ABBIE
“What the fuck is goin' on out there?” El Segador shouted.
He'd returned to the office with a gun in his hand when we heard the sound of a helicopter hovering overhead. The sound of a voice from the loudspeaker began to echo through the warehouse.
“This is the police,” it said. “We have the building surrounded. Come out with your hands in the air.”
I looked over at Michelle and she looked back at me, a sense of hope blooming within our chests. For the first time since we'd been dragged into this mess, we had hope that we were about to be rescued, that somebody was coming for us. Instinctively, I knew King was somehow behind it. I didn't know how he'd done it, and I didn't care. Just so long as we got out of there alive and in one piece.
I flinched and felt my heart tripping over itself when I heard the sound of gunfire. It echoed around the warehouse, sounding like cannon shots. El Segador grabbed me by the hair and dragged me out of the office, leaving Michelle behind, still tied to the chair.
“Don't worry, Michelle,” I said. “It's going to be okay. They're coming for us.”
My head snapped backward and the coppery taste of blood filled my mouth. As tears filled my eyes, I looked up and realized El Segador had smacked me across the face. The look of rage mixed with worry that filled his face struck a chord within me – and I couldn't help but laugh.
“You stepped in it this time,” I cackled. “How are you gonna get your ass out of this sling?”
He cocked his fist back and glared at me for a moment before lowering it again. “Shut the fuck up, bitch,” he said. “You're my ticket out of here.”
Sunlight flooded the interior of the warehouse as a door to the outside was flung open. I saw the police pouring through the door and take up positions behind crates and barrels that had been left strewn about. Some of El Segador's men who'd been shooting at the helicopter through the windows refocused their attention on the more immediate threat – the battalion of cops coming straight at them.
El Segador pulled me behind a wall and with an arm around my neck, pulled me close to his body. He held the gun up and leaned around the corner. His men had taken positions behind the debris in the warehouse and began opening fire on the police who had been advancing.
“Drop your weapons,” came a voice through a bullhorn. “Drop them and put your hands in the air. Now.”
One of the Incas stood up and began spraying bullets toward the cops. When his gun ran empty, I watched his body twitch and jerk as the bullets tore through him when the police returned fire. His broken, bullet-riddled body fell to the floor with a meaty thud.
“Keep shooting!” El Segador roared, the near panic in his voice more than clear.
He leaned around the corner and began firing shots at the cops with his own gun. It was my one chance. I raised my foot and drove the heel down hard on his foot at the same time I threw my head back, catching him across the bridge of the nose. He grunted in pain, and his grip on me loosened just enough for me to pull away.
I sprinted through the warehouse, running as fast as my legs would carry me. I risked a glance back and saw El Segador still where I'd left him, still occupied with the cops. It gave me the time I needed to duck into the office where Michelle was still tied up. When I came through the door, a look of relief spread across her face.
“We have to get out of here,” I said quickly.
When I reached her, I immediately started working on the knots that held her to the chair. The sound of the gunfire seemed to intensify and grow louder as I worked, making it even more difficult to get the knots undone with my trembling fingers.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I had Michelle freed from the chair. She stood up and wrapped her arms around me, embracing me tightly.
“I was so scared,” she said.
“I still am,” I said as I pulled myself out of her grip. “And will be until we're clear out of this warehouse. We have to go.”
She nodded and took my hand as we exited the office. Movement to my left drew my attention and I felt my heart fall into my stomach when I saw El Segador – blood streaming down his face from where I'd broken his nose and blood streaming down his arm from a bullet wound – coming toward us. His face was a mask of rage and hatred. He raised his gun toward us and like a deer in the headlights; I froze.
“Bitch. I'm going to kill you,” he screamed and squeezed the trigger.
The clicking sound of his empty gun broke my fear-driven paralysis. I tugged on Michelle's hand and pulled her with me as we started to run.
“We have to run, Michelle,” I yelled. “We have to get out of here.”
She didn't say a word, but she ran every bit as hard as I was. She obviously wanted to get out of that warehouse every bit as much as I did. Risking a glance behind us, I was aghast to see El Segador giving chase. He wasn't holding his gun, but he was running hard – and closing the distance. If he caught us, it was going to be very, very bad.
There was a door up ahead so I steered Michelle toward it. If we could just get outside, we could hide or run far enough that the cops would be able to get that asshole before he got to us. I could hear his footsteps pounding the pavement behind me, but I didn't want to look back again for fear of falling into another paralysis of fear.
Putting my head down, I ran harder, encouraging Michelle to keep up. It seemed like it took forever, but we were finally at the door and then through it. After being in the murky warehouse for so long, the sudden burst of sunlight on my eyes was almost blinding. It took a moment to adjust, but I didn't have a moment to lose if we wanted to stay ahead of El Segador.
Acting quickly, I turned and slammed the door shut behind us. I threw a trashcan in front of it knowing it wouldn't hold it shut, but it might be an unexpected obstacle that slowed him down. Then, instead of making a straight line run for it – we were never going to beat him in an open ground run – I pulled Michelle with me and ducked behind a dumpster
We squatted down, our breathing ragged and labored. I looked over at her and held my finger to my lips, urging her to remain silent. A moment later, something heavy hit the door and we heard El Segador cursing in both English and Spanish as he tripped over the trashcan I'd thrown in front of it.
“I'm going to kill you, puta!” he screamed.
We crouched down and I risked a peek around the edge of the dumpster to see where he was and what he was doing. He was staring all around, trying to find us. Taking a couple steps toward the hill, he turned back around and looked at the door. He looked confused, perplexed, uncertain of how we'd disappeared. And then my heart sank when I saw a slow smile spread across his face.
“I know you're hiding out here, puta,” he called. “I know you're still here and I'm gonna find you.”
A small squeak escaped from Michelle's throat and I shot her a quick look, telling her with my eyes to keep silent. Glancing around the edge of the dumpster again, I saw El Segador looking behind and under crates and barrels as he searched for us.
I had to come up with something, some other plan, because it was only going to be a matter of time before he found us. But then over the sound of the gunfire, the men shouting, and even the helicopter, I heard another noise – one that was music to my ears. It was the sound of motorcycle engines.
I looked to the hill behind the warehouse and saw King and his men coming riding down. I don't know that I'd ever felt such a sense of relief before. Risking a quick glance around the dumpster at El Segador, I saw that he'd heard the bikes coming his way, too. With no gun in his hand or weapon at his disposal, I could see the look of concern on his face as King and his men approached.
Feeling emboldened, I stood up to see him run back to the door we'd all just come out of. He yanked on the handle but it had locked behind us. He was stuck out there.
“I told you King was coming for you,” I shouted. “Puta!”
The look of rage that distorted his features was almost comical. He took a couple of steps toward me but thought better of it as King and his men closed in. El Segador turned and ran in the opposite direction, hoping to put some distance between him and the approaching bikes.
But it was too late.
I watched as King gunned his engine and caught up with the running man in no time flat. It was like something out of an action movie as King jumped off his bike and onto El Segador's back, both men going down and tumbling along the asphalt. I squatted down and looked Michelle in the eye.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I said. “Help is here. Just stay right here for now. Don't move, okay?”
She nodded at me with vacant eyes. It was probably going to take her a little time to get over the trauma of all this. I stood up and ran over to where King and El Segador had gotten to their feet and were fighting. King's men had formed a circle around the both of them, cutting off any avenue of escape the Incas leader may have had.
King waded in and landed a hard punch that snapped El Segador's head backward. He followed that up by throwing a punch with his left hand. The Incas’ leader was ready, though, and caught the blow before it landed. He counterpunched and connected with the side of King's head, forcing him to stagger backwards a few steps, shaking his head.
His men shouted encouragement and I stepped between a couple of the bikes, trying to get a better view. King's guys looked at me and nodded as I stepped into the circle and began shouting my own encouragement to – as El Segador put it – my man.
Maybe it was seeing me there, rooting him on, or maybe it was something else. But King began to fight with a more frenetic, almost frantic energy. He threw punches left and right and followed up with devastating kicks to the torso. And though he took his fair share of blows, it was clear that El Segador was getting the worst of the beating.
It seemed like it had gone on for hours when in reality, it had probably been merely minutes, when El Segador collapsed to the pavement, his face a bloody mess. King leaned over, his hands on his knees, and tried to catch his breath. Blood dripped onto the pavement below him from a dozen different wounds, but when he looked up at me he smiled.
“Bailing out like that wasn't cool,” he said.
I shook my head. “No, it wasn't. But I had no choice.”
He nodded. “I know.”
There was some grumbling from King's men that made me stand up and look. Two uniformed cops had made their way through the bikes and into the circle. One of them squatted down next to El Segador and checked him for a pulse.
“He's beat to hell, but he's fine,” the cop pronounced as he took out a pair of handcuffs and hooked up the unconscious man before grabbing his radio and calling it in.
The other cop stood before King and I and looked a little uncomfortable. I looked around at King's men who had all dismounted and were standing in front of their bikes looking like they were ready to fight and were just waiting for King to give the word.
“I'm sorry, King,” the cop said. “Mahoney said I had to.”
He nodded. “I know. It's okay, Miller.”
“Wait, this isn't right,” I protested. “It was that asshole who kidnapped me and my friend. King is innocent.”
The cop looked at me apologetically. “I'm sorry, ma'am,” he said gently. “I'm just following an order.”
King looked at me and nodded. “It's okay, Abbie. I promise you.”
King held his hands out in front of him and the cop gently placed a pair of handcuffs on him, making sure they weren't too tight.