Too Far Gone (Sam Pope Series Book 4)

by Robert Enright

  Alex closed her eyes and took a deep breath, her resistance goading him into making good on his threat. Shaking his head, he lifted the hammer.

  A loud banging thundered through the workshop.

  Matt stopped, his arm raised high and he turned his head. Someone was banging on the door, the impact echoing through the abandoned workshop. The rest of the group stood to attention, hands ready at their waists, fingers itching to release their sidearms.

  Alex opened her eyes, thankful for her stay of execution. Luca turned back to look at Matt, who impatiently nodded for him to investigate.

  As the large man lumbered towards the door, his hand tucked to the inside of his jacket and clasping the grip of his handgun, Matt slowly lowered the hammer to his side.

  Everyone waited quietly as Luca pulled back the bolt on the door and with a hard tug, yanked it open.

  Despite the lack of visibility, Sam had been able to keep Alex in his line of sight. Annoyingly, she walked briskly through the streets of Naples, her speed enhanced by the spring shower that had washed over the town. It was near midnight and the weekday drinking scene was coming to a joyful close, with a few groups of inebriated locals stumbling through the streets. It made Sam’s job easier. The more people on the street, the less likely Alex would notice him.

  Keeping his distance, he watched her round a corner, walking down one of the many narrow sideroads that sliced through the city. Eager not to lose her, Sam skipped across the road, stepping between two parked taxis and followed.

  As he rounded the corner, she rounded another, and Sam marched quickly up the slight incline, his back groaning with pain.

  He waited a moment, pressing himself to the wall and ran a hand through his wet hair. Having been in the military so long, Sam wasn’t used to having long hair. It didn’t bother him as such, but the feeling of wet hair tickling the side of his face was alien to him.

  From the street ahead, he heard an Italian yell something in his native tongue, most likely a crude cat call at Alex as she walked alone.

  Sam shook his head.

  If only they knew. Alex may have been naïve, but she would certainly be able to handle a drunk idiot.

  Slowly, Sam ventured round the corner in time to see Alex stood, fist raised, in front of what looked like an abandoned car repair shop. She glanced back and Sam slowed his walk, trying his best to stumble like a drunk returning home.

  The blanket of rain and scarce lighting helped.

  Alex thudded her fist against the door and after a few shunting noises, the door opened. Sam saw the large man at the door, watched Alex step in and the door close.

  He hurried on, passing the few motorbikes and nice-looking cars outside. His training to absorb every detail took over and he noted the pristine condition of the vehicles.

  Undoubtedly, they belonged to the crew that were recruiting Alex.

  But for what purpose, Sam wasn’t sure.

  As silently as possible, he pressed his ear to the metal door, trying desperately to hear anything from the inside.

  Minutes passed, each one feeling like an hour.

  Maybe she was right?

  Maybe they were going over the details of the job and Sam had just overreacted.

  A large crash and the mixture of human and metal clattering to the floor echoed loudly inside.

  Something didn’t feel right.

  Sam knew that if he was wrong, he would be in for a rough time. Most criminals didn’t like intruders, especially one they didn’t know. But as the faint noise of someone rooting through a toolbox filtered through to him, the need to intervene took control.

  He looked around at his surroundings, nothing but a few cars and some old signage. One of the signs was broken, the metal bar that ran across the top had snapped due to years of rust and neglect.

  Sam wrapped his hand around the loose end, twisted and ripped the pipe clean off. His shoulder ached, but he ignored it. He had felt worse pain.

  The two scars on his chest from Project Hailstorm.

  The scarring and burns from his time in the small village of Chikari.

  Sam Pope was built to survive.

  Tightly gripping the pole, Sam stepped up to the door and slammed his fist against a couple of times. With the rain pouring down, Sam took a step to the side and took a deep breath.

  The sound of footsteps grew louder and then the loud clang of metal as the bolt was moved.

  The door swung open.

  Sam stepped into action.

  Chapter Five

  Luca’s teeth didn’t stand a chance.

  As the pole collided with his jaw, his mouth was reduced to a mushy pulp of blood and tooth. As the cracked remnants of his smile burst forth in a spray of blood, Luca stumbled backwards, the sickening crack catching everyone in the workshop by surprise.

  Sam swept in, glancing the pistol tucked under Luca’s arm and instinctively reached out and caught the hulking man before he hit the ground. His hand slid into the jacket and quickly reunited him with a firearm.

  It felt right in his hand.

  Like a part of his body had been returned to him.

  With his other arm, he used Luca’s deadweight momentum to spin him round, pulling his arm tight and locking him in place.

  Luca was now a motionless, human shield.

  With the gun raised in his right hand, Sam scanned the room.

  Beyond the few depleted cars that had long since been stripped of any value, he immediately locked eyes on Alex. Her eyes were red with tears. Her chin was red with blood. Circling her, surrounded by forgotten work benches were three heavies, each one of them decked head to toe in the black uniform of Blackridge.

  Beside Alex, an immaculately groomed man smiled cruelly and dropped the hammer he was holding onto the ground. As the clang echoed around the room, so did his sarcastic clapping.

  ‘Impressive,’ the man called out, taking a step away from Alex and towards the door. Sam made a show of aiming the gun at him. ‘Whoa. You want to lower that thing?’

  ‘Let her go.’ Sam’s words dripped with menace. With his eyes locked on the ringleader, he noticed the others moving in his periphery.

  They were getting into position.

  Their hands slowly moving to their sidearms.

  The leader took another step, clenching his teeth as if indecisive, and looked back at his hostage.

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Sam. It is Sam, right?’ The man had the unfortunate mannerisms of a salesman. ‘Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Matt and we…’

  ‘Just let her go,’ Sam said again, readjusting the weight of his unconscious shield. Matt continued as if he hadn’t heard.

  ‘We were hoping your friend here would help us get in touch with you.’ He turned and gave Alex a thumbs up. ‘Good job. Now I don’t have to break several of your bones.’

  ‘You know who I am, right?’ Sam said coldly.

  ‘Indeed.’

  ‘Then you know I’m not bluffing when I say if one of your attack dogs even thinks about reaching for a gun, I’ll put a bullet in yours and their heads before they’ve even tickled the trigger.’

  Matt’s smile dropped and he ran his tongue across his teeth, weighing up the severity of the threat. Behind Sam, the cold wind swirled through the door, sprinkling the back of his neck with rainwater. After a few tense seconds, Matt gave the order to stand down.

  Obediently, they did.

  Matt turned back to Sam, a hint of frustration furrowing his brow.

  ‘How do you think this is going to go, Sam?’ He shrugged. ‘Do you think we’ll just let you walk out of here and not hunt you down in the street? You know the deal. Wallace has already made the necessary calls to keep the heat off our backs tonight. So what’s the plan?’

  ‘Alex.’ Sam looked past Matt. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘Look at me, you mother fucker,’ Matt barked, his New York accent taking over. ‘I don’t fail.’

  Alex cautiously lifted herself from
the chair, eyeing the rest of the team who snarled at her. Her hesitant steps quickened, and she marched past Matt, who smirked. Alex approached Sam, who uncomfortably shifted Luca’s deadweight once more. His back roared with pain under the pressure, but Sam set his bearded jaw. He gritted his teeth and maintained his aim.

  ‘Are you okay?’ Sam asked, not taking his eyes off the squadron of armed mercenaries before him.

  ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’ Alex spat some blood on the floor. ‘I’ve been hit harder by a lot smaller.’

  ‘Anytime,’ Matt offered.

  ‘Out front. Start the car.’

  ‘I don’t have the keys,’ Alex replied.

  ‘Improvise.’ Sam smiled, and Alex nodded, stepping out into the blusterous spring night and out of sight. Matt shook his head. A moment later, the sound of shattering glass drifted into the room and Matt sighed.

  ‘Look, Sam. I’m a reasonable man. Drop the gun and we’ll let her go.’ Matt took a step forward. ‘Sure, Wallace wanted us to put her in the ground but I’m willing to look the other way. Just lower that thing, come with us, and we’ll take you to Wallace. He just wants to talk.’

  The sound of an engine roaring to life interrupted Matt. Sam smiled as Alex sounded the horn, hurrying him to make his escape. Sam dropped Luca, who flopped uselessly to the floor, his already shattered jaw crunching against the solid concrete with a sickening thud.

  Sam clasped his other hand to the gun, steadying his aim and ensuring his shot.

  ‘Tell me, Matt. What’s the price on my head?’ Sam spoke with a calm that belied his circumstances.

  ‘Why? Are you going to offer to double it?’ Matt’s response was laced with venom.

  ‘No. I just wanted to know how much you were willing to die for.’

  The colour fell from Matt’s face and Sam felt a smile flicker across his own. Despite all the bravado and a team backing him up, Matt was under no illusion of how dangerous Sam was.

  And they both knew it.

  As the rest of the Blackridge members slowly began to advance, Sam stepped backwards through the door, his gun trained directly at Matt’s forehead. Behind him, Alex sat behind the wheel of an Alfa Romeo 4C Spider, her hands clasped on the leather steering wheel. The rain splashed against the red bonnet, the droplets sliding down the sleek curves of the sportscar.

  With one foot out of the workshop, Sam heard her unlock the passenger door and it swung open.

  Sam dashed to the car.

  As he jumped in and slammed the door shut, he could see the movement of Blackridge as they gave chase.

  He turned to Alex, surprised by her expression.

  Sheer focus.

  As he saw Matt burst through the door, Sam tightened his grip on the handgun and said one word,

  ‘Drive.’

  With an ear-piercing squeal, the wheels spun and in one fluid motion, Alex spun the car out of its tight parking space. As she neared the top of her turn, she slid the car into first and the car shot forward, straightening completely as she pulled her full force on the steering wheel.

  Sam heard a shot fire.

  A bullet shattered the rear window, but missed its target.

  Through the broken glass and the roar of the engine, Sam could hear Matt barking directions and in the rear-view mirror, he could see them leaping into action.

  As a few house lights flicked on, Sam could only imagine the fear of the local residents.

  A gunshot is unmistakable.

  Judging by Matt’s boastful notion that Wallace had called off the heat, Sam estimated they had five minutes before the Polizia di Stato would be flooding the streets, their blue cars converging on their location like a wave of justice.

  Five minutes.

  They didn’t have long.

  As two motorbikes roared to life behind them, along with the headlights of the silver Mercedes A-Class, Alex took the corner at full speed, sliding through the gears and handling the car with precision. Despite the imminent threat behind them, Sam was impressed at her skills, understanding immediately how she garnered such a reputation.

  One that had led her to being recruited for something other than street racing.

  That had pulled her into his war and put her life at risk.

  As their assailants rounded the corner, Alex pulled onto the clear main road, slamming her foot down and zipping through the empty street. As they shot past a taxi rank, the gentlemen working the night shift looked on in bemusement.

  ‘Where are we going?’ Alex asked, her eyes glued to the road.

  Before Sam could respond, another gunshot echoed through the street, the bullet clipping the boot of the car. Alex startled, but kept the car steady as Sam flicked his eyes to the mirror.

  The woman driving the motorbike had her arm outstretched, the handgun recklessly aimed in their direction. She was gaining on them.

  And fast.

  Behind her, the other motorcycle followed, along with the A-Class, with Matt sat angrily in the passenger seat.

  They wouldn’t be able to outrun them all. Not in the middle of a gunfight in the centre of the city.

  A few feet from the car, Sam could see the woman lining up another shot.

  ‘Brake now,’ Sam commanded and instinctively, like a young recruit obeying her commanding officer, Alex slammed her foot on the break. The wheels screeched across the wet tarmac and the car slowed instantly. The motorcycle slammed into the back of the car at full force, sending their pursuer hurtling over the top of them before clattering onto the bonnet and to the road in front. The momentum of the car took them forward, the wheels rolling over the woman, the weight of the car crushing her chest and leg, killing her instantly.

  The motorcycle spun off to the side of the road, clattering into a parked car, the alarm wailing through the burst of broken glass.

  One down.

  Alex, shaken from the death she’d just caused, recomposed, rattled through the gears, and powered down the long road that wormed through the city like an arterial vein.

  ‘Just keep going.’ Sam assured her. ‘You’re doing fine.’

  She nodded unconvincingly, then yelped with fear as a bullet shattered her wing mirror. The other biker was closing in and as Sam glanced into his own wing mirror, he could see the driver tactfully weaving behind them.

  Moving targets were harder to hit.

  But not impossible.

  Behind the bike, Sam could see Matt’s car chasing them down. Despite the man’s cockiness, Sam knew Blackridge wouldn’t send just anyone after him. It would be someone Wallace trusted. Someone who would get the job done.

  There was only one way out of this.

  Up ahead, they were quickly running out of road, as it split into a T-junction. To the left was the turning towards the motorway and Sam signalled for Alex to take it.

  ‘I need a clear shot,’ Sam demanded and as they approached the junction at a frightening speed, Alex yanked up the handbrake and turned. The momentum of the car drove it forward, the rain spraying up from the tires as they locked, the vehicle sliding to the right. As it did, Sam lifted the gun, drew his eye level with the sight and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet blew out the visor of the biker, sending him spiralling off the bike and a burst of blood and glass into the night sky. The motorcycle toppled to its side, slid towards them but Alex slammed down the handbrake, bursting forward up the junction and allowing the bike to slam into the chain-link fence ahead.

  Two down.

  Alex took the motorway at over ninety miles per hour, the car practically leaping onto the dark, wide road as they took the slight incline. The road was empty beyond the lights of an overnight lorry in the far distance. They were heading out of town, where the police would be too busy dealing with the mess they’d left behind.

  The lights of Matt’s car joined them on the motorway.

  Alex took a few deep breaths, her eyes locked on the slither of road her headlights presented. Sam slid the clip from the gun, counting the four
bullets he had left. As a truck barrelled past on the other side of the motorway, the inside of their vehicle was bathed in light and Sam snapped the clip back. As they approached the next exit, Sam could make out an industrial park in the feeble glow of a few street lights.

  Four large factories framed a car park, with articulated lorries locked away for the night.

  ‘Take the exit,’ Sam said calmly.

  ‘It’s a dead end,’ Alex replied, the tremor in her voice betrayed her calm.

  ‘Trust me.’

  Alex nodded and glanced into the rear-view mirror. The headlights of their pursuers were closer and gaining fast. At the last possible moment, she spun the wheel, the back of the car swinging wildly to the right and she wrestled the wheel to defeat the wetness of the road.

  The car behind raced forward and Alex slammed her foot down on the pedal. The car lurched forward, evading the Blackridge attack, and zipped down the dark, bendy road towards the industrial park. Sam spun in his chair, looking out through the shattered window.

  All he saw was darkness.

  With the motorway clear and the mission at stake, there was no doubt in Sam’s mind that Matt was screaming for the car to be turned around.

  They would soon be in pursuit.

  As Alex sped towards the industrial park, Sam knew they had the upper hand, if only for a minute.

  They had better make it count.

  Chapter Six

  ‘When are you coming back?’

  Natalie ‘Nattie’ Stone’s lower lip trembled as she spoke and it broke Alex’s heart. At fifteen years old, Nattie was already destined for big things. Her grades were off the charts and on the few parents evenings Alex had been able to attend, they’d told her how Nattie was already on the radar of some of the country’s biggest colleges.

  Cornell had been calling.

  Columbus too.

  While it was embarrassing to step into the parental role, Alex knew they couldn’t rely on their mother. Rhonda Stone wasn’t a bad woman. When she was herself, she was a kind soul and had a smile that could power the city of New York.

  But those days were few and far between.