Cara
I was halfway to my car when I suddenly pulled up and stopped. What in the hell was I doing? I couldn't leave him in there with those guys. Not after what he'd done; what he'd risked for me. And I saw the look in his eye – he intended to kill that man, Mendoza. I couldn't let that happen either.
I opened my car door and pulled out my cell phone. After making a quick call to the police to let them know where I was and what was going on, I dropped my phone back onto the car seat. I turned and ran back to the warehouse, pulling the door open and stepping inside.
“I told you to go.”
Damian's voice echoed around the building. He didn't sound pleased in the least. But that wasn't my concern. I walked to the front of the warehouse, and everybody was just as I'd left them – Damian was still standing in front of Mendoza with his gun pressed to the Hispanic man's forehead.
“I'm not leaving you like this,” I said. “I've already called the cops. They're on their way and will be here any minute.”
Mendoza scoffed. “Yeah, sure you did and sure they will.”
I shrugged. “I don't care if you believe me or not. But when you're being led out of here in handcuffs, don't come crying to me.”
Damian shot me a quick look before turning his gaze back to the man in the chair.
“What in the hell are you doing Shelly?”
“Making sure these criminals get everything coming to them,” I said. “Kidnapping is a serious crime and these guys are looking at some real time.”
I walked over to the table and picked up a pistol – a nine millimeter. I'd taken enough lessons that I was pretty good with guns. I'd never pointed one at a person before – the only shots I fired had been at paper targets. There was a small piece of me that was afraid of what would happen if one of the guys made a move before the police got there.
Damian flashed me an exasperated look. Yeah, he'd told me to go. But I wasn't leaving him in harm's way, and I wasn't about to let him murder somebody on my behalf. There were sirens in the distance, and they were drawing closer.
“Here they come,” I said.
What happened next was a blur. Mendoza lashed out, knocking Damian's gun hand aside while launching a fist into his stomach. Damian grunted in pain and took a couple of steps back – the blow from Mendoza obviously causing him a tremendous amount of pain. How could it not? He'd been shot there only a few days ago.
That one action, though, seemed to spark something in his guys because they all started moving at once. They rushed at Damian who turned and fired at them. His first shot caught one of Mendoza's men in the thigh. He screamed and clutched at his leg as he dropped to the ground. One of the guys turned in my direction, a look of malice on his face as he ran at me.
My hands trembling and my heart racing, I squeezed off a shot. A crimson burst blossomed on the guy's stomach as the bullet tore through him. His scream was blood-curdling, and he fell to the ground, a pool of blood spreading out underneath him as he continued to wail.
More shots were fired, more bodies hit the ground, and I was all out of sorts. My head was spinning, my heart was pounding, and my body was trembling so bad, I felt like I had palsy. But then cops came flooding into the building, guns in hand, shouting orders. I was in such a haze that I was having trouble deciphering what they were even saying.
I dropped the gun and put my hands in the air. I got down onto my knees, Damian kneeling next to me, as the cops sorted out the situation. I looked around and saw a few of Mendoza's men on the ground, screaming in pain as blood poured from their wounds.
But as I looked around, I realized one thing – there was no Mendoza. He was gone. He'd escaped during all of the confusion. And that fact sent a cold chill down my spine. It meant that this wasn't over.
One of the cops came over and escorted Damian and me out of the building. They split us up for independent questioning.
After being on the scene for a few hours, we were finally released, the cops having no other conclusion to draw than we'd been acting in self-defense.
It was late, and I was beat – but I was alive.