Chapter 17 #2
August chuckled. “All those times I tried to get you to wear makeup, and you finally do it so I can make you look”—he flailed a hand at Ricardo’s expression—“like that.”
“I’m not trying to be attractive or fashionable.”
“Good.” August barked a laugh. “Because my dear…” He grimaced and shook his head.
“Uh-huh.” Ricardo turned to him. “And if I offered to rail you over the side of the bed, you’d still let me, so…”
“Well, yeah. With my back turned, sure.”
Ricardo just rolled his eyes. “Get your gun. We have to go.”
At that, August’s snark evaporated, and in the same moment, a knot tightened in Ricardo’s stomach. This was a risky gambit. Even if NightRaven lowered his guard, he was still dangerous.
Clearing his throat, Ricardo touched August’s waist. “Be careful.”
“You too.” August swallowed, his expression unsettlingly serious. “I expect you to fly home with me in the passenger cabin, not the cargo bay.”
Ricardo shuddered. “Likewise.”
Despite his disgust at his own handiwork on Ricardo’s face, August leaned in for a quick, light kiss.
Then they stashed a few more weapons in their clothes and headed out.
Ricardo had worried that NightRaven would want to meet them someplace public and crowded.
He knew little about the guy, but his gut said that collateral damage wasn’t a significant concern of his.
Ricardo didn’t do collateral damage. If this idiot had demanded they meet where there were a lot of people, he’d have done his level best to negotiate something else.
Especially since they were meeting in broad daylight—mid-morning, the day after NightRaven had made contact.
To his surprise, the location du jour was a small boat landing area on the Chagres River near where it branched off from Gatun Lake.
It wasn’t far from the Miraflores Locks of the Canal, either; something Ricardo tucked away in case they needed to make an escape, ideally without drawing attention from the ships passing through or the authorities monitoring them.
The boat landing itself was down several winding roads in an area that was just a handful of miles from civilization, but as August drove them closer, it seemed incredibly remote.
As if they were heading far out into the middle of nowhere even while they were a mere stone’s throw from the Locks and its surrounding towns.
“I don’t like this,” August declared as he followed the narrow road through the thickening jungle.
“I don’t either.” Ricardo shifted in the passenger seat. “But I’m not sure what choice we have.”
August grunted unhappily. He’d already been pissed that he had to drive, but he’d agreed that it would help sell their charade. NightRaven wouldn’t buy Ricardo’s awful condition if he was behind the wheel.
“Can we shoot him and feed him to the crocodiles?” August asked.
“There aren’t any crocodiles in the lake.”
“Um, actually there are, and I’ll prove that by throwing chunks of NightChicken into the water until they come eat him.”
“You’re not going to use them to lure a jaguar out of the jungle so you can pet it?”
August quirked his lips.
Ricardo huffed. “No, August. You are not petting a jaguar.”
“Ugh.” August pouted noisily. “You never let me do anything fun.”
“Uh-huh. And if you pet that kitty, then we really will have to make a trip to the emergency room. How about we just stick to the story of one of us fictionally being attacked by the local wildlife?”
“As long as we’re still in agreement that you never let me do anything fun.”
Ricardo just sighed.
“And technically you were attacked by the local wildlife, so it’s not even completely fiction.”
The scorpion sting beneath the bandage itched as if awakened by August’s remark.
“Just… shut up and drive.”
Moments later, the GPS directed them onto a small dirt—well, mud—road that led down to the boat launch. There, half a dozen boats covered with canopies bobbed against the docks. Judging by the signs and logos, these were for companies that ran boat tours of Gatun Lake.
Ricardo’s neck prickled as he took in the scene.
It was weird that there was no one here right now.
Then lightning flashed over the lake, and it made sense.
Hopefully the tours didn’t start until later in the morning, though they likely ran before the afternoon deluge started.
Especially on days like today when thunder already rumbled in the distance and lightning forked across the gunmetal gray sky.
August descended the hill slowly, looking around as he did. Ricardo did too, though he only moved his eyes; he had to keep up appearances of being sickly and lethargic.
In the small, muddy area between the road and the boat launch, August turned the car around so it was facing up the hill.
They could make a quick escape if they needed to.
They took off their seat belts for the same reason—in case they needed to make a run for it, though Ricardo prayed August didn’t have to run on his damaged feet.
And then, engine idling while rain battered the car, they waited. Out in the open. Fully exposed. They waited.
Neither of them spoke. Neither moved. Even their breathing seemed to have fallen completely silent, though it may have also just been drowned out by the torrential downpour beating on the roof and windshield. Ricardo couldn’t hear the thunder, but he could feel it rumbling through his bones.
He was still unsure of NightRaven’s intentions.
At first, he’d told August they would meet up and “finish this,” hinting at some kind of duel or something.
When he’d called to give them the location, though, he’d seemed more willing to approach this as a civil negotiation.
To what end, Ricardo couldn’t say, but the idiot had sounded less like he wanted to come in guns blazing and more like this could—somehow—end without bloodshed. Or with minimal bloodshed.
Naturally, Ricardo didn’t trust him any further than he could throw him.
Neither did August.
“You can show up and shoot us like the coward you are if that’s what you really, really want,” he’d informed NightRaven.
“You can set a trap, ambush us, take us down, and then continue to game the system until you’re in the top spot.
But just know that our handler and the RateYourHit site admins are aware of this situation, and randomly offing the competition through unsanctioned and unprovoked kills is a serious TOS violation.
You kill us, you lose your account, your rating, and all your connections. Toodles!” Then he’d hung up.
“When did that become a TOS violation?” Ricardo had asked.
“Around the time Victor tried to kill us to cull the competition.”
“Huh.” Ricardo had quirked his lips. “At least that asshole was good for something.”
And August’s threat might have hit its mark. After all, they’d been here almost twenty minutes, and no bullets had come through the windshield.
But a pair of headlights had just crested the hill behind them. The seat beside Ricardo creaked as August leaned forward. In silence, they watched a black car come down the muddy slope.
“That him?” Ricardo asked.
August shook his head. “I don’t know.”
The driver did the same thing they had—turning around so the vehicle was pointed up the hill.
“That has to be him,” Ricardo said under his breath.
“Probably.”
Then August’s phone pinged. He looked at the screen and read aloud: “We all step out and face each other like men.” August tsked. “This guy has seen way too many movies.” Then he shoved his phone into his pocket. “Ready?”
“When you are.” Ricardo tucked his “wounded” right arm against his stomach and reached for the handle with his left.
They exchanged nods. Then they both stepped out of the car in the same moment the driver side door of the black car opened.
But the person who stepped out wasn’t NightRaven.
It was a kid who couldn’t have been more than sixteen.
Panic surged in Ricardo. In Spanish, he called out, “What’s going on?”
The kid shook his head. “I don’t know. The man just told me to park down here and get out.” He looked terrified.
“Oh, fuck,” August said.
Yeah. Oh, fuck was right.
Ricardo swept his gaze around their surroundings, including up on top of the hill.
And that’s when he saw it—movement. Subtle, barely distinguishable from the vegetation behind the curtain of rain, but movement.
He ordered the kid back in the car in the same instant he lunged for August. He meant to grab August around the waist and haul him toward their car.
But there was a crack that definitely wasn’t thunder, which sent them both diving for cover.
The front tire of their car hissed. A second shot punched through the hood, probably right into the engine block.
The kid was already spinning his tires and taking off. August had wisely darted behind their car, and Ricardo went to do the same.
Crack.
Crack.
Oh, fuck. Oh, fuck, that wasn’t good.
One bullet hit a trauma plate in his vest. One…
One did not.
Ricardo tried to keep moving even as the ground dropped out from under him. He was suddenly out of breath, and he had no idea if it was panic, or if the bullet had collapsed his lung.
Either way… not good.
“Ricardo!” August flew out from behind the car. Ricardo tried to shout for him to stay covered, but he couldn’t speak, and anyway, August was laying cover fire that would’ve drowned out his words anyway.
August dragged him through the mud behind the car. There was more gunfire. August shouted something Ricardo didn’t hear.
From where he lay on the drenched ground, he could see beneath the car. Right to the rapid trickle of oil draining from the puncture oil pan into the mud below.
Their vehicle was crippled. The kid in the other car was gone. There was no way August could carry him up that hill and to safety. Especially since safety was miles away.
He closed his eyes and wheezed.
There was no escape. No way to get help.
Even if August could find a way out…
Ricardo was fucked.