“Is that why your grandmother tried to hook us up, so I could show you how to grow a pair?”
A corner of Luisa’s mouth quirked up into an insouciant smile that charmed Finn but enraged Javier. He roared in anger and backhanded Luisa across the face. The butt of his gun struck her on her cheek, opening up a sizable cut on the right side of her face. Her helmet went flying, and her goggles skittered across the hardwood floor. Blood poured down her cheek, but she didn’t wipe it away. She kept her eyes on Javier. Watching him. Waiting for his next move. And, Finn hoped, planning her own.
“Is she trying to piss him off?” Katie asked.
“If she is,” Finn said, “she’s doing a hell of a good job.”
“You got everything you asked for,” Luisa said as a rivulet of blood dripped down the side of her neck and seeped into the collar of her uniform. “Let the hostages go.”
After the Spanish speakers in the room translated the conversation for those who didn’t understand or couldn’t hear what was being said, an excited buzz filled the air at the prospect of freedom. But Javier quickly dashed everyone’s nascent hopes.
“I can’t let them go yet. I want them to witness your execution first. That’s a vacation memory that should last a lifetime, don’t you think?” He forced Luisa to her knees and pressed the gun to the back of her head. “Do you have any last words before I do what my grandmother couldn’t?”
“Just one.”
Luisa scanned the crowd, her eyes taking in the sea of faces staring back at her. Then she turned her eyes toward Finn, her gaze as warm and tender as a caress.
“Now.”
A single gunshot rang out as the room went dark. In addition to frightened screams, Finn heard the distinctive chop of helicopter rotors, a jumble of voices yelling commands, and the staccato bursts of automatic gunfire.
She threw herself on the floor and wrapped her arms around her head. Others near her did the same. She assumed Jill and Ryan were curled up next to her, but she couldn’t see anything in the inky darkness that enveloped them.
All around the room, bullets ricocheted off hard surfaces or thumped into soft ones. Finn heard screams of fear, cries of pain, and the thud of bodies hitting the floor.
She started to crawl away—to feel her way in the dark until she reached the nearest exit—but she forced herself to remain where she was. She couldn’t see well enough to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.
So she closed her eyes and waited for it to be over. She waited for her nightmare to finally come to an end.
❖
Luisa didn’t take time to think. As soon as she gave the signal to her colleagues monitoring the feed from the hidden camera, she pitched forward and rolled to her left. She felt the bullet from Javier’s gun graze her shoulder. The missile tore through her uniform shirt and seared her flesh, but as far as she could tell, didn’t pierce her skin.
She scrabbled on the floor like a crab, blindly sweeping her arms across the terrain in front of her. Her left hand struck what felt like her helmet. She started to put it on, but the chin strap was too damaged to keep it in place so she tossed it aside and kept searching for what she really needed—her night vision goggles. She nearly cried with relief when the fingers of her right hand slid across one of the polycarbonate lenses.
She placed the goggles over her eyes and cinched the adjustable strap to secure them into place. The room that had been pitch-black seconds before now glowed neon green. She squinted to protect her eyes from the bright white flashes of muzzle fire as Javier’s men and the Federal Police tried to gun each other down.
As she slowly scanned the room, she saw the hostages diving under their chairs to seek cover. She saw her colleagues rushing in to save them. And she saw Javier’s men fighting to hold their ground. What she didn’t see was what she wanted to see the most: Javier Villalobos. She pulled her pistol from its hiding place in the back of her waistband and joined the fray.
The vans Director Chavez had called for didn’t contain the ransom Villalobos had demanded but reinforcements. When Manuel had opened the rear doors to inspect the cargo, he had been greeted not by the riches he had been expecting to see but twenty armed men drawing down on him. He had tried to turn and run, but Director Chavez had held him in place by draping a beefy arm across his shoulders.
“Act like everything’s okay,” Director Chavez had said, “or my men will kill you before you take two steps.”
Manuel had nodded like a bobblehead doll and flashed a thumbs-up sign to his fellow gunmen.
“Good,” Director Chavez had said. “Now pretend to search Officer Moreno for weapons and send her inside. Then climb into the van to ‘count your loot.’”
Manuel had reluctantly acted as instructed. When he climbed in the van, an officer had taken his weapons, handcuffed him, and placed a muzzle over his mouth so he wouldn’t be tempted to call out a warning to the rest of his fellow gunmen.
As Luisa walked toward the theater, she had heard a helicopter in the distance. Javier’s men had probably thought the chopper was just another news crew covering the standoff, but she had known it contained the remaining members of her team. The ones who had lowered themselves to the roof of the theater and worked their way inside while the troops on the ground advanced on the gunmen outside.
The battle was fierce but brief. It lasted only a few minutes, but for the hostages, it probably felt like hours. After the command came to cease fire, the emergency lights were turned on, and Luisa removed her night vision goggles so she could inspect the damage.
The room was in shambles. Bullet holes pockmarked the ceiling, walls, and floor. Dozens of gunmen lay dead or dying. Others held their hands over their heads and pleaded for mercy. Some of the hostages were wounded, too, though none of the injuries appeared to be mortal. Thankfully. Luisa didn’t want to imagine the fallout if one of the hostages had been killed by friendly fire. After Javier’s men were ushered out and herded into the waiting vans, officers began ushering the hostages who could walk to safety and directed medical personnel to tend to the ones who couldn’t.
Luisa tried to locate Finn in the chaos but didn’t see her. Then she heard Finn yell her name. She turned toward the sound just in time to see Javier Villalobos using Finn as a human shield as he backed out of the room. Luisa drew down on him.
“Javier Villalobos, you’re under arrest. Release your hostage, drop your weapon, and put your hands over your head.”
“If you want me, Moreno, you have to come get me. Make it fast or your girlfriend and I will get this party started without you.”
He kept going despite her admonitions for him to stop so she gave chase. Despite her desperate desire to apprehend him and free Finn, her pursuit was controlled rather than reckless. She slowly advanced toward him while he dragged Finn through a phalanx of officers helpless to halt his progress. They couldn’t fire on him without risking hitting Finn—or causing the gun he was holding on her to accidentally discharge.
“Give it up, Villalobos,” she said as she continued her steady pursuit. “It ends here.”
“It ends when I say it does.”
Luisa tightened her finger on the trigger of her gun but didn’t squeeze. For an absurd moment, she wished she could be like a character in one of Angelina Jolie’s action films. The one where Angelina and her crew of assassins had defied the laws of physics by getting bullets to curl instead of traveling in a straight line. If she could do that, she could save Finn from this madman once and for all. Instead, she watched helplessly as Villalobos backed toward the speedboat moored in the lagoon and climbed aboard.
Using a pair of plastic handcuffs he must have stolen from a fallen officer, Villalobos tried to bind Finn’s wrists to the boat’s railing. She resisted his efforts to restrain her, so he was able to tie only one of her hands, not both. As Finn tried in vain to free herself, Villalobos started the engine and gunned the throttle.
Luisa didn’t hesitate. She holstered her gun, jumped
into a second speedboat moored nearby, and went after him.
The boats’ lights illuminated the dark lagoon as waves from the churning engines crashed against the shore. Luisa registered the rows of empty hotel rooms looming dark and abandoned on her left and right, but her main focus was on the boat in front of her. On the fleeing suspect behind the wheel and the woman he had forced to accompany him. She was determined to capture both. So she could put Javier Villalobos away for the rest of his life, and love Finn Chamberlain for the rest of hers.
“Fuck you, Moreno,” Villalobos yelled, the words nearly drowned out by the wind whipping in Luisa’s ears.
He stuck one arm out and fired off a series of wild shots. Luisa ducked behind the Plexiglas mounted in front of the steering wheel of the boat she was driving, all too aware the thin composite material she was hiding behind was designed to protect the boat’s driver from nothing more serious than wind, rain, and the occasional low-flying bird. Where was her riot shield when she needed it?
As she began to gain ground on Villalobos, she heard Director Chavez yelling commands in the receiver wedged in her left ear.
“Let him go, Moreno. The navy can handle it from here.”
Navy warships were waiting in the Caribbean, but they were so far offshore they wouldn’t be able to scramble the smaller crafts on board in time to intercept Villalobos’s speedboat. She had to catch him before he reached open water. If she didn’t, he would be gone. He would be the most wanted man in Mexico, but thanks to the folk-hero status he would achieve with the rather large segment of society who deified criminals, he would have plenty of places to hide.
“No can do, sir.”
“Are you refusing a direct order?”
“I won’t give up my pursuit, sir.” Luisa had always done everything her superiors had commanded her to do, but not this time. She couldn’t give Javier Villalobos a chance to escape. Not when so much had already been lost. Not when so much was still at stake. “I want to finish the job Carlos Ramos didn’t get a chance to.”
Director Chavez was quiet for a moment. When he finally spoke, he sounded more like a proud father than an angry commanding officer.
“In that case, go get your man.”
“Yes, sir.”
Luisa opened up the throttle even more. As the boat picked up speed, she braced her legs to keep from falling over. The hull bounced over the roiling wake trailing behind Villalobos’s boat. She felt like she was riding a Jet Ski each time the boat went airborne and crashed back to the surface of the water. She gripped the steering wheel as hard as she could, praying the boat wouldn’t take on too much air and flip end over end.
Overhead, news and police helicopters followed the chase. Thanks to the bright spotlights playing across the water, Luisa could see a small island in the distance. If she could steer Villalobos toward it, she could pursue him on solid ground, buying time for the navy to back her up and decreasing his chances of getting away. But if she got too close to him, he might ram his boat into hers and both vehicles could capsize—if they didn’t go up in a ball of flames first.
She had to take a chance. A calculated risk that, if it didn’t pan out, could end up being the worst move she had ever made.
She reached for her gun and told herself not to miss.
She aimed low, trying to avoid a ricochet that could hit the gas tank. Or even worse, Finn. When she was sure she had the shot she wanted, she fired three times in rapid succession at the speedboat’s motor. All three shots must have hit home because the boat’s engine began to spew thick plumes of bluish-gray smoke.
Villalobos’s boat started to lose speed. When the engine sputtered and died, the boat drifted to a stop. Luisa pulled up beside him, her gun still drawn.
“It’s over, Villalobos. Let me see your hands,” she ordered.
He turned toward her but didn’t comply with her command.
“Don’t make me kill you.”
“All right. You got me.”
Villalobos showed his hands. His left hand was empty, but his right still held a gun.
“Drop the weapon.” Luisa slowly enunciated each word as she tightened her grip on her own pistol. “Toss your gun in the water and place your hands behind your head.”
“Whatever you say, Officer.”
Like a magician trying to distract his audience with sleight of hand, Villalobos raised his left hand as if he meant to surrender, then jabbed the right in Luisa’s direction. The gun bucked in his hand. Luisa fired off a round of her own. Villalobos’s head snapped back and his lifeless body fell onto the bow of the boat, but Luisa didn’t get a chance to linger over the sight.
What felt like a sledgehammer hit her in the center of her chest. The impact knocked her off balance. She stumbled backward and fell overboard, her hands clawing at the air as she tried in vain to breathe.
She felt the water hit her in the back. Then she felt it surround her and swallow her whole. Her lungs burned, screaming for oxygen, but she was unable to fill them as she sank further and further into oblivion.
Her last thought was of Finn. Happy, smiling, and finally free.
❖
“Luisa!”
Finn watched helplessly as Luisa tumbled into the water and disappeared below the surface. One of the helicopters overhead shined a light on the spot where Luisa had gone under. Finn stared at the spot, waiting for Luisa to resurface, but Luisa didn’t come up for air.
Finn tugged at the restraint around her wrist but couldn’t pull herself free. Sliding her hand along the railing wasn’t an option either. The handcuff was cinched too tight to allow freedom of movement. Growing desperate, she kicked open a nearby storage compartment and peered inside, looking for something—anything—she could use. She spotted a utility knife, stretched to reach it with her free hand, and flicked it open. She placed the serrated blade between her wrist and the restraint and sawed frantically at the reinforced plastic strap.
She could feel the minutes ticking away. Along with Luisa’s chances of survival.
When the handcuff finally gave way, she tossed it aside and gathered her courage for what she knew she needed to do. She had never been especially fond of the open water and, thanks to an unpleasant encounter with a piranha in the muddy Amazon River, she absolutely loathed water she couldn’t see through.
Refusing to let her fear get the best of her, she threw herself headfirst into the inky depths, diving lower and lower as she searched for the woman who had saved her life by risking her own.
The helicopter’s spotlight penetrated only a few feet below the surface of the water. Finn opened her eyes wider, straining to see as the light began to fade. She spotted a shadow a few feet further down. Was it seaweed, a passing fish, the resort’s resident stingray, or a hand reaching out for hers?
She lurched toward it, and her fingers brushed against Luisa’s wrist. She latched on and pulled, kicking toward a surface that seemed much too far away.
Her heart, taxed by exertion, lack of oxygen, and fear, felt like it couldn’t take much more. Neither could she. The uncertainty she had felt during the past twelve hours paled in comparison to the uncertainty she felt now, her concerns for her own safety dwarfed by her concerns for Luisa’s well-being.
Finally, her head broke the surface. And she inhaled a lungful of the sweetest air she had ever tasted. She lay on her back and pulled Luisa on top of her, making sure to keep Luisa’s head above the water. Then she backstroked toward the undamaged speedboat Luisa had piloted. She was too tired and weak from her desperate dive to drag Luisa out of the water and into the boat itself, so she maneuvered Luisa’s limp body onto the small ledge on the back and tried to determine how badly she was wounded.
She had seen Javier take aim. She had watched as his shot had hit Luisa squarely in the chest. Had the bullet ripped through her heart, or had she been lucky enough to escape with only a flesh wound?
Finn felt something cold and hard when she tore at Luisa’s body armor. She tugged
at the object and peered at a badly misshapen hollow point bullet. Figuring the police might need the bullet as evidence—or Luisa might want to keep it as a macabre souvenir—she shoved it in the back pocket of her sodden cargo shorts. Then she pulled off Luisa’s body armor, tossed it aside, and shoved her hand inside Luisa’s uniform shirt, feeling for blood. Her fingers came away clean, but Luisa’s chest was eerily still. Luisa’s body armor had prevented the bullet from penetrating her skin, but the force of the blow had stopped her heart.
Finn pulled herself up on the narrow ledge and straddled Luisa’s body.
“Come on, super cop,” she said as she placed her hands on Luisa’s chest and began gentle but forceful compressions. “Breathe.”
She pinched Luisa’s nostrils shut, placed her mouth over hers, and forced air into her lungs. Then she sat back, waiting for Luisa’s chest to rise and fall on its own. Detecting no movement, she repeated the process. Again. And again. And again.
Finn tossed her hair out of her face, wondering if the salty liquid running down her face was seawater or tears. She caressed Luisa’s cheek, certain of the answer.
“We were supposed to tell each other all our secrets, not part ways with so many things left unsaid. This is not how this was supposed to end.”
Luisa coughed wetly, her shoulders bouncing with effort as her body tried to convince itself it was no longer drowning. She turned toward Finn with a faint smile on her face.
“Did you have something better in mind?” she asked, her voice raspy.
“As a matter of fact, I do.”
Finn’s tension melted away, replaced by an almost overwhelming sense of contentment. She didn’t feel aimless anymore. She was meant to be here. With this woman. Now. And forever. She kissed Luisa. Feeling the life flow back into her. Feeling it flow into herself.
“I don’t know about you,” she said, “but I could use a vacation.”
“I know the perfect spot.”
Luisa opened her arms, inviting Finn to return to the best place she had ever been. The place she never intended to leave.
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