Chapter Seven
Maggie wasn’t prepared for the crushing weight of Kevlar slamming into her.
Her lungs collapsed under the attack. Her heart rate rocketed into her throat. A crack of thunder distorted Jones’s voice as he ripped her off the ground and shoved her up the incline. No. Not thunder. A gunshot. Someone had taken a shot at them. “They found me.”
Jones was still yelling orders at her, but she couldn’t hear through the high-pitched ringing in her ears. He seemed to use his body as a shield between her and the shooter as he pushed his hand into her lower back. Her leg threatened to collapse straight out from under her, but he somehow made up for the difference.
Maggie slapped her hand on flat ground as they reached the rim of the oversize crater and dug her fingernails in to get a good grip. Only she didn’t have to drag herself over the lip. Jones was already pushing her upward.
“Run for the SUV, Maggie. Don’t stop. Not even for me.” His mouth was close to her ear, and a pool of dread liquefied at the base of her spine. His voice remained even as he unholstered his weapon and took aim at the invisible threat. “I’ll cover you. Go!”
Two shots. Three. The gun kicked back in his hand, but the force didn’t even seem to faze him. Not like the shotgun rocking against her shoulder the night of her escape. This was the soldier in action. Socorro’s combat controller. The one she’d been too traumatized and injured to appreciate when he’d pulled her out of Sangre por Sangre ’s hands. This was the man who’d risked treason and death to save his brother—and paid dearly for it.
“I’m not leaving you here!” Maggie scrambled to her feet. The SUV’s headlights cut through the night, but they suddenly seemed much farther than she’d originally estimated. Pressure intensified in her ears as bits and pieces of the night she tried to run for her life took control. Fear snaked into her brain and spiked her senses. The numbness in her left leg pricked at the back of her knee and held her hostage. Dryness scratched along her throat. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. In an instant, her body betrayed her.
“Maggie, you’ve got to go!” Jones latched onto the back of her scrub top and pushed her forward.
She wanted to. More than anything, but her body suddenly had lost the ability to obey her commands. Gravity sucked her feet against the earth, trying to drag her into the sandy depths. Holding her back. And she wanted to let it. She wanted to disappear and pretend that none of this was happening. That she could do something for the lives lost here that night. Her lungs hurt. She couldn’t get enough air. No matter how many steps Jones forced her to take.
A red dot zipped ahead of her. Then steadied.
“Get down!” Strong hands dragged her off her feet. Jones tucked her into his side and rolled, and all she could do was hold on to him for dear life. They landed in a sticker bush that bit through her clothes and pulled at her hair, but it was nothing compared to the pain that would’ve come with a gunshot.
The stars overhead streaked into her vision as another bullet kicked up dirt after impact. Mere inches from her head. Her protector returned the assault, but even with her limited knowledge of weapons, she knew his ammunition was running out. What felt like minutes sped up into distorted seconds until she couldn’t distinguish one moment to the next. It was all a jumble that threatened to shut her down for good. There was only one way out, as she’d taught herself in the days in Toledano’s hands. One way to make the pain go away. Maggie tightened her fist around the shoulder of his vest, desperate for something real to hold on to as her mind went to that numb place and started to detach from her body. “I can’t go back.”
Putting himself between her and the gunman, Jones dragged her to face him. “I’m going to get you out of this, but I need you to do everything I say. Understand?”
Another red beam cut through the night and crept up the side of Jones’s neck. The gunman had him in his sights. She’d done this. In an instant, she’d put them in a position to lose. And they were out of time.
“Stay with me, Maggie.” His jolt shuddered through her, and the numbness she wanted so badly drained away. Jones’s hold on her was too strong. Too real and impossible to ignore. “I need you to trust me.”
Trust. She didn’t trust anyone. Not even her own family and friends—people who’d known her all her life. Who’d let themselves be manipulated and gaslighted by a handsome liar who’d built her up to be some kind of unstable attention seeker. But Jones... Jones wasn’t like that. No. This was the kind of man who defended others far more and with more determination than himself. Who would give up anything for his team. And her. Even his own life. He’d already proven that, hadn’t he? Her fingers rushed with blood as she released her grip on his vest. “I trust you.”
“Then take Gotham and run. Now,” he said.
The crack of another bullet screamed through the night.
Gotham raced ahead of her.
Maggie launched forward as a patch of dirt exploded at her feet. Right where Jones should’ve been. She couldn’t look back. Couldn’t assure herself he hadn’t gotten caught in the cross fire. She pumped her legs as hard as she could take, and a cramp knotted at the back of her thigh. She made out the SUV’s frame through the headlights ahead. Maybe fifty feet. She was going to make it. Her left toes caught on a protruding rock, but she wouldn’t let it trip her up. She had to keep going. No matter what. Because as much as she trusted Jones to protect her, he trusted her to follow through with his commands. To get help.
She’d spent so long trying to prove she was worth something—to someone, anyone—that she’d forgotten what that felt like. To be valued. Feeling flooded into her legs and reinforced the last of her strength as she closed in on the SUV. Her hand slammed onto the hood as she ripped the driver’s side door wide open.
Gotham launched into the back seat. His short claws scratched against the glass as she secured the hatch. He tried to get free of the vehicle when he realized Jones hadn’t followed, but there was no way she was going to send him back out there.
“He’s going to be okay.” She had to believe that. Maggie hit the push-to-start, locking her and the husky inside. The engine vibrated at her feet, and she didn’t waste any time launching the SUV into Drive. Momentum hauled her into the back of the seat as she flipped the vehicle back the way they’d come. “We’re going to get help. Okay? We’re coming back for him.”
A second set of headlights cut through the night and beamed through the passenger’s side window. No. Too strong to be manufacturer headlights. They had to be spotlights. Blinded by the onslaught, Maggie raised one hand to shield her vision. She couldn’t make out the vehicle, but her gut said if she took her foot off the accelerator, she’d end up right back in that dank hole Sosimo Toledano had put her in. Maneuvering away from the source, she floored the pedal.
Another set of lights brightened ahead.
She turned the wheel so fast to avoid the collision, Gotham slid across the back seat with a stressed yip. Maggie shook her head as though that would somehow free her of the fear clogging her throat. Just as a third vehicle lit up its spotlights. She slammed on the brakes, and the SUV slid a dozen feet across the water-starved ground.
Surrounded.
It was an ambush. Toledano and his men had been waiting for her to come back for the SD card. Just as Jones had warned. There were too many of them to outrun on her own. Damn it. The photos, the bodies, her eyewitness account—anything that would prove the atrocities Sangre por Sangre had committed—would be extinguished if she didn’t find some way out of this. Tremors shook through her hands as she slid her palms against the steering wheel. She was out of options, her best one being facing off with a shooter at least a hundred yards behind them.
Silhouettes of men filtered out of the vehicles, with one taking the lead. Her heart kicked in her chest as she automatically filled in the dark hole where a face should’ve been with Toledano’s features. Other things came into focus then, too. The outline of guns registered through the spotlights. This SUV’s windows were bulletproof. She’d already tested their strength, but that’d been with one weapon. Not an entire army ready to tear apart anything that got in their way.
The head figure started walking toward her.
The same survival instinct that’d gotten her onto her feet after Jones and Gotham had rescued her from the cartel slid in to take control. That blind fear threatened to steal logic as Maggie twisted around in her seat. The curve of the man-made cemetery took shape out the back window. One second. Two. No movement. Nothing to suggest Jones was alive, that he’d taken out the gunman or that he was on his way to her right now.
She’d left him to fight this battle alone. Like the coward she’d become during the divorce. Never wanting to have to sacrifice anything more than she had to. Waiting for someone to come and intervene, for a hero to knock down the door and fix the problem. That hope had died when her mom had stopped returning her calls, when the invites for nights out with girlfriends got fewer and farther between and coworkers avoided interacting with her in the office. When she’d somehow survived another day of interrogation. Jones had been that for her. Her knight in shining Kevlar armor.
But no one was coming this time. Her breath eased out of her chest as Maggie rammed the gearshift into Reverse. She didn’t know what would happen, but she couldn’t let Jones fight this battle himself. Not when she was the reason it’d started in the first place. “Hang on to something, Gotham. I think it’s about to get really bumpy.”
She slammed her foot onto the pedal.
H E WAS PINNED DOWN .
Jones assessed the amount of ammunition left in his weapon. Not enough. The boulder at his back worked as cover for now, but any move on his part and that sniper would finish him off. He studied the blacked-out terrain spreading out in front of him. Maggie had gotten to the SUV. He could just make out the headlights swinging around.
Then another set.
And a third.
His pulse thudded harder as he took in the vehicles closing in around her. Oh, hell.
A bullet ricocheted off the rock mere inches to his left. Dust flicked up into his eyes, and Jones automatically raised his arm to protect his face. The sniper had the advantage here. Hold Jones hostage while the rest of the cartel got what they’d come for. Maggie. What he wouldn’t give to get his hands on a rifle of his own.
The SUV skidded to a halt. Surrounded.
He wouldn’t make it in time. Sangre por Sangre was going to take her.
And there was nothing Jones could do about it.
A section of the boulder jutted into his spine, and he pressed into the shard deeper to keep him in the moment. To stop the onslaught of failure from creeping in. He wasn’t overseas. He didn’t have to do this alone. And Maggie was going to make it through this. No matter what it took.
Jones tried to gauge the sniper’s location without putting his head in the cross hairs. A bullet ripped through the ledge of rock and broke a chunk away. He would lose his cover in a matter of minutes.
Except the SUV was coming right at him. Backward. And it wasn’t slowing down. Confusion barely had the chance to take hold before Jones was forced to evacuate his hiding spot. The vehicle slammed into the boulder standing between him and a sniper’s bullet. The cargo tailgate snapped free. “Get in!”
He didn’t have time to question Maggie’s tactics as two more heavy rounds cut through the SUV’s side panel. The back driver’s side tire deflated beneath the vehicle’s weight. Jones shoved to his feet and launched himself into the cargo area. He managed to grab onto one of the back seats as Maggie floored the accelerator. Gotham centered his head between the seats to get a look at Jones in the back. Throwing back the removable floor, he catalogued the weapons every Socorro operator was required to carry and pulled his rifle free. “What the hell are you doing? I told you to get out of here.”
The back window caught a single bullet. Aimed directly at Jones’s head.
“I tried!” Maggie wrenched the wheel to the left to avoid a head-on collision with another vehicle coming at them too fast. The SUV fishtailed and grazed along the truck’s fender. Two more sets of headlights were headed straight for them as the third kept on their tail. “I’m not sure if you know this, but I’m not a very good driver. They took away my license. I didn’t have any other choice.”
“You don’t have a valid driver’s license?” Jones loaded a round into his rifle.
The truck on their tail surged forward. Metal screeched against metal as the two vehicles locked in a spar for control, but the windows held.
“Is that what you really want to be focusing on right now?” Maggie jerked the wheel into the other vehicle, to keep them from flipping. The truck was trying to guide them straight into the two up ahead.
Gotham slid across the back seat with a yip, his oversize paws attempting to grab on to anything solid. He fell behind the driver’s seat but popped his head up a moment later. Probably loving the ride.
“I’m just saying that information would’ve been good to know before I got in.” Jones braced his shoulders against the back seats and kicked at the compromised back window. The sniper bullet fell free before the window dislodged in one piece. Air rushed into the SUV as he wedged the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and took aim. Then pulled the trigger.
The bullet found its mark, taking out the back tire of the truck. The tail end swerved to one side, then caught against something on the desert floor. Shouts cut through the grind of engines as the driver of the truck failed to keep all four wheels on the ground. The truck flipped, landing with a gut-wrenching crunch. Jones unpocketed another round and loaded it into the rifle. “Anything else you think I need to know while we’re trying to stay alive?”
“I’m allergic to dairy. Is that helpful?” She whipped her head around, then grabbed for Gotham with one hand, guiding the husky into the front seat.
“Only if the cartel tries to torture you with cheese.” He leveraged the barrel of the rifle against the window frame and set his eye against the scope. “Slam on the brakes on my signal and turn right as hard as you can. Let off the accelerator at the curve, then get us up to speed when we’ve straightened out. The wheel will want to follow, but I need you to keep us steady. Understand?”
Maggie held strong, and he couldn’t do anything but admire her sense of humor in a situation like this. She wasn’t trained for evasive driving, let alone combat, but she was meeting him in the field regardless. Most civilians would’ve given up by now. But she was a fighter. “Did you miss the part where I said I’m not a good driver?”
“You’re doing just fine. Remember what I asked. I need you to trust me. This will even the odds.” Jones settled into that familiar space. The one created over years of missions and violence and death. He’d relied on it so many times to get him through whatever lay ahead. Only this time felt different. It felt more personal than ever before. The rocky landscape threatened to loosen his grip on the rifle, but he wasn’t going to let Maggie get captured again. He wasn’t going to be too late this time. He was going to get her out of this mess. “Now!”
She hit the brakes. Momentum tried to rip him free of his position as Maggie wrenched the steering wheel to the right, and the SUV swung around, putting one of the approaching vehicles dead in his sights. The engine vibrated through the entire frame as the SUV launched forward.
Jones found his mark.
And compressed the trigger.
The bullet embedded in the front fender of the truck but didn’t have any overall effect. He backed away from the scope. Damn it. He’d hit the target. It should’ve put the engine out of commission. Unless... “That truck’s armored.”
“What?” The question left Maggie’s mouth a split second before the impact.
Time seemed to speed up and slow down all at once. Maggie’s head rammed toward the steering wheel just as the airbag engulfed her. Glass and metal protested from the passenger side where Gotham had been sitting a moment before. The world barrel-rolled once. Twice. Three times. Gravity lost its hold on his body, and Jones was flung between the two back seats. Upholstery failed to cushion each blow as the SUV battled against the earth’s physics. He tried reaching for the front seat, but blood clouded his vision. He couldn’t see her. Couldn’t touch her.
In an instant, Maggie was gone.
The ground rushed up to meet the driver’s side of the SUV. The back seats pinned him in place, his feet grazing against the shattered side window and collection of artillery that’d come loose in the collision. Dust drove into his lungs as the vehicle came to a rest. Hell, his head hurt. He couldn’t think, couldn’t take a full breath. “Maggie, can you hear me?”
No answer.
The silence pressed in from every angle and shot his nerves into overdrive. He should’ve picked a bigger gun to get through the truck’s armor. Now Maggie was in danger. Because of him. Because he hadn’t been enough to protect her. Just as he hadn’t been enough to get to Kincaide before it’d been too late. That echo of grief and loss cut through him. His eyes burned. He’d given Maggie his word he wouldn’t let Sangre por Sangre get their hands on her again. How much was his word worth now?
“Gotham?” He couldn’t hear the husky through the ringing in his ears. Jones reached toward the front center console, trying to claw free of the grip the back seats had on his middle. Pain radiated through his insides, but it wasn’t enough to stop him from getting to his partner. Either of them. “You both better be alive.”
A low rumble of an engine vibrated through what was left of the SUV’s frame. Crushing realization hit him harder than the initial impact. The cartel was going to take Maggie. They were going to kill her. Because they no longer had reason to keep her alive. The SD card she’d buried had been recovered, the bodies they’d tried to hide removed from the site. He was going to lose her.
“Jones...” A section of blond hair fell from around the driver’s seat headrest. A shaking, bloodied hand pawed at the airbag, and white powder kicked up in a fresh beam of headlights. She was alive. Against all the odds, she’d survived the accident, and something he didn’t realize had been squeezing the life out of him released.
“I’m here, Maggie. I’m coming for you. Just hang on. Okay?” he said.
Voices registered from outside the vehicle. A burst of footfalls rocketed Jones’s instincts higher. Three, maybe four sources. Moving fast and coming right for them. They had mere seconds. He latched onto the two front seats and hauled the rest of his body free of the back. Black-and-white fur demanded his attention from under the passenger airbag on the floorboards. Gotham. Jones brought his oversize frame into the front and scooped the dog into his chest. Gotham’s pulse kicked against his palm. Alive.
Rock and glass peppered Maggie’s scrubs, but the only blood seemed to be coming from a laceration down her arm. Jones swept her hair out of her face to get a better view with his free hand. “Stay with me. I’m going to get you out of here.”
“It’s too late.” She lifted her injured arm and pointed out the windshield. Silhouettes paired off, growing bigger as they approached. “They’re already coming.”
The driver’s side window exploded.