Chapter Three #2
“Mickey!” I screamed, taking us both down, me on top of him, unclipping our harnesses the second we hit the floor so we wouldn’t be yanked back out.
Wind rushed into the room behind us as our ropes fell away.
He gasped and I rolled off him, frantically running my hands over his chest. The bullet had been stopped by his body armor and vest, but his mouth was silently opening and closing as he tried to speak.
The wind had been knocked out of him but he gave me an affirmative blink, letting me know he was okay.
Silently thanking God that he was alive, I dragged both of us behind a massive leather couch, toppling a console table which had been positioned behind it to further insulate my buddy from stray bullets while he recovered. Over the cacophony of noise, I heard a scream from nearby.
I took a chance and poked my head up over our barricade for only a split second and my blood ran cold.
Huddled flat on the floor were the two young men who didn’t at all fit in with the other thugs who were shooting back at the DEA Tac Team.
Judging by the way they were clinging to each other like little limpets, I knew they were the innocent bystanders we’d seen down on the street.
Though what they were doing in this den of snakes, I couldn’t comprehend.
When one of them looked over at me with frantic, wild eyes, I gestured at him, hoping he’d do as I indicated and keep his head down and make himself small.
He pulled his friend up and half crawled, half dragged him until he was close enough for me to grab onto his collar and drag them the rest of the way.
He tried to get free of my hold, so I wrapped him up tight in my arms, pulling his lither body close. He stopped struggling immediately.
“Stay down!” I yelled over the sheer level of noise, bullets striking bodies, furniture, and for that matter, every fucking thing in the room, including the walls where innocent families beyond had just been awakened from their slumber.
I cursed Carson Turley and his decision not to allow us to evacuate civilians as I turned to Mickey who was sitting up.
I checked him, his breathing was steady, and I immediately reported in.
“We have the two civilians, Captain! Milky took a hit to the vest but he’s okay.”
“Hold position, Twizz!” Candy’s steady, calm voice was comforting.
“Roger.” I loosened my grip on the boy, only then spotting the weapon he was holding. I reached for it, growling as I disarmed him. “What the fuck are you doing?” I barked at him.
He paled, letting go of the miniature pocketknife. It had a pearl handle and a two-and-a-half-inch blade.
“Planning on doing some whittling?” I closed it with a snap and shoved it inside my vest. I was actually more impressed than angry with the guy for thinking the tiny thing could have caused any decent amount of damage to the gang bangers…anything bigger than a scratch anyway.
“Give that back! My grandfather gave it to me!” he shouted over the noise.
If it wasn’t so ridiculous, I would have laughed. A bullet whizzed over him, and I instantly pushed his head back down. “Stay down!” I glanced over at Mickey who nodded back to me when I yelled, “You okay?”
“Yes,” he gasped. “Just—” He waved at his chest. “Couldn’t breathe for a sec.”
“Clear!” Someone shouted in the coms.
I tuned back in to the noise in the room, realizing the shooting had stopped.
“Clear!”
“Gomez?” Turley’s voice came loud and clear.
“Not here, sir!” one of the DEA guys shouted just as another one came around the side of the couch pointing his gun inches from my face. I instinctively threw my body across the smaller civilian, glaring at the asshole.
“FBI!” Mickey screamed. “Get that fucking weapon out of my buddy’s face!”
The guy smirked at me from behind goggles, and in my opinion, took way too long to swing the rifle away from us. “Who are they?” he asked, pointing the gun in their direction.
“Civilians,” I said, standing to my full height of six feet as I reached out and grabbed the barrel of his gun, lowering it to the floor so he wouldn’t accidently shoot them.
“And if you point that at him again, I’ll shoot you myself!
” I looked down at the kid with the knife and held out my hand. “Come on. You’re safe now.”
He grabbed it as I hauled him to his feet. “Thanks,” he muttered, helping his friend stand up.
“You okay?” I asked.
“Define okay,” the kid shot back.
Smart ass. I grinned, impressed, then glanced over at his friend. “You?”
He burst into tears and threw shaking arms around the first guy. I dismissed the DEA agent before looking back at the young couple, feeling a pang of sympathy for them. “Let’s get you two out of here.”
The DEA agent grabbed my bicep. “What do you think you’re doing? They’re not going anywhere.”
I yanked my arm out of his hold. “Look at them! Do they look like cartel sicarios? Now…back the fuck off. They’re in my custody.
” I was spoiling for a fight. “Get the fuck out of my way or we’re going to have words, DEA.
” I touched my ear. “Candy!” I said, staring the guy right in the face, able to see him now that he’d lifted his face mask.
“Milky and I have the two civilians in custody. We’re bringing them down. ”
“Roger. See you in a few, Twizz.”
“Gomez?” I asked.
Before Candy could answer, I heard another voice in my com. “Turley, we’ve got a man down.” For a split second, worry coursed through me as I froze.
“Who?” Turley barked.
“Sibley, sir. He was covering the stairwell on eight.”
“Was?”
“He’s…he’s dead, sir. Agent Sibley is dead.”
“Son-of-a-bitch!” Turley swore. “Does anyone have a twenty on Gomez?”
There were a lot of no sirs in my com in the next ten seconds, with men on the DEA tac team reporting their positions throughout the building.
“Keep position and cover all egress points,” Candy barked. “Hampstead! Way! You’re in position with those civilians until I have an all clear!”
“Yes, Captain!” I replied. I could hear him running and I took a moment to picture my team’s positions in my mind.
Good and Smith were covering the back, Clifford had the sniper position on top of the BearCat, Joy was in the alley to the west, Rex was across the street in high sniper position, which meant Candy was most likely headed for the alley to the east between the Chinese grocery and the apartment building.
“Captain,” Rex drawled. “We’ve got a civilian stampede.
” I could hear panicked screaming in the background and realized people were charging out of the front of the building, running from the gunfire which had woken them.
Just as Candy had predicted, we had a hell of a problem on our hands now.
All Gomez had to do was run out with them to get lost in the crowd.
“Fuck!” I swore, hating Turley and the goddamned DEA with the fire of a million suns.
“What is it?”
I glanced over at the young man and his crying friend.
His gray eyes were wide with alarm, but I simply shook my head—trying and most likely failing—to put on my best smile.
He dragged his gaze away from me and looked around the room, gasping and turning a little pale as he took in the damage and the blood-soaked bodies.
“Oh, God, Chico,” he said breathlessly.
I followed his gaze to a Hispanic man who was seated on the couch. A TEC-9 was lying across his lap, and he was bleeding from several leaking bullet holes.
“Friend of yours?” I asked.
He turned to look at me and lifted his chin. “Just met him tonight actually.” There was hesitation and a catch in his words which plucked at my heart strings for some reason. “We were discussing exfoliating when all this happened.”
Exfoliating? I blinked. “What?”
“Take us out of here,” his friend said shakily.
“We have to wait. The man we came here to get isn’t in the apartment,” I said, eyeing him sympathetically. “We’re searching for him, but until we know where he is, it’s safer to stay here.” I softened my voice, feeling their desperation to flee the scene of so much carnage. “I’m sorry.”
The guy nodded, looking around, probably for somewhere to sit that wasn’t covered with blood and dead guys. He settled for wrapping his arms around his middle when his friend finally turned him loose.
More than a minute passed before my earwig came to life again. The cursing in the com was instantly drowned out by a volley of automatic gunshots.
“Check in!” Candy yelled. My brothers sounded off one by one…all but Joy who was covering the door to the west alley between the trinket shop and the apartment building. The spit of a sniper rifle came almost instantly afterward.
“Clifford? Monroe?”
“Fuck’s sake!” Clifford swore. “Missed him, Cap,” he said in his strong, earthy British accent so different to Joy’s refined Downton Abbey one. “Tosser came out guns blazing through the west door. For a split second, he had Joy in his sights. Must have been expecting trouble, sir.”
“Alain! Come in.”
I heard a grunt of pain in the earwig and held my breath when he didn’t immediately reply.
“Affirmative, Captain,” Alain finally drawled.
“He winged me in the shoulder, but I’m fine.
Took cover behind a dumpster, but I can’t see him now.
Sorry, sir…couldn’t get off more than a shot or two before he hit me.
Look for a short, bald, Hispanic armed with a TEC-9. ”
“How bad are you hit?”
Alain breathed heavily. “Just…looks like he just grazed me.”
“Hold in place, Almond!” Candy shouted. “Clifford…can you see the shooter?” He was running again. “Monroe?”
“No, sir!” Clifford said. “Too many civilians on the street, Captain.”