Caught in the Act

by Jill Sorenson

  Adam slowed to a stop next to Ian, his heart pounding. He’d pulled on some street clothes at the hospital, but he was still wearing his protective vest. The T-shirt underneath was damp with sweat.

  He got out of his car and approached the driver’s side of the Mercedes, nodding at Ian to cover him.

  Moreno waited for Adam with his window down, drumming his fingertips against the steering wheel. “We have to stop meeting like this, Officer Cortez.” Although his lips curved into a smile, it didn’t reach his eyes. He looked like he hadn’t slept in days. His run-down appearance made a sharp contrast to the elegant façade he usually cultivated.

  “What’s your plan?” Adam asked.

  “He’s expecting me, so we can use my vehicle. You should crouch down in the back. I’ll go in first and cause a distraction.”

  Adam thought it was a ballsy move, borderline suicidal. “What’s to stop him from shooting you before you get inside?”

  “Codigo,” he said, using the Spanish word for code of honor. “There are rules to follow in a succession. If he wants to be the new boss, he has to challenge me openly. Cowards can’t take the reins.”

  Adam studied Moreno’s face, evaluating his sincerity.

  “I don’t expect you to believe me, but I have standards about killing innocents. Pena has crossed that line twice. I will not allow him to do it again.”

  “Where are the women being held?”

  “In the basement. There’s a door in the kitchen.”

  “Describe the layout of the house.”

  Moreno did, in simple terms. There were three rooms and two exits, a front door and a back door.

  “What are we up against as far as weapons?”

  He listed a number of pistols and semiautomatic handguns. “There are also enough explosives to blow the place sky-high.”

  “Jesus,” Adam said.

  “If I thought there was a better way, I would leave it to the police force. But time is of the essence and Pena has a taste for rape.”

  Fury rose up within Adam, blackening the edges of his vision. He could cooperate with Moreno, but Adam would never forgive him for associating with a sick bastard like Chuy. Anyone who touched Kari deserved to be cut into bloody little pieces.

  “Let’s go,” he said, gesturing at Ian to come along. While they got into the Mercedes, crouching behind the seats, Adam gave him a rundown of the situation.

  They traveled the last stretch of Calle Oscuro with their heads down, cloaked by tinted windows, under the cover of dusk.

  Maria worked on the lock with intense concentration, her slender fingers clutching the tiny piece of plastic in a tight grip.

  “Almost,” she whispered.

  Kari was lying on her stomach at the top of the stairs, looking under the door. There was no one in the kitchen. She had no idea where the men were, but she hoped they couldn’t hear Maria picking the lock. “Still clear.”

  “Got it!” With a dull click, the mechanism released. Maria shoved the needle cap back into her pocket and reached out to turn the knob, her hand trembling.

  Kari grabbed her ankle, delaying her. “Wait. Someone’s coming.”

  Maria sank to her belly beside Kari, peering underneath the door. Together they watched Chuy’s slip-on Adidas come into focus. He sat down in a chair at the kitchen table. Another man took the seat across from him.

  “Moreno,” Maria mouthed, confirming Kari’s suspicions.

  Although Chuy’s feet were wide apart, his slouch suggesting indolence, the air between the two men was bone-chilling. They were ready to kill each other. It wasn’t a good time to attempt an escape.

  “You didn’t follow orders,” Moreno said.

  Chuy made no excuses. “What’s done is done.”

  “Let the women go. They won’t risk testifying.”

  He tapped his foot, contemplating. “What do you offer for them?”

  “A smooth transition.”

  “You really want out?”

  “It’s time,” Moreno said. “I don’t have the stomach for murder anymore.”

  Kari realized that he was making Chuy an offer he couldn’t refuse. The top position in his drug empire, handed over without a fight.

  “What about Armando?” Chuy asked.

  “Forget him.”

  “Give me his letter.”

  “I don’t have it.”

  Chuy seemed displeased by the answer. He leaned back in his chair, putting distance between them. “You haven’t promised anything I can’t get on my own. You say you’re done with killing but I know you’re armed. Do you think I’m stupid?”

  “I think you’re reckless,” Moreno admitted.

  Chuy didn’t respond.

  “The receptionist you shot … she was very beautiful.”

  His nervous foot went still. “So?”

  “Were you sleeping with her?”

  “What difference does it make?”

  “She was pregnant.”

  Chuy’s hand crept down toward his ankle. “Who told you that?”

  “One of my sources.”

  “The same one who confirmed Armando was in the hospital?”

  Kari grabbed Maria’s shoulder, clutching it tightly. They both dreaded what was coming. She didn’t know whether to warn Moreno or get away from the door.

  “Perhaps,” Moreno said.

  Chuy’s next move was as quick as lightning. “Liar,” he growled, snatching a pistol from his ankle holster. Moreno leapt to his feet, knocking a chair over. There were two earsplitting blasts as their weapons fired simultaneously.

  Chuy staggered to the side, letting out a strangled sound.

  Moreno fell to the ground and stayed there.

  Kari clapped a hand over her mouth, smothering her scream. She started to scramble down the steps but Maria held her still, shaking her head. Wide-eyed, she pressed a finger to her lips, gesturing for Kari to be quiet.

  Chuy shifted his feet, struggling to stay upright. Crimson drops splashed on his shoes and peppered the dirty linoleum.

  Another man entered the kitchen, reaching down to disarm Moreno. The former drug lord lay motionless. “We’ve got movement outside,” Ronnie said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting the fuck out of here.”

  Chuy was bleeding, but he wasn’t down. “Where’s Beto?”

  “Covering the front. Let’s go.”

  The instant Ronnie walked out the back door, more gunfire erupted. Chuy muttered a string of curses and slammed the door shut, leaving Ronnie to his own devices. “Motherfucker!” he yelled at Moreno’s lifeless body, exiting the kitchen.

  Kari stared at Maria, her heart hammering against her ribs. They couldn’t try to get away during a shootout. It was too dangerous. “What should we do?”

  “Let’s wait.”

  She nodded her agreement, relieved. Hand in hand, they started walking down the concrete staircase.

  They’d gone only a few steps when the house exploded.

  Ian had been braced for action from the moment Moreno pulled into the driveway and parked beside Chuy’s SUV.

  He’d anticipated a gunfight in the front yard. When Moreno wasn’t shot on sight, Ian let out a slow breath, exchanging a surprised glance with Adam. They’d both expected the worst.

  Although Chuy had allowed Moreno to come inside, Ian doubted the drug lord would walk out alive. This mission had kamikaze written all over it. Ian didn’t know why Moreno would make such a sacrifice and he didn’t care. His entire focus was on saving Maria. Everything else was peripheral.

  “When it’s go time, head around to the back of the house,” Adam said in a low voice. “I’ll cover the front.”

  Ian didn’t argue. The kitchen was in the back, along with the door to the basement where Maria and Kari were being held.

  As soon as they heard the shots, Adam moved out of his hiding position, shoving open the car door and tumbling across the dirt lot. He crouched behind the hood, his weapon drawn.

&nbs
p; Ian exited the vehicle through the same door, glad for the approaching nightfall as he circled the back bumper with his head down. Staying low, he ran across the front yard, heading toward the far corner of the house.

  For a few seconds he was out in open space, completely vulnerable. Blood pounded in his ears and pebbles crunched under the soles of his boots. He tightened his grip on the Glock, praying he wouldn’t get hit.

  As soon as he got clear, he raced along the side of the house, flattening his back against the stucco wall. Before turning the corner, he paused, listening for movement. Someone was trying to leave.

  Ian burst into motion, flying around the corner. “Get down on the ground,” he shouted, ready to shoot.

  The man coming out the back door reached into his waistband, pulling out a semiautomatic handgun.

  Ian fired twice, hitting him in the shoulder and the center of the chest. The man fell against the open door, his handgun peppering the dirt with bullets. Judging by the way he went down and stayed down, he was dead.

  Ian didn’t have time to reflect on his first kill, because Chuy Pena appeared in the doorway before Ian could squeeze off another shot. Ian ducked behind the corner of the house, narrowly avoiding Chuy’s return fire.

  Jesus! That was close.

  Although Ian was ready for him, Chuy didn’t advance. The shady bastard slammed the door and retreated inside, leaving his fallen comrade on the back step. Once again, Ian didn’t hesitate to move in closer. Rushing forward, he picked up the dead man’s handgun and shoved it in his waistband.

  Sweat dripping in his eyes, he waited beside the door.

  No one came out.

  More gunfire erupted in the front of the house. Ian identified the report of Adam’s Beretta along with that of a semiautomatic machine gun. His friend was in trouble. Making a split-second decision, Ian left the back door and rounded the corner again, knowing that Adam needed assistance now.

  Hopefully he’d get a chance to save Maria later.

  As he ran toward the fray, an explosion knocked him off his feet. He felt the stitches in his leg separate, and gritted his teeth against the pain. Rolling over, he brought his arms up to protect his head as burning debris rocketed across the dark landscape.

  25

  Adam scrambled to his feet, shaking his head to clear it.

  The explosion had thrown him against the car, smashing his bruised rib cage against the open door. Ignoring the fierce ache in his side, he took a sharp breath and concentrated on protecting himself from another round of bullets.

  Whoever had been shooting at him from the front window was no longer firing. Flames spread up toward the roof, lighting the night sky. Adam couldn’t see the south side of the house, where Ian had gone, but the north side had a hole in it the size of a truck.

  While he watched, still disoriented, two figures emerged from the flames, their arms around each other.

  Adam’s vision blurred. He blinked at the brightness, recognizing that Chuy Pena was one of the figures. The other man fell to the ground and stayed there. Pena, who appeared injured, didn’t waste any time helping him. Holding one hand to his midsection, he stumbled away from the burning house.

  Adam glanced at the inferno, aware that any remaining explosives would be set off by the fire. The entire building could collapse in seconds, trapping Kari and Maria inside. Ian might be hurt, even bleeding to death.

  And Pena was getting away.

  The torch of hate that Adam had carried for Moreno hadn’t been extinguished, but neither had it transferred to Chuy Pena. Adam didn’t give a damn what happened to him. He just wanted to find Kari.

  If Pena had any brains, he’d run away from the blaze, across the dark hillside. Instead he closed the distance between Adam and the SUV, challenging him to open fire. And, although Adam had no desire to shoot Pena, he couldn’t allow a cold-blooded murderer to pass by him.

  Adam would rather kill him and be done with it, but professional ethics dictated that he attempt an arrest first. Which was a fucking hassle that he didn’t need right now. He’d abandoned his quest for revenge. It was infuriating to have to deal with this worthless scumbag while the people he loved were in danger.

  Cursing under his breath, he strode toward the SUV and trained the barrel of his Beretta on the back of Pena’s shaved head. “Get down on the ground or I’ll kill you.”

  Pena opened the driver’s-side door, ignoring him. He was gut-shot and covered in sweat. Even if he got away, he wouldn’t get far.

  “I’m not fucking around, asshole! Get down now.”

  Pena had a pistol in his hand in the blink of an eye. A bullet hissed by Adam’s left ear as he fired three times, connecting with his opponent’s chest and neck. Pena slumped against the driver’s seat and crumpled to the dirt.

  Adam stepped forward and kicked the gun away, crouching down to check for a pulse. Nothing.

  Although Pena never would have survived the stomach wound, Adam was furious with him for forcing his hand. A year ago he might have enjoyed this violent end. But the man he’d become was disturbed by the experience, rattled to the bone.

  He’d let go of his bloodlust and overcome the past. Pena, in his final act of defiance, had cast Adam in the role of vigilante again.

  Dead or alive, he was a ruthless bastard.

  Making the sign of the cross, Adam straightened and turned away from the corpse, running toward the inferno.

  Kari rose to a sitting position, coughing uncontrollably.

  Maria was lying on the dirt floor beside her, unconscious. When the explosion propelled them both down the stairs, Maria had fallen first and taken the brunt of the blow. Kari thought she’d hit her head on the ground as they fell.

  She shook her slim shoulders, trying to rouse her. “Maria, wake up!”

  Maria moaned, insensible.

  Panicking, Kari searched the dark basement for an escape route, trying to see through the smoke. The ceiling had fallen through in some places, leaving burning beams and hot ash. There was a swirling vortex of flames overhead, blazing a giant hole. They had to get out of here before the roof caved in.

  She grabbed the gallon container of water and doused Maria with it, wetting her from head to toe. Maria sputtered a weak protest, her eyelids fluttering. Encouraged by the sight, Kari poured the rest of the water on her own head and grabbed the blanket from the corner. Draping it over her shoulders, she crouched down next to Maria, slipping an arm around her waist. “I’m not going to leave you,” she promised. “But we can’t stay down here. If you don’t get up right now, we’ll both die.”

  Maria wrapped her arms around Kari’s neck, murmuring her assent. With Kari’s help, she staggered to her feet. Kari dragged Maria up the stairs, holding the blanket around her body. For a skinny girl, Maria weighed a ton. By the time Kari reached the top of the stairs, she was gasping for breath, coated in sweat.

  Unfortunately, the flames were hotter at this level and the smoke thicker. Kari couldn’t find a way out. Tossing the blanket over both of their heads, she crawled across the kitchen floor on her hands and knees, pulling Maria along with her. She expected to bump into Moreno’s body at any moment.

  It wasn’t there.

  Kari wondered if she’d made a wrong turn at the top of the stairs. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face or get a clean breath to clear her head. Maria collapsed on the sweltering linoleum, her strength sapped.

  They were going to die here. Inches from a door, probably.

  Kari stuck her head out of the blanket and tried to scream. Her lungs filled with smoke and she coughed instead, her throat burning.

  Then a man appeared before her, yelling Maria’s name. She shoved Maria’s blanketed form toward him, almost weeping with relief. “Take her,” she gasped, dizzy from lack of oxygen. “Come back for me.”

  Agent Foster was strong, but he couldn’t carry them both. He nodded and lifted Maria into his arms, disappearing into the flames.

  When Kari tr
ied to crawl after him, a ceiling beam fell down, blocking her path. Disoriented, she curled up under the kitchen table. Every time she coughed, her lungs contracted, desperate for air. Her wet hair was steaming. She was too exhausted to move, too hoarse to cry out. And she was so … sleepy.

  She closed her smoke-irritated eyes, letting the black fog envelop her.

  Adam found another corpse by the corner of the house.

  The man who’d helped Chuy escape the blaze had a large splinter of wood lodged in his upper thigh and appeared to have bled out very quickly.

  Running past him, Adam shouted Ian’s name, searching for a way inside. The front entrance was engulfed by flames. After the explosion, Pena and his buddy had come through a gaping hole on the north side.

  Adam headed in that direction, spotting Ian. He was carrying a slender bundle in a charred wool blanket. Maria.

  “Where’s Kari?”

  “Still inside the kitchen.”

  While Ian took Maria to safety, Adam ran into the burning building, calling Kari’s name. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t see anything but vague shapes. He started coughing instantly. Lowering his head, he continued toward the back of the house, where the kitchen was supposed to be. Flames licked along every wall and the ceiling was crumbling.

  Praying that Kari was still alive, he covered his mouth and nose with the crook of his arm and ducked under a fallen beam.

  The kitchen was almost unrecognizable, sizzling with heat. Adam saw her running shoes beneath a card table. It was clear from the position of her body that she was unconscious. Refusing to consider the possibility that he’d arrived too late, he shoved aside the table and bent down to pick her up.

  His ribs screamed a violent protest as he hefted her over his shoulder. She wasn’t easy to carry and he was already short of breath. But failure wasn’t an option. Summoning the last of his strength, he rushed out of the kitchen, staggering through the blazing obstacle course. He almost stumbled sideways as another beam crashed from the ceiling.

  Gritting his teeth, he picked up the pace and ignored the pain, emerging from the house in a final burst of energy.