Damian
“You shouldn't be going out there alone,” Crank said. “You know that, bro.”
I shrugged. “Got no choice, man.”
“There's always a choice.”
“Not this time,” I replied. “They get a sniff of any Kings out there, and Cara's a dead woman. And I can't have that on my head.”
Crank sighed and took a drag on his cigarette. After Mendoza had gotten his message to me, I'd walked out of the hospital – with Crank's help. I wasn't anywhere near one hundred percent, but I had to get out there. I had to get Cara away from them. It was my fault she was mixed up in this shit, and I couldn't let anything happen to her. She was an innocent in all of this.
We stood at the far end of the parking lot where there weren't any lights, well away from the doors to the hospital. Less chance of anybody seeing us out there.
“Then just take me,” Crank said. “I'll hide in the back seat or the trunk or somethin'.”
I shook my head and gave him a small smile. “Not this time, brother,” I said. “The only thing worse than something happening to Cara would be something happening to you.”
“Bro, you know what's gonna happen to you,” he said. “You're in no condition to fight. Hell, you needed my help getting out of bed.”
I took a drag of my cigarette and exhaled, watching the thick plume of smoke rise upward. I'd run through the scenario a million times since I'd gotten Mendoza's message. And I didn't think there was any way I was coming out of it alive. But at the very least, I could make sure that Cara did. Make sure she got home to her little boy. I owed her that much.
“I appreciate it, brother,” I said. “But I'm not gonna jam you up. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you.”
“What happens to me is my call, Damian,” he said.
I shook my head again. “Not this time. This one's on me.”
“This is bullshit, bro,” Crank growled. “I can't let you walk into that meat grinder alone.”
“That is my choice, my brother.”
I dropped my cigarette onto the pavement and crushed it out. Checking my watch, I saw that I needed to get going. Looking over at Crank, I saw the anger and worry in his eyes. I pulled him into a tight embrace. And I couldn't help but feel like I was saying goodbye. Probably because I was.
After a moment, we stepped back from each other and an awkward moment of silence descended upon us. Crank was like my little brother. Closer than a brother. And even though I would have loved to have had him by my side, covering my back, I wasn't letting him walk in there. I wasn't going to let anything happen to him.
“Don't even say it,” Crank said. “Just say, I'll see you later. And you get your ass back here.”
I nodded and gave him a tight smile. “I'll see you later then.”
He nodded, but we both knew I was probably lying. There was no way I could guarantee I was coming back. Mendoza tried to kill me once – there was no doubt he wanted me out there to finish the job. Crank tossed me the keys to my bike. I really wasn't in any shape to be riding – but if this was going to be my last night on Earth, I sure as hell was going out on my bike.
“Thanks, brother,” I said and gave him a grin. “I'll see you soon.”
“Yeah,” Crank said and looked to be fighting tears. “Soon.”
I fired up my bike and rode off, leaving him standing in the parking lot looking after me. Pain radiated through my body with every jolt I took. But then the adrenaline started to kick in, and the pain began to fade – somewhat. I'd been on plenty of missions over in the shit where I wasn't fully up to speed, but once that adrenaline started flowing, there was no better painkiller.
Mendoza had told me to meet him at a warehouse behind a bar off the highway – a bar owned by the Fantasmas. Talk about stacking the home field advantage. I had no idea how many of them were there or what I was going to be up against. About all I knew was that they were all going to be armed. Heavily armed, knowing those assholes.
Thanks to Crank, though, I wasn't going to the party without a few goodies of my own.
The closer to my destination I got, the more I seemed to calm down. My heart rate slowed, and a sense of peace settled over me. It had been the same back in Afghanistan. It was almost instinctual – the tenser the situation, the calmer I tended to be. It was as if my mind and body knew I needed to be clear-headed and focused. And so, I was.
By the time I turned off the road and rode past the bar, I was almost in a Zen-like state. I parked next to a car I assumed was Cara's and dismounted. Hanging my helmet on the handlebar, I looked around. There was a loud and raucous crowd inside the bar. I saw light in the windows of the warehouse and counted only half a dozen bikes. Six to one – not great, but better odds than I expected.
I adjusted my jeans and took a deep breath. Letting it out, I pulled a smoke out of my pocket and lit it. Exhaling a plume of smoke, I walked to the warehouse door and pulled it open without knocking. I slammed the door shut behind me, and all of the voices I heard near the front of the building stopped immediately as all eyes turned in my direction.
“Mendoza,” I said and took a drag of my cigarette. “Nice to see you again.”
Mendoza was sitting in a chair at the front of the building. Cara was sitting at his feet, a look of pure terror on her face. Six of Mendoza's men were fanned out, three on either side of me. And all of them had their guns trained on me.
“Can't believe you're still alive, puto,” Mendoza said and laughed.
“What can I say? I enjoyed you shooting me the first time so much that I wanted you to do it again.”
Mendoza laughed. “This cat has got some balls. I'll give him that much,” he said. “Check him.”
I tensed up a little bit. My plan – such as it was – depended upon Mendoza's men being sloppy. Careless. It was misdirection. My hope was that if I gave them what they expected to find – a gun – then they wouldn't necessarily expect me to have anything else on me.
I raised my arms and locked my hands behind my head as two of Mendoza's men approached – one kept his gun on my face while the other patted me down. He found the gun tucked into my belt at the small of my back. That was the one I'd intended for them to find. And after a cursory pat down of the legs of my jeans, they stepped back. He handed the gun over to Mendoza who casually tossed it onto the table beside him – a table loaded with weed and guns.
Cara looked at me, and I could see the small spark of hope in her eyes – hope that I had a plan to get us both out of there. I tipped her a wink, more to reassure her than anything. My plan was a one in a million shot, but it was all I had at the moment. I just didn't want her to know that. I didn't want her to lose hope simply because I needed her sharp, focused, and ready to go.
“Okay, you have me here,” I said. “Now, let her go.”
Mendoza smiled. “Oh, I'd planned on it, holmes,” he said. “But then I got a look at her and had a better idea for ole Shelly here.”
Shelly? She'd obviously given them a fake name to keep her real identity a secret. I was glad for that. It also showed that she was still thinking on her feet – which was a good thing.
“Yeah?” I asked. “And what's that idea?”
“She's hot, hermano,” he said. “I think I'm gonna make her my personal pet. But don't you worry, I'm gonna take real good care of her.”
“We had a deal, Mendoza. You said if I turn myself over to you that you'd let Shelly go.”
He shrugged. “What can I say? Plans change.”
“Yeah, you do that a lot. Kind of like with that security run. We were never supposed to go to Oregon. And we never agreed to chaperone your shipment of H. You know we don't deal with that shit.”
“That's why I couldn't tell you, holmes,” he said. “We needed the bodies, and I wasn't about to put my guys in harm's way. You and the Kings? You guys are expendable.”
I smirked. “You're a class act, Mendoza. Last chance though. Let her walk out of here right now.”
He laughed, but his men looked tense. I stood where I was, calm and relaxed, with my hands still locked behind my head.
“And if I don't let her walk out of here?” he sneered.
“Then I'm going to kill you.”
Mendoza laughed again and shook his head. Cara looked at me, and I tried to signal her with my eyes to be ready to move. His men looked at one another and then started to laugh a little nervously. While they were busy trying to decide whether it was okay to laugh or not, I made my move.
Slipping my hand underneath my hair, I pulled the gun from the clip-on holster I'd fastened to the collar of my jacket. They'd never seen it and never thought to look that high on me. They'd been careless and sloppy – just like I thought they might be. Mendoza's men weren't big on the little details. Which was only to my benefit.
Moving with a speed that caught them all by surprise, I pointed the gun straight at Mendoza's face and closed the distance between us faster than any of his men. I had the barrel of my gun pressed against Mendoza's forehead before any of them even reacted. Looking straight down into his eyes, I gave him a lopsided smirk.
“You all better put your guns down, or I'm going to put your boss down,” I said evenly.
Mendoza's eyes widened slightly, and then a look of pure rage crossed his face. “How in the fuck did you putos miss that? How the fuck did you let him get the drop on all you fools?”
Nobody said a word – and nobody lowered their guns either. I looked Mendoza in the eyes, not bothering to look at his flunkies and gave him a smirk.
“Unless you want to be cleaning your boss's brains off the wall of this warehouse, I would suggest you all drop your guns. Now.”
The look of hatred on Mendoza's face was as plain as day. When he looked into my eyes, I could see his burning with pure rage. Somebody was going to have a real bad night.
“Put 'em down,” Mendoza ordered. “Now.”
“And kick them over to me,” I added.
“Do it,” Mendoza hissed.
Behind me, I heard the guns hitting the floor. That was followed by the sound of them sliding across the concrete as Mendoza's men kicked them over. I still hadn't taken my eyes off the Fantasmas president, not trusting that if I looked away for even a second, that he wouldn't take a shot.
“Did they all drop their guns, Shelly?” I asked.
She looked around and nodded. “Yeah.”
“Do you know how to remove the clip from a gun?”
She nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
“Good,” I said. “Go collect all of their guns and take the clips out.”
I heard her moving around behind me and listened to the familiar sound of clips being taken out of a weapon.
“What next?” she asked.
“Keep the clips,” I said. “And throw the guns as far as you can out into the dark part of the warehouse.”
I heard her grunt as she threw the weapons. That was followed by the clatter and sliding of them hitting the concrete. Judging by the sound of them, she'd gotten a good toss on all of them. They sounded pretty far away.
“We clear?” I asked.
“Clear,” she said.
“You're fuckin' up big time, holmes,” Mendoza hissed. “You're gonna pay for this. So fuckin' hard.”
I laughed. “You put four bullets in me. I think you're still coming out ahead in this deal. Take the win and shut the fuck up.”
“Damian?”
“Get out of here, Shelly,” I said. “I'm going to hold them here until you've got away safely.”
“No way,” she replied. “I'm not leaving you here. Not with these jackals.”
“No choice,” I said. “Get out of here. Now.”
“But—”
“I said go. Get out of here!” I snapped. “Now!”
She jumped as if I'd slapped her, but then slowly turned. With one last look at me, she ran out of the warehouse, the door slamming shut behind her.