by Laura DeLuca
Chapter Eighteen
Rebecca realized too late they had walked into a trap. She had an uneasy feeling even her missing keys were part of the ploy. Now they were all in serious trouble. While Rebecca fought to escape the grip of the ruffian who held her captive, another man struggled to keep Carmen under control. Justyn and Tom took a few tentative steps forward, down the steps onto the concrete slab where they faced their adversaries.
“Don’t move or we’ll snap their pretty little necks.”
The two guys exchanged nervous glances as the gruff voice issued the warning. Rebecca couldn’t see her aggressor, but his grip over her mouth tightened. Something tasted bitter, and she wasn’t sure if it was sweat from his palm or if she had bitten her lip in the struggle. She wanted to fight back—to make him regret ever putting his filthy hands on her, but she was overwhelmed with panic. It wasn’t fear for her own well-being that paralyzed her. If it was only her life at stake, she would have fought as hard as she had when Livy was trying to shove those sleeping pills down her throat. However, there was a tiny, defenseless being inside her who could easily become a casualty. It was only the thought of harming the baby that kept Rebecca from kicking and clawing at her attacker with everything she had. Carmen, however, had nothing holding her back and was proving much less docile.
“Get your hands of me, you pig! Aghhhh!”
Carmen swore and screamed at the top of her lungs. Her angry shrieks and barrage of vulgar words in both Spanish and English echoed across the empty streets. If anyone was out there, it would have to raise suspicions. Unfortunately, it was one o’clock in the morning, and the streets were barren. Most of the businesses on Beach Drive had long since closed and the well-to-do tourists had retired to their hotel rooms. Any passing cars wouldn’t be able to see the fray hidden in between the tall buildings that surrounded them.
“Condenado! Let me go!”
Carmen continued to struggle, but her assailant was big and brawny. As spunky as she was, her blows were ignored and she was growing weaker. Soon she would be as defenseless as Rebecca. Justyn and Tom were on their guard, taking in the situation. Rebecca could almost hear them contemplating a plan to set their girlfriends free, even if it meant putting themselves at risk. Rebecca sent a silent plea for them to run, even though she knew neither Tom nor Justyn would even consider deserting them. However, if they attacked, it would be nothing but a suicide mission. There was no way two scrawny guys could overcome the four remaining men, all of whom looked as though they’d stepped out of a professional wrestling ring.
“Tell us what you want,” Tom offered, lifting up his hands to show he was no threat. “Our wallets? We don’t have much in them, but we’ll toss them over. We’ll give you whatever you want. Just let the girls go.”
There was a sarcastic snicker from one of the masked men. He clapped the metal crowbar against his hand. “We don’t want no money. We want him.”
A dark-skinned, tattooed arm gestured to Justyn. Rebecca’s heart went from a panicked hammering to stopping altogether. She was sure she was having an all-out panic attack. Even if her captor didn’t have his hand over her mouth, she would still have had trouble breathing. Justyn showed no such fear. He pushed Tom out of harm’s way, practically knocking his friend over, and raised his hands invitingly, despite the fact he had no defense aside from his bare hands.
“I’m right here,” he announced. “Come and get me. Or are you only brave enough to get rough with defenseless women?”
Rebecca’s enforcer grunted, and Carmen’s guy cursed under his breath as the Latina landed a good shot to his gut with her left elbow. But neither of them relinquished their grip even after their real target stepped into the open alleyway. The four remaining thugs took a step toward Justyn, but it was the one with the crowbar who seemed the most offended by Justyn’s taunt. Despite the dim lighting cast by the far-off streetlights, Rebecca couldn’t help but notice he had dark brown skin adorned from top to bottom with tattoos, including a familiar crucifix that covered the better half of his left arm.
It’s Albert! Oh my God, it’s Albert!
Rebecca knew she was right. It didn’t matter that she couldn’t see his face. It was hard to forget such elaborate artwork. She tried to squirm around to see if she recognized any of the other looming figures—if perhaps Steve or one of the line cooks were in the posse. If she knew any of the others, there were no distinguishing features to give them away, and the nylon stockings distorted their facial features beyond recognition.
“You need to learn a lesson about turf,” Albert announced as he wielded the crowbar like a whirling baton.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Justyn told him. “But I’m sure it’s all a big misunderstanding.”
Justyn sounded calm, almost neutral, but Rebecca recognized that cold, blank look in his eyes. She had only seen that countenance once before, back in their off-campus apartment when Livy and Professor Carter tried to kill her. He had faced that homicidal duo with the same kamikaze courage with which he was staring down this street gang. Only this time, he didn’t have a karate black belt waiting in the wings to back him up. He only had Tom, and they were greatly outnumbered. But Justyn was ignoring that fact as he stared the criminals down without fear. Rebecca knew Justyn had no regard for his own safety when he thought she was in danger, and it absolutely terrified her.
“There ain’t no misunderstanding,” Albert continued, making it obvious he was the ring leader. “You’ve been dealing on my streets. I don’t know what the game is where you come from, but here, folks know this is my territory. You crossed a line, and we’s here to teach you a lesson.”
Justyn’s eyes blazed with unspoken rage. If he was preparing to make his usual sarcastic comeback, he didn’t have time. Even before Albert finished his sentence, he lunged forward, and the crowbar flew toward Justyn’s head. Rebecca’s scream of warning came out muffled by the dirty hand that gagged her, but Justyn’s reflexes were quick. He ducked down in time, and instead of the metal cracking his skull, it merely grazed his shoulder. The countermove threw Albert off balance, and he fell. There was a clatter of metal as the weapon hit the concrete.
Tom was on top of it at once, kicking it out of Albert’s reach. He tried to make a grab for it himself, but one of the other guys twisted his arm behind his back and wrestled him to the ground.
“Get your freaking hands of me you—humph,” Tom ended his sentence with a grunt when a fist came in contact with his lip.
Tom was able to hold his own against his foe, but that still left three men heading in Justyn’s direction, all of whom were twice his size. Justyn ignored them and made a mad dash for Rebecca, but Albert recovered quickly and had no intention of letting his prey get away so easily. Rebecca watched with growing horror as the thug grabbed hold of Justyn’s ankle, sending him sprawling. Her fiancé grimaced and cried out when his face slammed into the concrete. Luckily, Justyn didn’t notice the blood welling from the wound on his cheek or his phobia might have given his attackers an even greater advantage. As it was, three of them were already starting to gang up on him. Albert pinned his shoulders to the ground, and Rebecca found herself sobbing as the other two barbarians took turns punching and kicking Justyn in the ribs. He tried to squirm out of their grasp, but it was a battle he couldn’t possibly win. Rebecca felt the pain like it was her own with every strike.
“Do ya still think you was smart coming into my territory?”
“You bastards!” Tom cursed before taking another hit in the jaw. Even afterward, he kept yelling, “Screw you. I’ll kick all your asses!”
Tom’s idle threats had little effect on the angry mob. Justyn grunted when the boot smashed into his abdomen, temporarily winding him. Still, he struggled to lift his head to speak. Albert humored him and for a moment, the torrent of abuse ceased.
“You got what you wanted.” Justyn breathed heavily, grimacing with every word. “You can beat me to death if you want to. Just let
the others go. They have nothing to do with this.”
Albert laughed, a cold and guttural sound. “You ain’t in no position to give no orders.”
Blood oozed down his cheek, and he clutched his side, but still, Justyn struggled to pull himself to his knees. For the first time since they’d met, Rebecca saw him completely surrender. He practically bowed in homage before Albert. “Please, I’m begging you. At least let the girls go. My fiancée—she’s pregnant.”
“You shoulda thought of that before pissing off the boss man. Whatever happens to your pretty little puta, it’s all on you.”
Somehow Albert had recovered his crowbar and now approached his adversary with a grin that was visible even through the nylon stocking covering his face. There was no humility or compassion in his voice. Justyn’s pleas fell on the same deaf ears as Tom’s worthless threats. When Albert came toward him again, Justyn didn’t have the strength or the reflexes to fight him. He was so bruised and battered he could barely stand. Rebecca knew if the weapon hit its target, it would all be over. One crack to the skull with that iron bar and Justyn was as good as dead. Anxiety for her unborn child was overshadowed by fear for its father. Rebecca started to fight back harder than she’d ever fought before. She twisted, kicked, and finally bit down hard on the crusty hand over her mouth—so hard she tasted blood.
“Crazy bitch!” the man fumed.
Despite his angry words, the action had the desired effect. The punk loosened his grip enough for Rebecca to wriggle free. Without stopping to consider the possible consequences, she ran straight for Albert and leapt onto his back. It might not have been the best line of defense, but she couldn’t think of anything else to do. At least it bought Justyn some time to come up with a counterattack. The fact that he was now more concerned with her than Albert was giving him a second wind, and he managed to block the next few punches Albert’s lackeys aimed at him.
“Becca, no!” he cried out. “Run! Get out of here!”
“Listen … to him … Bec!” Tom grunted as he fought. He finally overpowered his attacker and had him in a headlock, but his face was almost as bloody as Justyn’s. “Run for it!”
Rebecca didn’t listen. Instead, she dug her nails into the skin beneath the nylon mask, and the wetness she felt told her she had drawn blood for the second time. Albert stumbled forward with her still clawing and screaming like a wild woman. It was as though she had gone into berserker mode. She landed one good blow to his temple before he finally managed to throw her to the ground. Since she had driven him to his knees, she didn’t fall far, but it was enough to distract both the boys from the fight. She flinched more for them than for herself as they both took hits—Justyn to the side of his head, and Tom a little lower in the male anatomy. Tom grunted and fell to his knees.
That finally pushed Carmen over the edge. With one last shriek, she managed to escape her confinement as well. Her captor had never gotten a firm hold of her, and she had been screeching and cursing the entire time. Rebecca prayed all the noise had gotten someone’s attention. Even if they were too afraid to come out and help themselves, maybe they would call nine-one-one. At least that was the feeble hope Rebecca clung to as the other men started to surround them. She knew even with all four of them fighting, there was no way they could escape without help. They were four puny college kids, and these were obviously hardcore criminals.
“Leave him alone, you bastardo!” Carmen screeched.
Once she was free, Carmen instantly ran to her boyfriend’s aid, kicking and throwing wild punches at anyone who dared come near them; her posture was almost territorial in its stance. Tom was still crouched over, recovering from that last kick. Justyn had taken so many knocks, she had no idea how he managed to pull himself to his feet at all, but he was back in the fray, tackling Albert and another man simultaneously. Rebecca hadn’t been forgotten either. One of the lackeys lunged toward her before she even had time to pick herself up off the ground. It was all happening so fast she was starting to feel dizzy and confused.
“Don’t touch her!”
Justyn tried to fight his way through the throng to where Rebecca still sprawled on the ground. Albert stuck out his leg and tripped him before he made it even halfway there. The gang leader had the crowbar raised, but Justyn rolled out of the way. There was a rattle when the metal hit the cement, but that wasn’t the sound that caught everyone’s attention.
Rebecca gasped and covered her ears when she heard the deafening blast of a pistol firing.
Chapter Nineteen
It was like someone had rung the intermission bell in the wrestling arena. All ten of the people in the alley froze in mid-step, mid-punch, or mid-scream. The crash of the bullet echoed through the empty parking lot, making Rebecca’s ears ring. For a few horrible seconds, she feared one of her friends had been struck down. She squinted to try and get a clearer view, and half-expected to find a puddle of blood expanding on the concrete. Thankfully, every one of her allies was white-faced but unharmed. The thugs appeared equally shocked by the unexpected gunfire and peered over their shoulders for the culprit.
“That was a warning shot! There aren’t going to be any more warnings.”
Everyone turned at the same time toward the steps of Tamilio’s where the shot had originated. There they found Fernando, still dressed in the servant’s uniform he wore in the last act of the play. In his trembling hand, he clutched a smoking nine millimeter revolver.
“No one move!” Fernando ordered when Albert inched in his direction. His normally dull eyes were wild. “Drop your weapons and get away from those kids or I swear to God I’ll shoot every last one of you good-for-nothing bastards.” The dealers were unsure for a minute, as if they suspected him of bluffing. After all, the balding businessman was barely five feet tall and hardly a threatening presence. But Fernando wasn’t waiting for a vote. He pulled back the hammer on the gun to show them just how serious he was. “I have plenty of bullets,” he warned. “Do you really want to gamble with your lives?”
“Screw this!”
One of the men was already running down the street and away from the new danger. Most of his comrades took his hasty departure as their cue to hightail it out of there as well. One by one they backed away and ran. Only Albert contemplated the dare. His outrage seeped through the nylon masking his face. Finally, realizing his comrades had lost their backbone and he was on his own, the thug released a slew of curses. He tossed the useless crowbar to the ground before turning toward the exit of the alleyway. However, before he fled, he made one final hateful promise.
“I ain’t done with you. One way or another, you’re going down.”
Even as Albert’s thumping feet turned the corner, Rebecca finally heard the blessed sound of sirens in the distance. She knew it had only been about ten minutes since they’d stepped out the door of the restaurant, but she still let out a breath she hadn’t even realized she’d been holding. Finally help was coming.
“Jesus Christ,” Fernando mumbled. It wasn’t until Albert turned the corner that his shaking legs gave way and he collapsed onto the steps. “That was almost too much excitement for my bad heart to take. Thank God they didn’t call my bluff.”
“Wh—what d-do you mean?” Tom asked. The poor guy was still trying to catch his breath after that kick in the pants. “You weren’t really gonna shoot them?”
“This gun is a stage prop,” Fernando revealed, his voice unsteady. “It’s loaded with blanks. I could fire all I wanted, but it wouldn’t have done a damn bit of good.”
Fernando dropped the useless weapon to the ground seconds before the squad car pulled into the driveway. Rebecca realized her boss had risked his life to save them, with no real protection. It was insane, but without Fernando’s quick thinking and his superb acting abilities, they could have all been killed. As it was, Justyn could only barely lift himself up, but he still crawled to her side, looking frantic.
“Becca? Becca, are you all right?”
Still
reeling from the encounter as well as Fernando’s admission, Rebecca had a hard time finding her voice. She could only gasp when she saw the blood dripping down Justyn’s cheek and the way he grimaced as he moved. Despite the fact that he was obviously in pain, he insisted on helping her to her feet. He brushed the pebbles from her clothes and fussed over her skinned knee, growing pale at the sight of the wound even though his own injuries were far more severe. He was so consumed with worrying about her that he was oblivious to everything else around them, including the squad car pulling up.
“I’m okay,” Rebecca insisted. She was amazed how calm her own voice sounded when she finally willed herself to speak. “I didn’t get hurt. But, Justyn, look at you! You’re a wreck.” She reached out a hand to touch his bloodied face and noticed there were pieces of gravel embedded in the wound. “On second thought, don’t look.”
Of course it was too late. He had already touched his cheek, and the last of his color drained away when he saw the crimson stain it left on his fingers. It was only his concern for her that helped him overcome his phobia—that and the fact Tom and Carmen had finally wandered over. Justyn would have rather died than let Tom know his friend the “vampire” was troubled by the sight of blood.
“Dude, you okay?” Tom asked. He eyed Justyn up and down before answering his own question, “You look like crap.”
“Look who’s talking, gimpy.” Even though she tried to cover it up with sarcasm, Carmen was obviously as frazzled as Rebecca. She pointed out Tom’s split lip and the darkening bruise on his cheek with a trembling finger. “You two both got your asses whooped.”
