Chapter Seventeen
Alex Gomez
Two bored women are more than Austin and I can handle for another day. Moon won’t allow anyone in to see Madison and our incoming information on Fernandez, which was keeping the women busy, dwindled to nothing. Too much estrogen at loose ends is not a good thing.
Dax took Sofia home so she could see their children. At least she’s happy. Melina and Celina—yeah, their names sound funny when spoken together to me too—want to shop at the mall. I could tell by Austin’s expression that it’s not exactly his favorite thing to do either. We decided to man up even if it kills us.
Fact—the women will go nowhere without us until the threat from Fernandez ends. I don’t even trust twenty guards watching over them at this point. Celina will stay in the house or within my sight at all times.
Window shopping became the women’s answer to the boredom problem. If there’s a dumber waste of time on the planet, I’m unaware of it. The way Celina explained it to me, if you shop to buy, you find nothing. If you window shop, it changes your shopping mojo, her words, and you find clothes you actually want. I rolled my eyes at that logic and Austin’s head may have been turned away to do the same.
The ladies also decided we needed to dress casually so we didn’t look like a couple of thugs. I thought Austin would put a stop to that one, but he’s so fucking in love with his woman that he just smiled, kissed her, and came downstairs in khaki pants and a polo looking like he just showered and changed after a day on the golf course. Now I’m wearing jeans and a black dress shirt along with fucking western boots Celina bought me last Christmas. The only description I come up with is flaming queer cowboy. If anyone actually says the word cowboy in my vicinity, I’ll drive my fist into their face until only jagged teeth remain.
The mall is crowded with everyone using it to escape the sweltering 109-degree temperature outside. I realize now that full suits would have made us stand out, and as much as I feel like an idiot, we halfway fit in. As we walk through the mall, it surprises me that mothers and fathers allow their young teens out in skimpy outfits better suited for night club wear. I also don’t understand the amount of cash these kids carry. Life was not this simple for me. We never had money, even though I worked alongside my father from the time I was old enough to brush my own teeth. But that was a lifetime ago, and now I’m trying to blend. “Blend” is another of Celina’s words.
We’ve walked through the crowded mall for at least an hour and I’m ready to make some shit up so we can leave. Sore feet maybe? A bunion? Celina’s tried on more clothes than will fit in her overflowing closet. I had no idea “window shopping” included dressing rooms.
We leave another store behind and enter the main lobby of the mall. “The man over there in the black shirt and pants, is he one of yours?” Austin asks casually.
I glance at Austin and then in the direction he nods. A short, thin, Hispanic man, dressed in black pants and gray shirt, with a pencil mustache is watching us. He doesn’t look away when I spot him. I don’t see the bulge of a gun but that doesn’t mean he isn’t armed. “No, he’s not one of ours,” I say without taking my eyes off the man in black.
“He’s been following us for ten minutes. He waited out here while we were in the last store and made a quick phone call about sixty seconds ago.”
I walk three steps and take Celina’s hand in my left one while keeping an eye on our tail. “We’re leaving. Walk quickly and be prepared for anything,” I say urgently. Thankfully both women are armed and know how to handle themselves.
I usher Celina in front of me and Austin does the same with Melina. The rest of the crowd has no idea they’re in danger. Our SUV is parked outside one of the larger department stores and we beeline in that direction. Celina places the bag she’s carrying in her left hand and lifts her purse so it’s at her midsection. The purse was special order and it’s made to release her gun quickly with the pull of Velcro.
The man behind us makes another phone call while trailing us and I’m sure there are men outside waiting. I send a text to the control room at the house requesting backup while my eyes scan the area. We walk past the east side main entrance doors and two Hispanic men wearing long black jackets enter. No one wears a jacket during the Arizona summer much less full length. I push Celina behind a circular stairway that leads to the second floor of the mall and Austin does the same to Melina.
Then all hell breaks loose.
Automatic weapons ignite the crowd and everyone starts screaming and running. The two men continue walking our way, firing at random. There are fucking children in this mall, but they don’t care where their bullets hit. We are their targets and they’ve brought the firepower to take us out. I dive behind a cement garbage can and Austin hunkers down beside the women. I shoot at the men and hit one, but he doesn’t go down. Cement shatters and a huge piece falls off beside my ear. Bodies are littered around us and we’ll be next if something doesn’t give. Austin scrambles to a door beneath the stairway and it thankfully opens. He waves the women inside and returns fire while I make a run for the door. “Go,” I yell because the women are waiting for us. They turn and run through a dimly lit, long, narrow hallway and try a door on the left, but it’s locked. The next door opens. Austin places his hand on my shoulder and turns slightly so he can take care of business behind us without running into a wall. Automatic weapons fire after we’re through the door and clear of the hallway. Austin turns the deadbolt on the door after we pass through. We keep running because they’ll shoot through the door and possibly hit one of us before they shatter the lock.
“You’re bleeding,” Celina says.
“It’s a scratch, don’t fucking stop running.” My head was either grazed by a bullet, or a piece of cement from the trash can nicked me. I’ll live if we make it out.
The hallway turns left and we keep running. The very faint sound of sirens can be heard outside and I’m hopeful we’re close to an exit. My prayers are answered when we take a right turn and a bright red Exit sign is over a door about twenty feet away. “Put away your guns,” I tell the women. The door we stop at is an emergency exit with a big sign that says an alarm will sound if we use it.
The women practically fall through the door when the men chasing us turn the corner and open fire again. I’m through the door when Austin goes low, slides through, turns, and fires back.
Police cars pour into the parking lot and they may not be in time.
“They backed off,” Austin yells. He’s on his knees and holsters his gun beneath his shirt. I grab Celina’s hand as one police vehicle pulls in front of us. “Act hysterical,” I whisper into her ear.
“It’s not hard,” she says with a grimace.
“Oh, my God, they’re killing people,” she screams and covers her face in hopelessness after the first police car slams on its brakes. “Help them, you need to help them.”
Melina adds her rendition of a hysterical female and the cop’s attention turns away from us to notifying his buddies about what’s happening inside.
“Three Hispanic males with automatic weapons. Multiple casualties,” I shout to the officer and point to the door we just exited. The cop jumps from his vehicle and pulls out an AR-style rifle. Another five squad cars pull up behind him with squealing tires.
“Clear the area,” he shouts and that’s exactly what we do.
The women run in the direction of the car, which isn’t far. We can’t pull our guns because we risk being shot by police. Too many people are running from the mall at this point and our fast jog won’t draw attention in the melee. I grab the key fob from my pocket and unlock the SUV’s door from twenty feet away.
“We aren’t out of danger yet. Be prepared for anything and keep your guns low so they can’t be seen unless we need to use them.”
The ladies do exactly as I say. Austin turns around in the seat after he’s inside and peers out the back window. “I’ll watch behind us, you take care of what’s in front of us.”
The vehicle is bulletproof and will stand up against anything short of a rocket launcher. We just need to get clear without police intervention. “Celina, call the control room and give them an update. We’ll be coming in the house hot and they need to be ready.” She pulls out her phone and makes the call. I keep my eyes peeled for our men. I have tracking on the SUV so they’ll find us. I pull onto the freeway and pick up speed. Two exits later, two of our SUVs drive onto the on-ramp, spot us, and move closer until one is beside our vehicle and one is behind. Celina stays on the line with the control room. I don’t bother telling her my men are in touch with the control room too. This gives her something to do while Austin and I continue to scan the area.
I glance into the rearview mirror and see that Melina has her gun in her lap. She’s ready for whatever happens next. “Is anyone injured?” The car is filled with our heavy breathing and I haven’t heard signs of pain but need to ask.
“We’re good,” Austin replies. I have no doubt he’s checked Melina.
Celina leans forward. “I’m fine but you aren’t. You’re bleeding everywhere. It’s more than a scratch.”
“It’s a head wound and they bleed. I’m good.” Honestly the adrenaline keeps me from feeling anything. I’m not dizzy or in danger of losing consciousness. Celina lifts her hand from her position and I take it for a quick squeeze and then place mine back on the steering wheel. “Tell them ETA is ten minutes.”
Celina relays the message.
Nine minutes later, we turn the corner and I can see the front gate, which is open with armed men to either side. We roar in along with the other two SUVs.
Home. We’re safe. For now.