by Cait Jarrod
Chapter Twenty
Larry’s heart beat double-time, pounding in his ears so loudly other noises were wiped out as he ran for cover toward a small run down garage along the road. Ten Black Scorpions rode motorcycles heading toward his way. Four against ten, no way would he, Jake, Quigley, and Jackson outrun motorcycles once they broke through the gate.
“Coming in,” Paul shouted in their earpieces.
Larry ducked behind a tree next to the garage, a few feet from the fence bordering the road, his gun at the ready.
Jake, Quigley, and Jackson fell in around him, guns drawn. Their bodies were shielded by either a tree or the garage.
Paul maneuvered the helicopter, darting it back and forth as if he was it chasing the advancing motorcyclist in a game of tag.
From their location, they had no choice but to keep cover and wait for the outcome of Paul’s one-man team.
The nose of the helicopter aimed toward the ground and lowered.
“No, man, no!” Jake yelled, his hands raking through his hair.
The weight of the anxiety Jake felt vibrated off him at the difficult maneuver Paul undertook. If the nose of the helicopter didn’t pull up in time, Paul would crash. Larry held his breath, along with the rest of the wide-eyed men.
“Shut up, bro.” Paul replied, his voice deadly calm. “You’re messing with my concentration.” The helicopter leveled out and flew at the Scorpion leading the pack.
The bike swerved, lost control and flipped, front end over rear. The driver flew off the seat, landing on the ground in front of another motorcycle. The wheels rolled over the down Black Scorpion and the bike toppled over.
“There’s more than one way to skin a cat.” Paul chuckled. “Eye patch and his side kick are down.”
“Two down,” Quigley said, crossing his arms and chuckling. “I love this guy.”
The helicopter lifted.
“What the hell is this?” Jake cut his eyes at Jackson. “The owner of a sports store is your eyes in the sky?” Skepticism laced his voice.
“You’re not the only one who keeps secrets.” Jackson remained stoic, not giving any indication if his high-school friend’s five year disappearance had irked him or not. “I’m not at liberty to say any more.”
Jake’s jaw stiffened and he gave a slight nod. The silent agreement to discuss it no further was made.
The helicopter banked right, lowered, and rocked back and forth, inching toward the bikes as if the massive machine was a border collie herding sheep.
“Damn, he’s good.” Admiration for Paul’s ability reflected in Quigley’s eyes. “Guns!”
Gunfire erupted in a storm of pings against the aluminum sides of the helicopter.
“Shit.” Larry tapped Jake’s shoulder on the run past and took off. “Team one heading to trees,” he transmitted.
“Team two covering,” Jackson said, snapping a rifle together and flattening to the ground. Several yards away, Quigley mimicked the act.
Bypassing the tree line where they’d found the snake pits, Larry climbed the stock fence and headed toward a grove of trees midway down the field.
“Damn, they have all the toys,” Jake said between breaths, his pace even with Larry’s.
Larry took cover behind one of the five trees in the dip of the field and hoped Quigley and Jackson were as good as their fine tune actions said they were. “Paul’s got a good cat and mouse game going on.” He aimed his gun at a driver, firing at the helicopter, and squeezed the trigger.
The guy fell to the ground. The bike spun out.
“You boys and your secrets,” he said.
Jake rested against another tree and let off two rounds. “Yeah, go figure.”
A shot missed and the other hit a Scorpion in the shoulder, but didn’t deter him from driving toward them.
“You just pissed him off.” Larry swung around the trunk of the tree to get in a better position.
“That or he recognized me.” Jake moved away from the tree. Feet shoulder-width apart, , he fired his gun until the gun’s magazine emptied.
Larry covered, firing at the remaining moving targets.
Jake’s target jolted and collapsed to the ground, the bike went with him.
Five more Scorpions tumbled over. Either Larry hit them, or Quigley and Jackson had.
“Paul had all the signs. No show.” Larry pushed the lever on his gun, discharged the magazine, and snapped a spare from his belt. “Take off at the last minute.”
“I can hear you,” Paul said. “Open mike, remember?”
Except for the whirl of the helicopter, the rest of the motors quieted. Larry moved out from behind the tree, scanned the area.
“Six o’clock!” Paul said, his words firm, but tone urgent.
On full alert, Larry whirled.
Bullets whizzed by.
Two men dressed in Black Scorpion jackets stormed toward them, guns blasting, and crumbled to the ground.
“Hoorah!” Paul shouted. “Snipers Jackson and Quigley are on fire.”
Another well-kept secret. Larry eyed Jake, his mouth pulled down cartoonlike in disbelief.
“Snipers?” Jake asked. “Where the fuck have I been?”
“Playing dead,” Paul responded in a patronizing tone and made another pass with the helicopter over the now quiet field. “All clear.”
Larry motioned toward the woods on the other side of the field. “Let’s roll!”
Confirmation in his earpiece from each of the guys told him they followed his lead. He jogged across the expanse of land at a steady gait, surveying the motionless bodies and watching for sudden movement. Ten brown jacket-wearing Black Scorpions lay on the ground, their bodies disjointed and blood seeping out of bullet holes. Larry couldn’t help but wonder what retaliation would be in store for them over this battle.
A gunshot pierced the air.
Larry hit the ground, a sickening sensation smacking his gut. A quick look over his shoulder confirmed his raw feeling. The leader of the group, identified by an eye patch, swayed over Jake’s motionless body. “You fucking pig!” he gruffed, anger blazing in his eyes.
No. Fucking. Way. Larry squeezed and held the trigger. The automatic unloaded the magazine, pumping ammo into the man’s upper torso. The Black Scorpion jerked and flinched until he hit the ground.
Pain pounded in Larry’s ears in a deafening roar. He raced over to his friend, knelt, and pressed two fingers to the pulse in his neck. “Jake!”
****
“Charlene!”
In the distance, Charlene heard her name called, but her eyes wouldn’t open.
“Wake up! Charlene!” She recognized the familiar female voice. By the high pitch, the person was excited, yet the shaky edged tone gave away she was scared. The evil men took her to the pits. She held her breath, scared she’d hear a rattle like Larry had, and would have to fight off a snake with nothing more than her hands and feet.
Pressure wrapped around her wrists, comparable to what she figured a calf underwent at a rodeo.
“They’re going to drag you behind them,” Celine sobbed.
Celine. Had she been moved? Were Celine and her in the pit?
Charlene came slamming back into her body and opened her eyes. Her vision blurred then sharpened on the dark green horizon and the outline of the mountains way off in the distance. Earthy, hay scents drifted over her.
She hadn’t been moved to the pits.
A headache flared behind her eyes. She went to rub them, but couldn’t. Her arms stretched over her head and her wrists were bound.
Sunlight hit her face from all directions. Squinting, she eyed three figures standing nearby then twisted to see what held her against her will.
Sheer fright radiated through her body. A piece of rope connected her to the backend of a four-wheeler.
“Take them off!” Celine yelled. Desperation mixed with tears laced her words.
Angry faces popped into her line of vision.
“Untie h
er, Albert,” Roach ordered, grasping Celine’s shoulder and shoving her backwards.
Albert smelled of sweat, dirt, and cow manure. He removed the rope and grasped the elbow to the hand she used to cover her nose and mouth. “Get up.”
Charlene rose, almost crashing into the woman called Lavender, her face pinched with worry and her eyes wide. “Monk, there’s a problem,” she said, touching his arm and guiding him a few steps to the side.
Charlene glanced at Celine, standing behind Roach and focusing on Lavender and Monk.
“The Black Scorpions arrived, found the agent Mathews used to bait them here, and…”
A wave of fear mixed with excitement slugged Charlene’s stomach. Larry was there! He came looking for her, for them. Still, his name was used simultaneously with the Black Scorpions. She held her breath and waited for Lavender’s next words.
“And what?” Monk barked. He nailed Lavender with a glare, yet a touch of tenderness edged the corners of his eyes.
Her gaze dropped to her hands, clutching together. “Um, none of them made it.”
White-hot terror blanketed Charlene’s skin, intensifying the pain behind her eyes and leaving her strangely detached from her body.
Monk stiffened and his hands fisted. “Who didn’t make it? The agents?”
The withering expression washing over Lavender’s face gave Charlene an inkling of hope that Larry was okay. “The Scorpions. No one is alive.”
Charlene heaved a sigh of relief and heard Celine’s exhale. She had to be as worried as Charlene. If Larry was here that meant he brought backup. Steve could have been in danger, too.
“What!” Monk’s eyebrows narrowed. His voice sounded as if he swallowed a wad of paper. He tugged off his cap and ran a hand over his face. “You’re mistaken. My brother is the best fighter in the gang.”
Lavender nodded, tears leaking down her face. “I know.”
Rage boiled over Monk’s expression; his face turned beet red and his nostrils flared. “That fucker!” He stormed over to the fence, gripped the top row of barbed wire, and stared out into the dense woods.
After a few minutes, he faced them. “Roach, go to the bunker and bring Mathews to me.” The emotion that had overwhelmed Monk’s features disappeared. He was composed, yet his eyes held a toughness that told Charlene he flipped a switch from a mild mannered Impaler to a callous criminal, a Black Scorpion.
Lavender’s intake of breath confirmed her hunch and sent goose bumps over Charlene’s skin.
“Get them out of here,” Lavender whispered over her shoulder to Albert.
Monk’s hard eyes landed on Lavender then on Albert shooing Charlene and Celine to the four-wheeler. “Stop!”
The three of them didn’t move. Albert’s body stiffened as if he was more a squeamish teenager than a gang member.
Monk walked over to Charlene, leaned in until his nose was a mere fraction from hers. “Mrs. Gibson?” He arched a brow.
Charlene shook her head so fast she thought it’d go into convulsions. “No, I’m not.”
He narrowed an eye on Celine. “You?”
She pressed her lips together and shook her head.
He studied them for a long moment, looking between Celine and Charlene, before his chin jutted outward. “Get them out of here.”
****
Quigley and Jackson made quick work of removing Jake’s shirt and undid the Velcro on his vest.
A hole lodged into the right-hand side of Jake’s shirt, stopping in his bulletproof vest.
“Damn, you all keep manhandling me, I’m gonna wonder about ya,” Jake said, his voice weak.
Releasing a sigh of relief, Larry ran a hand down his face. No matter how many times he was faced with this scenario, each one cut him to the quick. “Hey, buddy.”
“Hey, back.” Jake rose to a sitting position. “Damn, that stung.”
“You guys got to stop with this shit!” Quigley said, stepping aside and puffing out air.
Larry took in the fit, stealthy soldier. Quigley’s hands rested on his hips and he stared at the sky. Something bad must have gone down for him to be this shaken up.
“Package found. At your one o’clock,” Paul said in their ears, “near an old abandoned shed. No access by air. Guns alive.”
A deluge of adrenaline slug through Larry’s system and he shot across the field over bumpy terrain into the woods. Darkness invaded, and the branches blocked the last remaining light. He lowered his night goggles and perused the expanse.
The rusty trailer and goats were set off to the right. The goats kicked up their hooves and butted each other with their horns.
“They’re active for this time of day,” Jackson said, catching up to him when Larry slowed. “They high?”
“Looks it. They’ve been known to nibble on plants in the past.” Larry hopped over a dip in the terrain and advancing toward a field bordered with trees. He had two choices: either to stay undercover amongst the trees and take twice as long to reach Charlene and Celine, or sprint across the field and get to them before trouble worsened.
“Found their crop,” Paul said into their earpiece. “Going in.”
“Wait for backup.” Jake’s voice was much stronger and he panted.
“The man is on the move,” Jackson chuckled. “Glad you’re amongst the living.”
“Thanks.” Gun fire blasted over Jake’s words.
“Fuck!” Jake yelled. “He didn’t wait.”
No need for Jake to say who he was. The shots came from the direction Paul landed the helicopter.
Sirens sounded in the distance.
“Locals are here,” Jackson said and went for the tree line.
“This way,” Larry said and proceeded. At the top, he and Jackson dropped to the ground.
A stream divided them and what looked like a makeshift camp. To the left, there was an old two story building. The bottom floor opened on one side. Off to the right, a bonfire and a strange looking contraption behind it.
“Damn. That’s a crop.” Paul whistled in the earpiece.
“Another perky voice,” Quigley said. “Take any hits?”
“That’s a negative,” Paul said. “Rendezvous at the shed. Coming in on foot.”
“Roger that,” Larry said, focusing back on the camp. A burly man with a gun crossed between his arms walked in front of the structure and paused. Larry’s heartbeat thundered in his throat. “The girls are in that structure.”
The sound of a motor approaching had them pressing their bodies to the ground. Out of a gap in the woods, a four-wheeler advanced toward the camp. Two riders, one unknown gang member and Smith, his hands tied behind his back.
Larry lowered the googles. Through them he could see the scowl on Monk’s face. “This isn’t looking good for Smith.”
“Nope.” Jackson pulled out a laser listening device and aimed it toward the camp. “You guys will hear everything they say.”
“Damn, you have some toys.” Jake dropped to the field beside them.
“He’s my hero,” Quigley said, peering through night goggles.
The four-wheeler stopped near the fire. Smith and the Impaler stepped off.
“That’s Ellis Goldberg, A.K.A. Roach. Done time for small stuff, nothing major,” Larry informed.
Jackson did something to the listening device. “Listen.”
“You dumb fuck!”
With the listening device, Monk yelling sounded like it was right beside them.
And through the night vision googles, his body language said pissed. “You led the agents here.”
Roach moved backwards toward the fire.
“I didn’t lead them here,” Smith’s voice rose. “You captured one of their women.”
“Aw, fuck!” Larry mumbled on a growl. The asswipe just put Charlene’s life in more danger.
Monk spit on the ground next to Smith’s boots. “You killed my brother.”
Smith’s eyes widened. Nervousness flowed off him in waves. “What? No,
man!”
“Incoming,” Quigley said.
Larry ignored the twitching in his eye. “What’s the count?”
“A scared tweet, two guard, two Scorpions, one purple-headed person, two sitting near the fire,” Jackson said, “Monk, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
“For those who can’t count, that’s nine,” Quigley said.
“Can anyone get a visual inside that structure?” Jake asked.
“Two men inside,” Paul said, “watching the packages.”
“Your location?” Bewilderment laced Jake’s voice.
“In the trees. The vines aren’t covering the top. I have clear shots,” Paul whispered.
“You think he can take them both before they fire?” Quigley asked.
“Yeah, I do,” Larry said. “Let’s roll. On three. One…”
“You thought you could make a deal with the Black Scorpions to take over my operation,” Monk fumed. “Instead, you set a trap and get my blood killed.”
“No, no, that’s not what I did,” Smith went from nervous to withering. “I just wanted my wife back.”
“Two…” Larry said, his adrenaline kicking in full gear, making it unbearable to wait.
Monk scuffed. “I want my brother back. He’s paid the ultimate price for your actions. Now, your dear wife will pay for what you have done.”
Larry’s heart clenched. The pain seeped through every inch of his body. He bolted upright, raced through the tall grass toward the camp.
“Damn it!” Jake shouted in his ear.
Larry ignored his friend, but knew the men would have his back.
A barrage of activity happened at once.
Two shots discharged. “Go…go…go,” Paul commanded in the earpiece.
Monk pressed his gun against Smith’s head and pulled the trigger. Smith’s lifeless body collapsed to the ground.
Larry felt Charlene and Henry’s loss like a serrated knife to his gut and tore after Monk heading toward the vine structure.
Screams sounded.
Larry lifted his gun, aimed at Monk’s head, and…
Monk crumpled to the ground.
“You’re welcome,” Quigley said in the earpiece.
Larry groaned. He appreciated Quigley acting fast, but he wanted to take the guy out for threatening Charlene.
