by Zoe Dawson
With Emma behind him, they started through the trees. After going a few steps, Derrick spied a man taking a leak near one of the trees. He signaled Emma to stop and Derrick melted into the shadows, his steps so quiet it was as if he’d transformed into a ghost.
He came up behind the man, and he died without a sound.
He motioned Emma forward. They walked the rest of the way to the kitchen door without incident, avoiding two patrols. “Keep watch,” he whispered as Emma turned her back to his and he picked the lock.
He opened the door and stepped inside. Emma went directly to the fridge, opened the door wide enough to grab Matty’s medicine. She tucked it into her jeans pocket. Then in the dim light, Derrick, using the memorized map in his head, found the stairs.
Taking it slow, they climbed to the top. Derrick could hear light snoring coming from the room across from what Gabriela had marked as the nursery. On quiet feet they eased the baby’s door open and quickly ducked inside. Trembling, Emma went directly over to the crib, and she clutched the bars, her face alight with joy, and Derrick held back his own fierce triumph. They weren’t out of the woods yet.
“Matty, oh my little love.” She reached down and came up with a bundle of blankets and sleepy infant. He looked up at her, his eyes blinking owlishly in the dim light, then he smiled softly and drifted off to sleep.
“Get the bag in the closet while I get him strapped into this Snugli,” she whispered low and urgently. As she navigated the confusion of the carrier, snuggling Matty up close to her chest, he didn’t stir. Derrick pulled open the closet door and grabbed the fully stocked bag inside, slinging it over his shoulder.
At the door, he listened intently, then opened it a crack. Nothing moved; the snoring was still buzzing in the quiet of the house. They slipped out, closing the door behind them, then made their way down the stairs.
They crept silently across the kitchen and out the door, crouching until Derrick was certain the area was clear.
“Move and don’t stop for anything,” he said in a gruff whisper. “If I’m not there in five minutes, head to the airfield.”
“Derrick—”
“Don’t argue with me, Emma.”
She ran her hand over Matty’s head, then she leaned over and kissed Derrick, her mouth soft and warm. He closed his eyes, absorbing the aching press of her lips. “Thank you,” she whispered fiercely.
He cupped her face for a moment, then his hand dropped to her upper back. He gave her a little nudge. “Go.” Her gaze lingered on his for a few more seconds, telling him how much he meant to her in that short moment. His throat got tight.
She rose and cautiously covered the open ground. He watched her disappear into the trees and he straightened, pulling out the knife. He started to follow, covering her back. There was no way he was going to let her down now. No matter the cost.
Chapter Fourteen
Emma clutched Matty as she ran. He opened his eyes a couple of times, but the rocking of her body seemed to soothe him. She looked over her shoulder several times but couldn’t see Derrick.
Her emotions were running wild at this point. She was elated to have her nephew back, but terrified about getting them all safely out of Mexico. When she reached the car, she pulled out the keys and stood there, searching the trees for Derrick. She was praying with all her might that he would show up and they could go to the airfield together, her insides twisting with fear. There wasn’t a moment to spare, and anything could go wrong.
A few minutes passed and sweat trickled down her temple, her muscles held in such tense awareness, her body starting to tremble. It was in such contrast to the sweet-cheeked, peacefully sleeping baby in her arms. She held on to the belief that Derrick would show up any minute. How could she leave him behind?
Her breathing harsh, she paced back and forth, looking down at her nephew. Looking at her watch, a sob caught in her throat.
It had been six minutes. She couldn’t wait. Torn in two, her heart feeling like it was being ripped from her chest, she started to unstrap the carrier, fear and dread coursing through her.
“Emma,” Derrick whispered as he broke from the trees, “get in the car.”
Almost collapsing from the relief, she threw him the keys, which he caught on the run. Jumping inside, she strapped both her and the baby in. Drenched in sweat, Derrick started the car and was soon going back the way they had come.
They flew over the road and turned down a dirt track to the hidden airstrip. Derrick’s contacts and network had revealed this remote runway was often used by drug runners. It was out of the way, but close enough to Caliche to make it the prime spot for them to catch the Blackhawk.
When they drove up, Emma was overjoyed to see that the chopper was already on the ground. Without waiting, she threw her door open and started to run for the vehicle.
A car engine rumbled behind them. She whirled and took cover behind the hood of their car. Derrick was already out and pulling his weapon. He trained his gun on the driver as he stepped out.
“Hey, what is going on with you two?” Velasco said, his voice confused.
He stepped forward, but stopped dead when Derrick pointed his gun at him and said, “How did you find us?”
“We were notified by our government that you had secured the boy and were headed to this airstrip. Reyes called me. He came on ahead.” Velasco’s gaze went to a point behind them. “Hey, there he—”
A gunshot cracked across the forest, sending birds fluttering into the sky with frightened shrieks. The faint light of dawn was just brightening the horizon. Velasco clutched his chest, a shocked look on his face, betrayal in his eyes as he crumpled to the dirt and lay still.
They whirled and Emma’s heart climbed into her throat when Inspector Reyes, Arturo Ortega and another man stepped from the cover of the chopper. Arturo looked like the playboy he was, not someone who’d be involved in kidnapping, the ugly world of drug dealing or murder. On the other hand, the man with the coldest, deadest eyes she’d ever seen looked like he fit right in. Her attention shifted to the man who had betrayed them, his oath and his country. Reyes said, “You two are very resourceful. I knew that old woman would give everything up. I should have just taken you out when you were sleeping.”
“Why didn’t you?” Derrick said, his voice glacial.
Reyes shrugged and smiled as if they were having a pleasant conversation. “I have a reputation to uphold. I didn’t want you dead in my custody—so many messy explanations.” He chuckled and swept the gun toward Velasco’s prone body. “Now, I’ll just blame everything on Velasco. It’ll look like he was the traitor.”
“Why?” Emma said, desperate to save her nephew, but seeing no way around this cold, calculating man.
“Well, the money. Gilberto pays so damn well.” Arturo laughed, while the silent man’s eyes glittered. “I’ve been working for him for quite some time.” He shifted and focused on Derrick, his brow furrowing. “Remember I told you I’d gotten where I am by surviving. You’ve got to play the game. That’s how you continue to breathe.”
She could see both pilots slumped over in their seats. Emma started to back up, but before she could take another step, Reyes said, “Uh-uh, Emma. I’ll take your nephew. Hand him over to my colleague and your deaths will be quick and painless. The boy will not be harmed. If you don’t…” He shrugged again. “Well, a stray bullet might cut short the boy’s promising future.”
She squeezed her eyes briefly closed as the man approached her. His blank eyes meeting hers, he smiled and said, “Give me the boy.”
She looked at Derrick with an anguished expression. He sighed heavily and she could see he was calculating his odds. With a resigned but furious nod, he told Emma they had no choice.
Awash with a whole storm of emotion, she uttered a broken cry and convulsively tightened her hold on Matty. She trembled from head to toe, leaving her emotionally suspended. Oh, no. Oh, God, no. Something broke loose in her. The man grasped the baby, and it was
all Emma could do not to fight him. He ripped the boy out of the carrier and from her arms. Then the man shoved her back against the car. Her nephew woke up with a start. He took one look at the man’s face, burst into tears as he twisted his body and reached for her. Derrick caught her against him, watching the man with eyes that promised retribution. He laughed and walked around them, casually stepping over Velasco’s body. The sound of an engine broke the dawn’s stillness as a Lincoln pulled up and the man with the empty eyes set Matty into the backseat.
Arturo passed her and Derrick caught his arm. Arturo looked at him as if he wasn’t clean enough to touch his shirtsleeve. “Your father’s going to kill you, Arturo,” Derrick said. Reyes backhanded Derrick with the gun and he was knocked back into the car.
“That’s a lie,” Reyes said, giving Arturo a smile. “He’s just trying to manipulate you.”
Emma clutched at Derrick as he glared at Reyes. “No,” she said brokenly. Feeling as if she was trapped in a nightmare, Emma stared in horror at the back of the man who had Matty, whose wails were deep and urgent, tearing at her heart. Transfixed in shock, her numb reaction turning to a chilling sense of helplessness as she watched the empty-eyed man smile again, form his finger into a gun and point it at her. “Pow,” he said. His laughter cut off as he got into the backseat with Matty. Arturo, his expression haughty and smug, got into the front passenger seat.
“Now that wasn’t so hard, was it?” Reyes purred. Derrick punched him and he reeled backward. “I’ll give you that one,” Reyes said. Scowling, he wiped blood off the corner of his mouth, all humor gone from his face. “Hand over your weapons, two fingers only and let’s take a walk into the trees. I don’t have time to deal with dragging bodies into the woods.”
“I’m going to kill you with my bare hands,” Derrick said, the promise of mayhem in his eyes so potent, Emma shivered.
His scowl darkened, winging his brows low over his dark eyes. He extended his hand toward Emma. “Your weapon.”
Emma pulled out her gun and handed it to Reyes, who tossed it, and when Derrick followed suit, he repeated the action. Derrick put his arm around her waist and leaned in as if he was comforting her. “When I tell you to run, run,” he whispered in her ear.
She nodded imperceptibly.
Without comment, Derrick took her hand and did as they were told, the other one palming the knife. Emma understood.
As soon as they cleared the trees, Derrick stumbled and Reyes stepped forward to shove him hard, but instead, Derrick twisted and sunk the knife into Reyes’s shoulder, then punched him in the face. He stumbled away. “Run, Emma!”
He didn’t have to tell her twice. She bolted. Moving targets were difficult to hit, especially after the shooter had been stabbed and punched.
Several shots went off, but Emma kept her legs pumping. The sound of anger broke the silence a few moments later. “I’m coming for you!” the man shouted. “This time there won’t be any hope of a quick death.”
Neither of them slowed. They rushed through the underbrush, jumping over logs and muscling through bushes, heading deeper into the forest.
There were only two thoughts streaking through her head: kill him and go for Matty. But to do that, she had to stay alive.
Her lungs burned, the heat and humidity cutting into her strength as she slipped over more logs and down a ravine. They had to do a kind of careful jog to control their forward momentum down the steep incline. Trees towered above them. Derrick grabbed her shoulder and together they dove into the brush for cover, hitting the ground hard.
Instantly he rolled to his feet at the same time she did. They concealed themselves behind a thick tree trunk.
Breathing hard, she managed, “Plan?”
“I’m going to circle around, take him from behind. He’s a cocky son of a bitch, but I don’t want to give him an opportunity to call for backup. He’s not leaving here alive.”
“Agreed,” she said, sweating freely. “I guess that leaves me as bait again?”
“You play that role so well.”
She shoved him and he grinned. “Be careful,” she whispered.
His eyes narrowed and a look came over his face that chilled her to the bone. “Don’t worry about me, babe.”
He flicked the knife around, offering her the handle. She stared at it wordlessly, then looked up at him. “Won’t you need it?”
Another chill went down her spine. “No. I won’t.”
As soon as Derrick melted out of sight—how did he do that?—she started to thrash around in the bushes, making enough noise, Reyes couldn’t possibly miss it. She heard him approach, and as he came into view, she cried out and started to crawl. Focusing on her, his eyes scanned the forest. “He left you here to die?” he asked skeptically, looking around.
“My ankle,” she whined.
He took another step and raised the pistol. There would be no quarter from Reyes. But Derrick was there, as he pushed Reyes’s arm into the air and the gun discharged harmlessly. Derrick hit Reyes in the throat. Reyes choked and stumbled backward, and Derrick advanced with a menacing look on his face. Emma went for the gun, snatching it up. She aimed, but there was no clear target to hit; Derrick was too close. Reyes swung wildly, but Derrick was calm, almost serene as he ducked the punch. Reyes was off balance. Derrick stepped in, got him into a chokehold and didn’t let go.
Reyes struggled, but it was too late, the life going out of his eyes. As he slumped, Derrick let him go, his body dropping to the forest floor. Then he was moving, grabbing her hand, and they were running back the way they had come.
Back at the car, they retrieved their weapons. A soft groan made Emma’s head whip around. She ran to Velasco. “Derrick, he’s still alive.”
Derrick opened the back door to the sedan and went over to Velasco and slipped his hands under the man’s body, maneuvering him onto his shoulders, then lifting him with a strong push of his thighs.
He placed him carefully in the backseat. Emma got in behind him, belted him in and ripped off a piece of his shirt, pressing it to the wound. Velasco roused. “Ah, Emma, you are an angel,” he murmured.
“You’re going to be all right,” she whispered, having no idea if that was true or not. Derrick texted lightning fast on his phone.
He turned to her and said, “Hang on!”
Dirt and gravel spit out from under the wheels of the car as they raced along the road, Emma doing her best to brace herself against the bumpy ride.
In minutes they were back at the Ortegas’ hacienda, ready for a fight. But to her horror, the ground was littered with bodies. She grabbed Velasco’s hand and placed it against his wound. “Keep up the pressure,” she said and he nodded.
They exited the car and walked cautiously toward the house. The door was wide open, and more bodies lay prone and bleeding in the foyer from numerous gunshot wounds. Derrick said, “Clear,” when after searching the living room, he found no one alive. Upstairs, they found the nanny and several more dead guards. When they went down the hall to Gilberto’s room and pushed open the door, the drug lord was absent. But there was a body face down on the bed soaked in blood.
Derrick went to turn him over and they stepped back and gazed down at Arturo Ortega, his throat cut.
“That’s another cartel’s calling card,” Velasco said, leaning heavily against the door frame, his hand over the gunshot wound in his shoulder. “They formed from the remnants of the Medianoche Cartel, swearing retribution.”
“Gilberto just wants us to think he was attacked by the rival cartel,” Derrick said, backing away. They headed back downstairs and into the kitchen. As Emma went around the counter, she called out, “Derrick!” Gabriela Montoya lay on her back, gasping for each breath.
Emma knelt and supported her.
“Gilberto’s gone, taken your boy.” Her eyes were anguished. “I tried to stop him, but he knew that I told you everything. Hurry. He’s gone to the Caliche Airport. I think he’s taking your nephew to Colombia. Y
ou must hurry.”
She choked several times, clutching at Emma. She stiffened, then went completely lax as she died. With a heavy heart for the woman’s bravery, Emma released her and rose.
Velasco had his phone in his hand as he leaned his hip against the countertop for support. “Go. I will take care of this. Good luck!” he called as they raced out of the house and got back into the sedan.
With an angry set to his jaw, Derrick said, “It’s about fifteen minutes from here, Emma, a small, private airport—”
“If he gets on that plane with Matty—”
He glanced at her, the sick, naked expression in his eyes making her throat contract. “I know. Get on the phone and call the police,” he said as he gunned the car, and the speedometer rose past sixty.
She called the chief inspector of the Caliche police and he promised he would contact the forces near the small airport. She relayed the information to Derrick, his jaw clenched, his expression grim and determined.
They approached the small airport’s gate at top speed, not even slowing as the sedan busted through the metal barrier and guards started running and shouting. In the distance, Emma saw a small private jet, the stairs down, and Gilberto Ortega holding her nephew stepping up into the plane.
Then that dark, silent man turned and surveyed the speeding car. He rushed into the plane and pulled in the stairs as the engine fired up for takeoff, the sound loud in the car’s interior. As soon as the vehicle came to a screeching halt, Emma was out the door and rushing toward the jet, Derrick on her heels. Dread like lead in her stomach, she raced down the runway, her throat burning, tears running down her face, the dread turning to panic. Gravel from the tarmac flew from her running feet, and she stumbled, twisting her ankle, but that pain was insignificant compared to the fear racing through her system.
Even as she gained, the small plane accelerated, and her heart dropped as it lifted off into the air. She was suspended by horror, rooted to the runway, the only sound penetrating her senses, the powerful sound of the plane’s engines taking her beloved nephew into a terrible and blood-soaked future. Suddenly cold, she clenched her fists at her sides, her gaze riveted on the silver and white plane rising even higher into the sky.
