The Darwin Protocol: A Thriller (The Last Peak Book 1)

by William Oday

  She doubted they could see much through the dark tinted windows.

  The music in their car dropped to silence.

  Would they hear if she yelled?

  The urge to throw the door open and scream her head off contracted her muscles. Then something cold and hard touched her arm. She looked down.

  Cesar’s chromed pistol touched her arm.

  “Want to live?”

  She nodded, her eyes glued to the light reflecting off the side of the gun.

  The street light turned green and the police car pulled off.

  Her stomach rolled over and died.

  That might have been their last chance. And she was too scared to take it.

  The music kicked back up and they continued east, following the blue car east. The night was lit by a blur of neon business signs. Between buildings, the towering, illuminated skyscrapers of downtown Los Angeles slipped into view.

  An old Bronco approached in the opposite lane. The silhouette exactly like her dad’s. Maybe he’d followed them. Maybe he was just waiting for the right moment.

  It drew closer and the white paint and the stranger at the wheel shattered the dream. How could it’ve been him? He had no idea where she was. She had to change that.

  But how?

  An idea popped into her head. Stupid, but she didn’t have any better ones trying to cut in line.

  She leaned forward and spoke across Holly’s immobile body. “Can I give Elio a lucky kiss? You know, put a little lead in his pistol?”

  She bit her lip and tried to look sexy. It wasn’t something she practiced so she had no idea how it came off. Probably ridiculous.

  “Pop his cherry, blanca. He’s gonna be a big boy tonight.”

  Theresa leaned over the front seat. She held his head forward and bit his jaw. He tasted salty and kind of good.

  She bit his earlobe and licked the curve of his ear. She whispered, “Tracker 911 on my phone. Open it.” She turned his head back toward hers and brought her lips to his. Her tongue slipped into his mouth. His teeth parted and she probed deeper.

  Her heart raced and her stomach clenched. From fear or desire, she wasn’t sure. She pulled back, praying the ruse worked. She fell back into the seat, licking his salt from her lips.

  Did he hear her?

  The music certainly covered her message. But did it drown it?

  Elio glanced back at her. His eyes wide with wonder.

  Cesar slapped his face forward. “Do it right tonight and maybe I’ll share a piece of her.”

  Elio’s back stiffened and his jaw twitched.

  “I’ll do what has to be done.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-THREE

  Elio looked back at Cesar. “How about a little more of that? I need to get my blood up, you know?”

  Cesar grinned like a hyena. “Nothing like panocha to get you up for capping pendejos.” He turned to Theresa. “Hop up there and give the kid a taste.”

  Theresa couldn’t believe Elio would force her into this. She did it as a diversion. She didn’t not like it, but she definitely didn’t like being ordered around by this thug.

  She must not have moved fast enough because Cesar grabbed her arm and yanked her forward. She pitched over the seat and got a slap on the butt as she went.

  Her face landed in Elio’s lap. She looked up and Elio’s brown eyes were wide and white. She scrambled up and sat between him and the driver.

  In the back seat, Cesar roared. “Blanca can’t wait to get some!”

  “Asshole,” she muttered, only half-hoping the music muffled the comment.

  Something jabbed in her hip and she was about to look down when Elio encircled her neck and pulled her forward. His kissed her ear.

  “It’s fingerprint protected.”

  Crap!

  She’d totally spaced the fact that her phone only opened to her thumb print, or the four digit code that she’d never shared with anyone but Holly and her parents. And her parents only because she had to.

  Elio wasn’t forcing himself on her. He was helping her pull off her plan!

  He turned her to face him and his lips crushed into hers. Was it an act? His passion didn’t feel fake. His other hand found hers. The smooth surface of her phone landed in her fingers. His tongue slipped into her mouth. He was full of surprises. She held it down at her side, sandwiched between their bodies.

  “Get some, vato” Cesar shouted.

  Electric tingles shot to her toes. The current made it hard to think. Harder than it already was. Her heart beat wild and fast. An intoxicating brew of fear and longing.

  Still locking lips, she thumbed the phone on and the roof above her head caught the dim illumination. She tapped the tracker app. At least she hoped she did. She wasn’t about to blow it by staring directly down at the phone.

  Shit.

  She had to turn it off. They’d notice any second.

  Elio twisted her head to the side and bit her neck. Chills swept down her spine and prickled the hairs on her arms. A warmth in her belly spread lower. Her breath came in ragged pants.

  She somehow remembered the plan and peeked down to see that she’d launched YouTube instead. Taylor Swift was about to get her busted. A few swipes later and she activated Tracker 911.

  The car swept through a section of West Los Angeles where the businesses were more spread out. The passing lights outside went dim and the illumination on the ceiling had to be obvious. She watched as the tracker map came up, pinpointing her position.

  Please Dad. Please have your phone on.

  She clicked the display off, knowing the app would continue broadcasting her position to the synced app on her dad’s phone.

  If he had it on. If he was checking it.

  Elio pulled away and stared into her eyes. She nodded just enough to let him know she did it.

  And then she realized something totally insane.

  Despite the clear danger of the situation. Despite the likelihood that any number of terrible things were about to happen. Despite everything.

  She wanted to kiss Elio again.

  Maybe it was the fuzziness that made her brain feel like sun-soaked cotton. Maybe it was that she’d never been more certain about anything.

  Whatever it was, she went with it.

  She leaned forward into Elio’s embrace and their lips pressed hard together.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR

  Mason waited at a red light at Pico and Western. There had been no sign of police pursuit. Maybe he was wrong and they were going after someone else. There hadn’t been an update since the original report. It was possible they’d shuffled over to a private channel.

  He looked in the rear view mirror and up and down Western. No flashing lights.

  A few more miles and they’d be at the Santa Monica airport. He could drop off Iridia to whatever fate would decide for her. Get back home to check on the girls and Max. He needed to call Beth. Something big was going down and he didn’t like her being all the way over on the east side of the city. That was too much humanity between them.

  If what the news showed was true, it was too many possible points of infection. Too many possible points of trouble.

  He touched his phone to check in and started as it chirped at him. Not the ring of a call, but the chirp of an app notification. He pulled it from the change holder below the radio and flinched when he saw the illuminated screen.

  Tracker 911 had an urgent message. He thumbed it on and the app showed an emergency alert from his daughter’s phone. A map showed it heading east on Pico. Less than a mile west of his position.

  Why was her phone not at home, where she should be? Was it stolen? Was it a glitch? He pulled up favorites. Only two slots were taken. His wife and his daughter. His mother needled him about that constantly.

  He tapped his daughter’s name and it went through to voicemail after the first ring, like she’d clicked it off. He left a quick message and then called again. Straight to voicemail.

  Theresa kn
ew not to play around with that app. He had stressed the importance of using it only in an emergency.

  He had no idea why, but this was an emergency.

  Maybe that was the definition of one. If it made sense, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.

  Mason prayed it had nothing to do with the madness he’d seen on TV. Why would it? His chest ached. His fingers tingled numb. What was she doing?

  If she was safe, he’d kill her. If she wasn’t safe, he’d kill anyone that harmed her.

  “What’s going on?” Iridia asked.

  The supermodel was still with him. He’d forgotten her completely. She could forget about getting to the airport. Professional responsibility fell a far cry short of parental responsibility. He had one mission now.

  Get his daughter.

  “My daughter. It’s an emergency of some kind. I don’t know, but it’s serious.”

  He tapped on the brake and focused all of his mental power on changing the red light to green. It stayed red. The stubborn shit.

  “Whatever,” Mason said as he checked both ways and then floored it through the intersection, narrowly avoiding taking off the rear fender of a legally crossing car.

  Red and blue lights flashed through the windshield as a black and white he hadn’t seen coming north on Western flipped a left and blasted the siren. The cruiser pulled up on his bumper.

  “Pull over,” a loud speaker shouted.

  Dammit! He didn’t have time for a stupid ticket. Or worse. What if they were looking for him?

  Who knew what was going on with Theresa. Every fiber in his body wanted to floor it. The dispatcher didn’t mention his name or license plate number. Mason knew they would have if they’d had it.

  He had two choices. Pull over and hopefully get a quick ticket and continue on. Or two, initiate an OJ-style police chase. If he wasn’t identified yet, that would blow it in no time.

  He nearly punched a dent into the steering wheel as he turned on the blinker and pulled to the side of the road.

  “What are you worried about?” Iridia said.

  Mason snarled a response and didn’t elaborate. He didn’t have the time or inclination to fill in Ms. AllMeAlltheTime.

  “Let me handle it,” she said.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

  He shifted into Park but didn’t turn off the Bronco. If they got wind he was wanted, he wasn’t going to go quietly. He had no desire to break the law, but he didn’t have a choice. Theresa was in danger. He had to get to her. Everything else was secondary.

  He glanced at his phone. Her phone was heading in his direction, now just four blocks away. He looked down the street and didn’t see anything obvious in the stream of traffic forcing their way through the congested lanes.

  Tapping on the side window got his attention.

  “Please roll down your window, sir.”

  An LAPD officer with a Maglite as big as a baton stood by the window. He looked young, barely out of the academy young. His head was level with the window, which made him on the tall side. At least six feet. He tapped the hard metal casing to the glass again.

  “Down.”

  “Sure,” Mason said and he complied.

  “License and registration.”

  Mason leaned over to grab it from the glovebox.

  Iridia stopped him.

  She was weeping. Her face a puffy mess of tears and anguish.

  Where did that come from?

  “I’ll get it, Uncle Mason,” she said. She got his wallet and the registration paper and handed it over. The paper fluttered in her trembling hand. She collapsed forward, sobbing into her knees.

  Uncle Mason? Did he have to be the old uncle?

  The officer shined his light into the car, illuminating her face.

  “Are you okay, ma’am?”

  Iridia turned and wiped away the moisture on her cheeks. Mason would’ve sworn her favorite pet fish had died or something.

  “Hey, are you that Sports Illustrated girl?”

  Iridia nodded with a sad smile.

  “Wow. The guys are never gonna believe this.”

  He coughed, as if remembering his position as enforcer of the law and not as lusty teenage stalker.

  “Sir, are you aware you just ran through a red light?”

  Mason was about to answer when Iridia let loose with another howl of anguish.

  “Ma’am—“

  She sniffed and turned to him. “Iridia. Call me Iridia.”

  His eyes widened like he couldn’t believe it.

  “Iridia, are you okay?”

  Iridia shook her head and buried her face in her hands.

  Mason decided to play along. He didn’t know what else to do. He patted her back.

  “There there, honey.”

  Iridia faced the officer again. She really was convincing.

  “It’s my mother. She’s been in a bad accident. Uncle Mason was taking me to the hospital. If she dies…”

  She let loose with another pained howl.

  Mason almost forgot it was nonsense. He wondered what happened to her mother. That director made a huge mistake. She was good.

  “I’m so sorry to hear that, Ma’… Iridia.”

  He handed the papers back to Mason.

  “Listen, I understand wanting to get to her, but just slow it down. Getting into an accident yourself isn’t going to make things better.”

  “Thank you so much, officer,” Iridia said. “You’re my hero today.”

  His face turned pink and he looked down. He patted the window sill. “Well, I’ll let you off on this one. Just obey the traffic laws and we’ll all get where we’re going in one piece.”

  “Thank you, sir,” Mason said. He tapped the brake, hardly able to keep his hand from the shifter. They needed to go.

  Now.

  The officer looked at Iridia again.

  “I hope she’s fine.”

  Iridia pursed her lips and nodded at him, doing her best not to break down again.

  The officer walked back to his cruiser and shut off the lights.

  Thank God.

  Mason shifted into Drive and did his best not to squeal the tires as he pulled back into the lane.

  “You’re welcome.”

  Mason turned to Iridia wiping away the last bits of moisture from her cheeks. She was already normal again. Which meant irritating. But she did save him there.

  “Thank you. And if I were a director, I’d hire you.”

  She grinned.

  “You’d be an idiot not to!”

  Mason checked the map on his phone. Theresa’s tracker icon was right in front of his. Practically on on top of each other. He scanned through the windshield.

  And then he saw it.

  The metallic red lowrider he’d seen cruising down his street earlier that day.

  Shit. He should’ve trusted his instincts. Now Theresa was in trouble. And it was his fault. From start to finish.

  The lowrider cruised passed.

  He stared at it but couldn’t see anything through the dark tinted windows. He checked his phone again. Her icon passed his and headed away behind him.

  He whipped a U-turn as soon as a car length opened up in the opposing direction.

  The interior of the Bronco washed out white as a blinding light hit the truck. Mason slammed on the brakes.

  “Stop and exit the vehicle!” a loud speaker roared.

  The light wavered away an instant.

  A black LAPD Huey hovered above the next intersection, not fifty feet off the ground.

  The red lowrider passed under the chopper and continued heading toward downtown.

  “Stop and exit the vehicle!” the loud speaker thundered.

  Black-clad SWAT guys fast-roped to the ground. The six man team spread out across the road, each taking cover behind a nearby vehicle. Their rifles all aimed at the Bronco.

  Mason checked the rear view. Red and blue lights flashed from behind as two cruisers screeched sideways, blo
cking off both lanes. While looking in the mirror, he noticed a cloud of illuminated red dots swarming on his chest and face.

  If he had any options, he couldn’t think what they might be.

  CHAPTER SEVENTY-SIX

  “Exit the vehicle and get on the ground! You have ten seconds to comply.”

  Mason remembered the police scanner. He turned it up.

  All teams, this will be a sniper initiated assault.

  Team two, ready for go.

  Team five, ready for go.

  Team four, ready for go.

  All teams, on my count. Wait for my count.

  Mason shifted into Park. Was this really happening? He just wanted to get to his daughter. That was all. If they took him in handcuffs, he’d never get to her in time.

  “This is your final warning. Exit the vehicle now!”

  Iridia grabbed his arm.

  “What do we do? I don’t want to die! I don’t want to die!”

  Would they open fire? Surely it was a bluff. Where was due process? The right to life and liberty? But they thought he’d killed one of their own. They thought he was a murderer.

  All teams, on my count. Three, two,—

  Mason opened the door.

  Hold fire!

  Being hauled away in a body bag wasn’t going to save Theresa.

  He stepped out with his hands up and squinted hard when the blinding spotlight jabbed his eyes. He turned back and held a hand out for Iridia to join him.

  “Come on. Move slow and keep your hands visible.”

  She climbed across the seat and down out of the open door.

  The loud speaker barked again.

  “Both of you! Face down on the ground with your hands behind your head! Now!”

  Mason lowered to his knees and helped Iridia do the same. This wasn’t how he saw this job going. Putting a client in the middle of a SWAT takedown wasn’t in the playbook. Or maybe it was, under the examples of the absolute worst things to do. This op had been a wreck from the start. That’s what you got with no planning and a world famous client.

  The Huey spun up and lifted higher into the air. Buffeting wind nearly pushed him over backward. He kept his hands up, not wanting to give anyone the slightest reason to pull a trigger.