HWY 550 (Rock Point Book 3)

by Freya Barker

  Garbage in the trash, please, I tell him when he threatens to dart from the vehicle, leaving his crumpled wrapper sitting in the cup holder. I swear he rolls his eyes when he snatches it up and tosses it basketball style in the trash can at the edge of the parking lot. I bite my cheek, holding back a smile. I’ll take his eye rolls and deep sighs any day, as long as he engages.

  It’s a vast improvement on the withdrawn, almost skittish kid at the beginning of the week. As soon as Ouray’s mood lifted, Ahiga started coming out of his shell. I’m not sure of the kind of male role models he’s had in his life, but I venture to bet they weren’t good ones.

  See you in a bit, I’ll be here.

  The moment he disappears into his therapist’s office, I turn and go down the flight of stairs to Gary’s office.

  “I think I’m in love,” I announce the moment I sit down, figuring it’s better to rip the bandage off.

  Gary gives me an easy once over before he teases. “Thought I noticed something different. It looks good on you.”

  “Is that all you have to say? Aren’t you surprised?” I’m actually a little peeved my news isn’t received with a bit more fanfare.

  He sits forward, elbows on his knees, and his joined hands dangling between. “Luna, this may come as news to you, but the only one convinced love would never be in the books for you...was you. You spent a long time hiding behind your view of the world, avoiding all emotion. I knew it was inevitable, at some point, someone would break through that barrier. Just as I knew once that first brick came down, and you got a glimpse at all that was on offer, that wall wouldn’t be standing long. So in short, no—I’m not surprised in the least. I am, however, very happy for you.”

  By design, my appointment ends ten minutes before Ahiga will be done, and I’m about to head back upstairs to the waiting room when my phone rings. There’s a strict no cell phone policy in the clinic and when I glance over to the receptionist catch her glaring already. With an apologetic wave I duck out the door instead, answering the call as I walk over to the Traverse.

  “Hello?”

  At first I just hear some rustling but then I hear faintly. “...Please...help me...hurt...”

  “Hello? Who is this?” I’m trying to place the difficult to hear woman’s voice. I pull out my keys, unlock the doors, and try to squeeze my way between the idiot who parked his van barely a foot from my driver’s side.

  I’m so focused on the disembodied voice on the phone, I’m too late recognizing the danger.

  Even as the sliding door behind me opens and I’m hauled back—dropping my phone in the process—my mind goes straight to Ahiga. My eyes fly up to the first floor window, where I can just see his face and hands pressed up against the window.

  I must’ve made a sound, because the next thing I know the door slams shut in front of me, and I hear a woman’s voice.

  “Fuck, it’s the kid. Go grab him.”

  CHAPTER 27

  OURAY

  “That mutt’s what you got the boy?”

  I jab an elbow in Dylan’s ribs. He volunteered to drive me this morning. Kaga dropped off the dog’s stuff earlier, but is spending the weekend with his family.

  “Fuck off.”

  “Excuse me?” The same volunteer who was here yesterday stops right inside the doorway, her mouth dropping open.

  “Sorry,” I mumble. “That wasn’t meant for you.” Dylan laughs heartily behind me—the asshole—I try to ignore him. “I’m here to pick him up.” I indicate the dog.

  “Right—Mr. Strongbow—I remember. Did you bring a collar and leash?” I hold them up and she takes them from me, opens the gate to the kennel, and puts them on the dog. “I need one more signature from you and you’re all done.” The phone in my pocket buzzes with a text just as she hands me the leash. “Just follow me.”

  A signature, a lengthy lesson in dog care, a stack of flyers with instructions, and almost twenty minutes later, we finally walk out of the shelter. The moment Dylan opens the door of his truck, the dog jumps in, taking a seat facing out the front window.

  “Looks like the pooch has done this before,” Dylan comments as he climbs behind the wheel. “Where to? Clubhouse or your place?”

  “My place. They should be on their way back soon and will probably stop there first.”

  I let the dog off the leash when we get inside, and he starts sniffing around immediately. Doesn’t take him long to locate the bowls of water and kibble I left by the back door.

  “Beer?” I ask, tossing my keys on the counter and fishing my phone from my pocket. I check the screen as I walk to the fridge, Dylan following me into the kitchen.

  “Sure.”

  “Damn kid sent me another message. At this rate we’ll have to upgrade his damn plan. I think he’s almost at his allotted texts for the month already.” I swipe my thumb on the screen and it opens up to a picture. It takes me a second to register what I’m looking at. “What the actual fuck?”

  “What is it?” he asks, looking over my shoulder at an image of my vehicle in a parking lot. It’s blurry, but I can still recognize Luna’s blonde curls as someone looks to be forcing her into the dark van parked beside right beside it. “Do you know where that is?”

  “It’s a clinic in Aztec. The boy’s therapist.” I manage as cold fear crawls up my spine.

  “Have an address?”

  “I ...no. Luna, she’s taken him.”

  Dylan pulls his own phone out of his pocket. “Jas? It’s Luna, she’s been...”

  It’s all I register him saying before all I hear is the blood rushing to my head. I drop the phone on the counter and have to brace myself with my hands on the edge. All I see when I close my eyes are hers, wide open, over a dark hand covering half her face.

  Aztec. I have to get to Aztec.

  Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m already pulling open the front door, Dylan calling my name behind me.

  “Hold up, where the fuck do you think you’re going?” A strong arm swings me around. “Running off half-cocked is not gonna do Luna any good. You should be trying to call the kid back, not running off blindly.”

  Jesus, Ahiga.

  Shaking off his hold, I stalk back into the kitchen, snatch my phone off the counter, and hit the speed dial for the boy. Five rings, and then the mechanical voicemail message comes on. I hit end and try again—same result.

  “Nothing?” I shake my head at Dylan. “Okay, you hang tight here, Jasper is contacting local law enforcement and I’m heading out there. I’ll keep you updated.” He starts walking out the door and I snatch up my keys and follow him outside.

  He’s already getting behind the wheel of his truck when I pull the passenger side door open. “Like fuck you are. I’m coming with.”

  He doesn’t argue and tears out of my driveway.

  “Jas, you still there? We’re on the road.”

  “Yup. Got the address for the clinic and a ping on both the boy’s and Luna’s phones for the same location. Sending it to you now.” I can hear the ping even as Jasper’s voice continues to flood in through the speakers. “Law enforcement is en route and Damian is too, but he’s coming from home so you’ll probably beat him there.”

  “Does that mean they’re still there? Luna and Ahiga?” I ask, unable to keep the small spark of hope from my voice.

  “Well, their phones are, I don’t know about them.” Jasper is the one who answers. “Ouray, can you shoot over that picture? I’m gonna see if I can get anything on that van.”

  I do as he asks, and with my phone still in my hand, I dial Kaga’s number. He answers right away.

  “Chief?”

  I quickly explain the situation and tell him to head over to the clubhouse. Until we can figure out what the hell is going on, I need someone I can trust to keep an eye out, but I’d also like to know who the hell is missing. The moment Kaga says, “I’m on it,” a little of the weight bearing on my shoulders lifts.

  “Good call,” Dylan says when I
hang up.

  I blindly stare out the window as he maneuvers his truck through Durango Saturday traffic. Faster than I thought possible, we leave the town behind us as we race down Highway 550.

  Not ten miles south of town, my phone buzzes announcing a message. I look down and notice a number I don’t recognize.

  “What is it?” Dylan asks, noticing my hesitation.

  “A text. Don’t know the number.”

  “Open it.” I startle at Jasper’s disembodied voice, I’d almost forgotten he was there. “And forward it to me.”

  Unknown: 36.796567 - 107.990820

  Alone

  “It’s a bunch of fucking numbers.” Even as I’m saying it, a photo pops up on my screen. “Jesus...”

  “Talk to me,” Jasper barks.

  I struggle to get air in my lungs. “Both, they...they have them both.”

  “Shore it up, brother. This no fucking time to lose your shit. Now send those to me.”

  My hands shake trying to forward the information, while my mind spins out of control. The image of Luna duct-taped to a chair, her head hanging forward, and what’s visible of her face and the front of her shirt covered in blood—and the boy sitting wide-eyed beside her on the floor with the barrel of a gun pressed to the back of his head—is indelibly burned into my brain.

  A sharp hiss sounds over the hands-free. “Christ.” I’m sure Jasper just got a glimpse. “She wouldn’t have gone down without a fight.” There’s a soft sound of fingers on a keyboard, before his voice comes back. “The numbers are coordinates. Pulling it up on satellite now. Looks like some kind of container storage along the 550, just south of Aztec. I see about thirty or so containers in a yard east of the highway.”

  “Salinas,” I blurt out, recognizing the description. “It’s a container yard almost directly opposite the highway from the Amontinados’ compound. It’s fuckin’ Salinas.”

  “Any back roads in?” Dylan asks.

  “Yup. Take Legion Road east. It should have signs for the Aztec Speedway. Keep following for point nine miles until you hit an unmarked road, turn right—then at point three miles there’s a dirt road on the south side leading into the yard. You’ll pass a couple of buildings on your left that may provide some cover. The vegetation is not very thick. I’ll shoot over images.”

  “Ouray,” Dylan draws my attention away from my phone screen. “Reach behind your seat for a bag. My laptop’s in there, I need you to pull up those images for me.”

  “And just so you know,” Jasper brings up, “Damian is about seven minutes behind you. He’s got Blackfoot in the car.”

  “A little out of his jurisdiction, no?”

  “Like he cares—you know how he feels about Luna. Damian picked him up.”

  In the meantime, I’ve got Dylan’s laptop open on my knees. With my limited computer skills and two-fingered stabs at the keyboard, it takes all of my focus to follow Dylan’s instructions. Still, it’s a welcome distraction.

  It feels better to be doing something.

  LUNA

  Fuck, that hurts.

  I’m keeping my eyes closed and head down, continuing to let them think I’m out of commission.

  Oh, I fought the moment I realized what was happening, but a well-aimed fist to my face knocked me out. Pretty sure they broke my fucking nose.

  I could feel the van moving when I came to and heard a soft whimpering. Cracking a careful eyelid, I saw Ahiga’s huddled shape just a few feet from me. His hands chained to a ring bolted in the floor of the van. I couldn’t move. They’d duct-taped my hands behind my back, and my legs were wrapped tight from my ankles to my knees.

  There’d been three of them. One in the back of the van with us, I could just see his boots from my peripheral vision. Biker boots. The other two I could hear occasionally talking in the front. I recognized the woman immediately.

  Fucking Britney.

  The man’s voice I couldn’t place—he spoke with a heavy Latin accent. The owner of the scuffed black boots stayed silent the short and uncomfortably bumpy ride.

  I didn’t want to risk letting on that I was awake, even as I was dragged out of the van and into what appears to be a metal container, the sounds bouncing in the confined space. I purposely kept my body limp as they trussed me up like a goddamn Christmas turkey to a straight-backed chair.

  The moment I heard footsteps leave and the screech of a metal bar sliding in place, I opened my eyes. Pitch-fucking-dark. Just a tiny slit of light coming from the bottom of the doors. I blinked my eyes a few times, trying to adjust to the dark.

  I didn’t even realize Ahiga was in there with me until I heard a whimper right after the loud boom of a gunshot reverberated through the metal container. It came from the back of the container, directly behind me, and I tried to form the universal okay sign with my hands tied to the backrest of the chair, hoping he could see. I didn’t want to risk making any sound, and he wouldn’t have been able to hear me anyway.

  It felt like hours, but has probably only been minutes before I hear the metal bar sliding back.

  “The boy too.”

  Britney. I almost growl out loud at the sound of her voice. I’ve been trying to wrap my head around how she could be involved. I know she conned Paco into lending his truck, so she must’ve been aware of the robberies, but I didn’t think of her as more of a pawn. A jealous bitch, presented with an opportunity to get her pound of flesh. But now I’m not so sure. She appears to have more clout than I would’ve given her credit for.

  There’s a sound of something sliding along the floor and a rustle of clothes, when I hear Ahiga whimper closer by.

  “Put the gun to his head.”

  “Better not put me in the fucking picture, you dumb puta.”

  “Call me that again and Daddy will hear. That’s not gonna end well for you, Dario. Remember who’s in charge here.”

  Daddy?

  I’ve heard some of the women refer to their men as daddy, it’s supposed to be a term of endearment, but it just gives me the creeps.

  She calls the guy Dario.

  The only time I’ve heard that name in the past month was from Manny Salinas’ mouth when he greeted a bunch of his men in the beer tent at the rally in Durango.

  Salinas. It makes sense, with the Amontinados based in Aztec, but it all seems a little too convenient. Too obvious. Although I can see bitch Britney hooking up with the slime-bucket and calling him fucking daddy. And the guy has an ego the size of a small planet, so he could just be arrogant enough to think he could pull this off.

  A bright flash goes off and I try not to flinch.

  I may not know why, but I know what they’re doing. I’d bet anything that picture is being sent to Ouray right this minute. Jesus. He’ll be out of his mind, and I’m afraid he’ll do whatever it is they ask of him. Including sacrificing himself.

  My only hope is to leave my head down, lull them into believing I’m not a threat, and keep my wits about me.

  I have to bide my time: I may only have one chance to get us all out of this.

  CHAPTER 28

  OURAY

  “Stay down.”

  I duck back behind the tree at Dylan’s whispered order and crouch down. He’s up ahead, hiding behind a large boulder. The terrain doesn’t provide much cover, just the occasional ridge or large rock, and some trees that are set a fair bit apart. It doesn’t help that the midafternoon sun is beating down on us.

  If Dylan hadn’t held me back, I would’ve taken off on a dead run to the grouping of shipping containers I could see at a distance, through the sparse vegetation. As it is, we’ve been torturously slow in making our way toward them.

  We left the truck on the other side of the ridge we just crossed. It was obvious, from the satellite images Jasper sent, we wouldn’t be able to just drive up. It’s all too fucking exposed.

  On the plus side, we can easily keep track of any comings and goings in the container yard. I can see a couple of bikes and the same dark-col
ored van from the picture Ahiga sent, parked outside a small building on the far side of the yard. Earlier we saw a couple of men go in, but we were too far for me to recognize them, and there hasn’t been movement since.

  I thought I was in pretty decent condition, but running crouched from cover to cover, or belly-crawling across sections with no cover at all, is taking its toll. Dylan doesn’t even appear to be winded.

  He turns to face me, his back against the rock and waves me over. Give or take twenty yards and little to cover my ass. Great.

  My chest is burning when I slide my ass down beside him. I really should quit smoking.

  “Damian and Blackfoot are right behind us. We’re gonna wait for them to catch up. Anything happens, we’re close enough to act.”

  It’s true, from here we’re less than the length of a football field from the closest container. Unfortunately, I’m not a fucking receiver and there’s zero cover.

  “They’ll get suspicious if I keep them waiting too long,” I point out.

  “You forget we were already on our way when you got the text. They won’t be expecting you just yet and we can use that to our advantage, but it’s a small window so let’s be smart about it.”

  I’m surprised when maybe two minutes later, Keith Blackfoot comes darting from the same tree I was crouched behind. Damian is not far behind.

  There’s barely room for all four of us behind the damn rock, and I’m getting impatient while they’re discussing strategy.

  “You guys take any fucking longer, and I’m heading in on my own. My goddamn future is in one of those containers, and you’re sitting here calmly discussing risk factors and variables. Can we get a fucking move on?”

  “I assume you’re armed?” Damian asks, ignoring my outburst.

  “Yeah. Ankle holster.”

  “I assume you can shoot it?” I give him a dirty look. “Good, from here on in that gun is in your hand.” I unholster the Glock and get a nod of approval from Damian. “Dylan has an earbud so he leads, you’re right behind him. We’ll cover you from here. Hoof it to the closest container. You stay right there, Dylan’s going to try and get on top for a better vantage point.” I look over at the yard where some containers are stacked two high. “Once he’s in position, you two cover us. You stay put until Blackfoot and I take up position to cover the yard, and you both get Luna and the boy out.”