter down.
“They’re kids, and they’re scared.” She swallowed the lump of fear in her own throat when Ramone swung his gun in her direction. “Maybe the crafting table will keep them occupied for a while. If we add another table, everyone can fit, and the kids will have something to do.”
“Fine,” Ramone waved dismissively, pinching the bridge of his nose, “anything if it gets them to shut the hell up.”
Nelson and Thomas pushed tables together, Sophie spread materials out across the surface, and Olivia quickly ushered everyone over. The children looked wary, but appeared happy to be doing something active and their parents also seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Novia and Jett were calmed and carefully placed into the playpen, which Celina and Emma pushed behind the tables to keep them out of harm’s way.
Seven of us. Eight armed guards. Not ideal, but not terrible odds either. Celina had been in far worse situations, only not with so many innocent people around. More signals from Victor and the taskforce members fanned out, strategically placing themselves near each armed guard under the
guise of helping out at the crafting tables. One guard eyed Mitch suspiciously as he inched closer and Celina knew the ruse wouldn’t last much longer.
“Dios mio!” As if on cue, Sophie collapsed to the floor, and Nelson fell to his knees next to her. “Someone help her!” he urged the guards nearest him, who stepped closer to see what was going on.
It was all the distraction they needed. Everyone acted at once.
Mitch swung a heavy fist into the jaw of the guard eyeing him, toppling him backwards into Santa’s sleigh and sending presents scattering everywhere. Thomas bashed two guards’ heads in with a heavy silver tray—bam, bam—cookies flying everywhere. Nelson and Sophie took out the guards coming to her rescue, and Victor sent another flying over Santa’s throne. Almost home free…
“Enough!” Ramone fired shots into the air and everyone froze. Seven of the guards were down and out for the count, but they hadn’t been able to reach Ramone in time.
Shit. They were sitting ducks.
A shadow rose up behind Ramone and before Celina could blink, the large man was picked up and thrown WWE style across the room, whacking his head on the edge of the sleigh and landing in an unnatural heap on the floor.
Standing there in what had once been a white tank top, red velvet pants with suspenders, and a pair of black boots that had lost their shine, Cooper’s grimy face was pinched in a mixture of worry and pissed off-edness.
To Celina, he’d never looked so good.
Celina hurdled herself into Cooper’s arms, burying her face in his neck. “Thank God you’re all right.”
“Where’s Ortega?”
“His original intention was to kidnap the surgeon assigned to Jana’s case and take her to Mexico to perform the bone marrow transplant. Dr. Kyan convinced him to let her do it here. They went to the surgical wing, I think. Ortega took two guards with him. Amber can probably tell us more about what Dr. Kyan is doing.”
