30
Valeria pushed past the smoke and saw they were in a storage area. Drugs wrapped in bricks were packed five feet high on pallets. On the far side of the square underground room, a door was thrown open.
Dalton shot and a man dropped, revealing a set of stairs. Valeria could hear the footsteps above as people reacted to the explosion. Lizzy and Val took cover behind a pallet of heroin five feet from the door as Dalton and Grant took each side of the door.
Dalton looked to Grant, who gave a nod and then went low. He fired as Dalton tossed a flash grenade up the stairs. The men flattened themselves against the wall, covered their ears, and closed their eyes. Valeria did the same as she felt the sound from the grenade shake her body like a clap of thunder. She took a deep breath and pushed aside the nerves. She used the fear to propel herself up the stairs behind Dalton and Grant.
They were pinned at the top of the stairs. Dalton was low and Grant was high as they fired into the main part of the living area. The ceilings were low, only seven or eight feet, but it was above ground. The solar panels were essentially the roof. The floor was polished cement and there was a large black leather sectional couch, a polished table in a white kitchen, and behind that were closed doors, probably leading to bedrooms.
Valeria looked around. There was a window behind them, but too high up for her to reach from the stair landing. If Manuel had any sense, he’d be trying an escape, and she couldn’t let that happen. Valeria turned among the smoke and smell of gunfire and shot out the window.
“Lizzy, help me up!”
Lizzy looked toward the window and back to Valeria and cupped her hands.
“What are you doing?” Grant yelled.
“Clearing the outside. I’ll come around in through the back and trap them.”
Before Grant could argue, Valeria put her foot in Lizzy’s hand and was boosted up and out of the window. The morning sun was beginning to rise as the dark dampness of the tunnel seemed far away.
Valeria whirled at the sound behind her and saw Janet drop to the ground next to her. Janet didn’t say anything, just continued scanning the area. Four cars were lined up to their right near the front door of the compound. Valeria closed her eyes and focused on the sounds between the bullets. The sound of glass shattering told her Manuel was coming right to her.
Valeria ran crouched over to the nearest car. She opened the gas tank and tore a strip off her shirt. She stuffed it down into the gas tank and then lit the end dangling out. There was no way she’d let Manuel escape.
“Come on,” she whispered to Janet as they both ran to the front door of the house. The house was painted desert tan with only small narrow windows above her head. No wonder they had trouble seeing it.
At the sound of heavy footsteps running toward them, Valeria raised her weapon and pressed her right side against the house. Janet dropped to her knee just to Valeria’s left and aimed for the men running toward them. In less than a split second, Valeria and Janet saw who was in front, decided it wasn’t Manuel, and fired. The two men dropped as Val aimed her gun around the corner. Manuel darted behind a solar tower support as a volley of gunfire erupted from the house.
“Manuel Hernandez, DEA, put your weapon down and come out with your hands up,” Valeria yelled a second before the fire reached the gas tank. The car exploded, shooting up and breaking some of the solar panels and rocking the rest of them. Valeria made her move. She ran to where Manuel was hiding right as Manuel stepped out with his knife.
“Watch out!” Janet screamed but it was too late. The knife sliced and Valeria screamed in pain.
Grant counted five men. Three of his team were left in the building. It should be easy, but the enemy was hiding behind the polished concrete island and an overturned natural wood dining table. An explosion shook the house, sending the solar panels rocking above them. Above all the noise, Grant heard a scream.
“Val!”
“Focus, Grant,” Dalton ordered as he fired a round of shots into the dining table.
“We need to make a move,” Grant said as he looked around the room. “Cover me, and I’ll run for the couch.”
Grant didn’t wait for Dalton to agree because he knew he wouldn’t. The chance of being shot was high, but something needed to be done or Manuel and Roland would escape while they were pinned down in the stairwell.
Grant focused on where he wanted to run and kept low as he darted around the furniture. His shoulder was already sore from the shots Locke fired into his vest in New York, and he wasn’t surprised when he felt bullets slam into him once again.
Grant dove for cover behind the couch. He slid on the polished concrete floors and slammed his shoulder and head into the leather couch. Adrenaline was pumping as he hunkered down and felt the soreness, shortness of breath, and blood. Not all the shots had been stopped by the vest. Blood bubbled from a bullet wound on the outside of his upper arm before disappearing under the dark camo he wore, but he felt the hot sticky liquid running a path down his arm.
Grant held up his hand signaling to Dalton to lay cover before pulling out two handguns and taking a deep breath. Lizzy had taken Grant’s place by the doorjamb and the two opened fire on the two locations on opposite sides of the room. Grant crouched and then exploded. He leapt onto the couch and launched himself up and over the back of it. He sailed through the air and over the table where two men were hiding. Grant’s momentum slowed when a bullet ripped into his leg from behind the counter on the other side of the room at the same time a scream came from the same spot. Grant dropped like a weight to the ground, rolling with guns in hand as he fired.
The two men behind the table hadn’t even turned all the way around when the bullets tore into their heads. Suddenly there was silence as Grant, Dalton, and Lizzy looked around.
Dalton ran across the room with Lizzy right behind him. “Are you hurt?”
“Nah, just a couple holes.” Grant looked down at the blood dripping out the cuff of his sleeve and down at the dark hole in his hip.
“We need to dress that,” Dalton said, pulling out his first-aid kit.
“No time. Find Roland and Manuel. I’m fine.” Grant took a deep breath and pushed himself against the wall to stand. His arm was numb, but his hip was on fire, a burning feeling so hot he swore his blood was going to boil. “See, I’m fine.”
“You’re white and sweat is pouring off your face,” Lizzy pointed out.
“Yet I can still shoot a gun, so let’s go.”
Grant turned to the two doors behind them. “Dalton and I will take this one. Can you get that one?” he asked her.
Lizzy didn’t bother answering. Instead she stepped up to the door and waited for Dalton to get into position. Grant held up an open palm with his pointer finger sticking out. “One,” he silently mouthed before a second finger joined the countdown. On the silent three, Dalton and Lizzy kicked in the doors.
A man’s scream came from the door Dalton had breached as Grant cursed with each step he took. Leaning against the doorjamb on his good side, he swept the area while Dalton bent over the bed and grabbed a pair of very nice loafers. Attached to the loafers were expensive trousers. And in those trousers was Roland Westwood.
“The other room is clear. Window broken. And it’s much nicer than this one. I’m guessing that was Manuel’s room,” Lizzy said as a smile grew on her face watching Dalton trying to wrangle a slippery Roland who was trying to flail out of his grasp.
“Then where is Manuel?” Grant asked.
“Where’s Valeria?” Lizzy asked as they both turned to look out front where the explosion had been.
The knife tore through her shirt and sliced her shoulder open. “Shit!” Valeria screamed as the pain shot through her. Manuel was already moving. He was running toward the car farthest from the fireball threatening to ignite the second car.
Gunfire sounded as Janet took aim and peppered the car with bullets. Valeria ignored the pain and sprinted after Manuel, who paused momentarily, trying to decide which direction to run now that his two bodyguards were dead. He spun to face her, and the gun he pulled out had Valeria leaping behind the metal base of a solar panel for protection.
“Manuel Hernandez,” Janet called out. “We’re DEA agents. You’re under arrest by the authority of the US and Mexican governments. Put down your gun and lie on the ground.”
Valeria yelled it out in Spanish even though she knew Manuel spoke perfect English. She wasn’t going to have him suddenly claim he didn’t know what was happening because he didn’t understand what they were saying.
Manuel responded by firing a shot at her. It pinged off the metal base. Janet began to fire and Valeria ran. It would be much easier if they didn’t want him alive. Valeria pumped her arms as she pushed herself faster. Right before she jumped, Manuel turned and fired.
Grant shoved open the front door right in time to see Manuel raise his gun and fire it at Valeria. The momentum of the bullet counteracted her forward movement and sent her flying back.
“NO!” Grant yelled, running straight at Manuel, firing. Manuel turned to run, but then Valeria rolled over onto her hands and knees behind Manuel. She raised her gun and fired. Manuel’s knee buckled as he fell to the ground. In a flurry of Spanish and Gaelic, Valeria cursed as she slowly pulled herself upright and tugged at the Velcro holding on her Kevlar vest. With a gasp, she dragged in air as the vest dangled open at the sides.
“Motherfucker!!” she yelled in three different languages as Manuel turned and raised his gun. Valeria slammed her foot into his face, sending him flying backward and crying out in pain.
He struggled through the pain, trying to find the gun he’d dropped as Valeria kicked it out of the way. Janet raced forward with her gun drawn, reciting his rights. Grant hobbled forward. He needed to see that she was safe. He needed to touch her, to hold her.
“You bitch! I should have killed you the last time I had you!” Manuel surged up, grabbing her legs and pulling her to the ground. The impact of her hand hitting the ground was unexpected and sent the gun skittering away. Her back was to his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist, clawing for her secondary weapon.
“You already tried what, twice, to kill me? What makes you think you can succeed this time? Locking me in a barrel for days and you still couldn’t kill me.” Valeria raised her right arm across her face and slammed her elbow back into Manuel’s face. She rolled off him as soon as his grip loosened and sprang to her feet, pulling her second gun.
“Make one move toward her, and I’ll blow your fucking head off. We have Roland. You’re expendable now.” Grant’s hard tone caused Manuel to pause and look up. Janet and Grant had him completely covered. He wasn’t getting out of this alive unless he surrendered.
Valeria was standing slightly behind him as Janet stepped forward with cuffs in her hands. “Put your hands on your head,” she ordered, but when Manuel moved his hands, it wasn’t to his head.
“Gun!” Valeria yelled as Manuel pulled up the back of his shirt and reached for the gun, located in the small of his back. It happened too fast to stop. Manuel pulled the gun and swung it toward Janet. A trio of gunshots erupted as Manuel was hit from all directions.
Silence. Only the sound of Manuel’s quivering body hitting the ground was heard. Valeria slowly moved forward and kicked the gun from his hand. Janet hurried over and pressed her fingers to his neck. “Dead.”