Chapter Fifteen
RAVEN
I watched Miguel drinking his coffee as he spoke to Damon, Cassidy, and Mike. I was worried about him, not knowing how far I should push him. As much as I knew he needed more rest, I knew pressing him to go back to the hotel under FBI guard, was going to make him dig his stubborn heels in. Despite how he was feeling, he wanted to be part of what was happening, part of the team going into Oscar Castillo’s house to retrieve Tawny, Trevor, Brian, and even Aston, whom I hated.
I also knew Alex Filmore was in there with Castillo’s men, and he was a trained CIA operative who knew a hell of a lot of tricks of his own, possibly even torture. If Filmore knew he was close to being arrested and becoming a guest of some CIA black site hellhole the way his friends Rosina Cassanova, Lance Bishop, and John Mendez were, he was going to fight and fight hard.
As Lincoln joined them, I walked over to Miguel. He smiled as soon as he noticed me and slipped his arm around my shoulders, pulling me up against him and kissing the side of my head. I felt a brief smile there and turned to face him. “What’s happening?”
“The FBI is going to put you both on our plane to Grand Cayman in about two hours,” Lincoln said. “Is there anything you need from the hotel? If so, we need to go now.”
I blinked. “You’re letting us go with you?”
“Don’t you want to come?” Miguel asked, frowning at me. “Because I’d just as soon have you here where you’ll be safe until we’re ready to leave for the airport.”
I frowned, pulling away to give him my best glare. His arm dropped. “Are you serious? Of course, I want to go if you’re going…pigheaded twat!”
Mike and Cassidy chuckled as Lincoln smiled.
“I’m going, Raven. I need my passport, clothes, and pills…and I need my weapon, which in case you haven’t noticed, I don’t have. Trust me when I tell you, I’ll sleep on the plane.” He reached up and massaged his temple. “I just had no idea we were going…and so soon.”
“It’s gonna be a ten-hour flight because we have a stopover in Houston to pick up a specialized tac team made up of all former Spec. Ops soldiers and Marines,” Lincoln said, glancing at Mac who sat at a desk about twenty feet away. He had a phone receiver pressed to his ear and was writing something on a pad of paper. Lincoln nodded in his partner’s direction. “Mac has worked with their team before. He says they’re the best and that’s what we’ll need.”
I nodded, impressed. I loved that idea. “Well, I suppose if Miguel is insistent upon joining the rest of you trained Super soldiers, then being surrounded by a highly trained Special Ops team is best.”
Lincoln reached out and patted me on the shoulder. “Miguel will be fine. I already know he has the best training the Marine Corps offers and worked Recon for years in theater. The only reason he has a concussion is because of a guy who works for the FBI. Trust me, he’ll be safe surrounded by all that talent. Have a little faith.”
“I do, Lincoln. I just don’t have any faith in other people,” I said.
“You have faith in me and Mac over there.” Cassidy nodded in McCallahan’s direction. “And by the way, the title of Super soldier is fine for Mac, but you can call me Super SEAL, okay?”
I chuckled and smiled at my friend. When I turned to Miguel, he had a teasing glint in his eye and a single eyebrow was raised. “What?”
“You do know that calling a Marine a ‘soldier’ is a massive no-no, right? Soldiers are in the Army.”
I patted his arm. “Yes, doofus. You’ve told me a million times. Sorry. I certainly didn’t mean to lump you into that category. I’ll just call you Super Jarhead. How’s that?”
Cassidy burst out laughing as Miguel’s expression morphed. He looked like he’d just bitten into a lemon which made me laugh.
“Anyway, Mike and I will meet you at the airport,” Cassidy said.
I looked at Mike. “You’re going too?”
“If my partner’s going, I’m going. The LAPD is just gonna have to do without my fine self for a few days.”
I smiled at the older man.
“Okay, then we gotta get you to the hotel. Come on, guys,” Lincoln said.
I nodded and took Miguel’s hand as we walked out of the bullpen with Lincoln, and Damon. Stopping at the elevators, Lincoln pushed the button, and we waited in silence. We all turned when the office door opened and Mac jogged up to us. “Sorry.”
“The guys are waiting for us?”
Mac nodded. “Yeah, all twelve will be waiting. How about satellite?”
“I talked to Mark,” Damon replied. “He’ll have SAT images for us by the time we get to Houston. That should give us the positioning of any other outbuildings on the property. I’m guessing that the place isn’t only a house but also has barracks separate from the main structure, along with other guesthouses and the like. We should have as many as thirty guys and DEA is bringing another thirty. How about Jarrett?”
“He and Sarah are meeting us in Houston,” Lincoln said.
“Thayne?”
“He’s in Arizona. He wanted to come but his auntie is down there, and she asked him for help on the ranch she used to own out there. The Native American tribe that borders the land wants a long-term lease on part of it near the main road to expand their reservation’s trading post. The new owner is willing but there’s some kind of negotiation that has to go on between the tribe, private property, the state of Arizona, and the Federal government who granted them the reservation lands to begin with. They’re meeting with lawyers to help smooth things over and I guess his aunt dug up documents pertinent to the property which aren’t on file with the city. Thayne went to help things go smoothly and be supportive of his aunt and the current owner of the ranch.”
“That sounds incredibly complicated,” Miguel said as the elevator car doors opened.
“Anything pertaining to reservation lands, private property, and the Federal government is complicated, even if it’s friendly and all parties agree,” Lincoln said as we all got into the elevator, punching the button for the parking garage.
“How long will you be at the hotel?” he asked. “We should be at LAX in an hour.”
“Not long,” I said. “I just need to pack us an overnight bag and Miguel needs his medication.”
“What medication?” Mac asked.
“Nothing with any opiates, McCallahan,” Miguel replied as we descended. “Trust me, I need to be in top form.”
“That’s good,” Lincoln said. “You’ll have four or five hours to sleep on the way to Grand Cayman and you can always catch a few winks on the plane. Do you sleep well on planes?”
“Fuck yes, unless it’s a C-130 and I’m strapped into a seat. I once spent fourteen hours staring down the muzzle of a tank…while experiencing turbulence. That was fun,” Miguel said as Mac chuckled. He lifted his massive paw and the two high-fived.
“Been there. Done that,” the big man said.
“Where the fuck were you headed?” Miguel grimaced, and I sighed. “Can’t tell me. Never mind.”
“Sorry, Sunshine.”
“I thought C-130s were for transporting military personnel…not tanks,” I said. He gave me another look. “Never mind.”
Mac laughed.
The elevator stopped and we stepped out to be met by four FBI agents in tac gear.
“This way, sirs,” one of them said, shaking Lincoln’s hand.
“Thanks, Martin.”
The six of us climbed into an SUV and I noted a second SUV following as our driver, Special Agent Martin Humphries, drove us out of the underground parking lot. Lincoln sat in the front seat and we were all in the back. We pulled out onto Olympic and almost immediately got into the far right lane where Humphries accelerated up the 405 Freeway on-ramp.
“We should be at the hotel in approximately ten minutes, sir,” Humphries said.
“Good man. Just get us there in one piece, Agent.”
“Will do, sir.”
“How long have you been on the job, Humphries?” Lincoln asked. “I don’t remember seeing you around the office until last week.”
“Just six months, sir. I graduated from the academy in November, spent a few months in Quantico, and then took a week off for bereavement, before transferring here.”
“Sorry to hear that, Humphries,” Lincoln said.
“It was my grandmother, sir. She lived in Atlanta. We were very close.”
Lincoln reached over and patted the much younger man on the shoulder. “I’m so sorry to hear that. It must be hard.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
I smiled at the conversation. I loved my own nana, so I could relate to his grief. Nana was so ill. I couldn’t let her go just yet. Knowing that the time was going to come much sooner than I hoped, wasn’t sitting well with me.
Humphries looked in the rearview mirror, signaled, and pulled into the next lane over, braking as a car ahead of us slowed down. I twisted to look over my shoulder and noted the other black FBI issued vehicle following close behind, keeping up. When I turned back around, Miguel was looking at me.
“What is it?”
I settled back in the seat, Mac and Damon were engaged in a conversation about who would be meeting us at the airport or some such thing. I wasn’t really paying attention. I smiled at Miguel, squeezing his hand.
“Nothing, babe. Just checking to see where the other FBI vehicle is. Nothing to worry about.”
“You nervous about something?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. How’s your headache?” He looked like hell with dark circles under his eyes and a wicked bruise on his forehead. I really hated that the FBI and apparently every other letter agency in the Federal government just expected him to help them catch or kill a bunch of murdering scumbags. The thought of him going into Castillo’s house with all those armed guards made me sick to my stomach.
“My head is fine.” He squeezed my hand. I looked down, noting his long fingers curled around mine where our hands rested entwined on his left thigh. I promised myself that someday soon, I was going to put a ring on that hand. I lifted his hand and brought it to my lips, then kissed it as I gazed into his beautiful, dark brown eyes.
“I love you,” I told him, thoroughly enjoying the way he smiled at me. I dropped my gaze to his lips, then leaned forward, kissing him softly. When we were suddenly wrenched apart as the car swerved without warning, I let out a gasp. Humphries instantly corrected and accelerated.
“What’s going on?” Mac asked.
“Two cars coming up fast on either side of our trail car!” SA Humphries’ raised voice made the hairs on the back of my neck stand straight up. We all immediately turned to look behind us, and I recognized the problem as two black cars came into view. Humphries was right. They were accelerating at a high rate of speed, coming up aggressively alongside the trail SUV following right behind us. Humphries floored the accelerator, throwing us back in our seats. I couldn’t see the drivers of either car but the moment their windows rolled down and gun muzzles poked out, I knew we were completely fucked.
A second later, they opened fire on the FBI vehicle from both sides, peppering it with a hail of bullets, blowing out the windows. The car lurched to the side as the windshield was sprayed with blood from the inside. The poor guys didn’t stand a chance. No time to even draw their weapons.
The ill-fated car with the agents inside cut across lanes as the attack vehicle in their path fell back. It crashed into the center median and flipped, landing on its roof as other cars already swerved, brakes screeching and crashing into each other behind us.
My ears were buzzing as my heart raced. Distantly, I heard Snow screaming into the phone, calling for backup. I knew it would take time to get anyone here. We were fucked, unless Humphries could somehow outmaneuver two smaller, faster cars.
“Where’d they come from?” I screamed. “How’d they know?”
Miguel looked at me despairingly, shaking his head. “They must’ve followed us from the Federal Building.”
I dragged my gaze away from his to Damon and Mac who sat in the row in front of us. “What do we do?”
Mac looked grim. “The only thing we can do…try and outpace them until backup arrives.” He scooted up so he could put a hand on Humphries’ shoulder as Lincoln continued to talk into the phone, rattling off our current location and the dire situation. Mac said something into Humphries ear, and I watched the man give him a vigorous nod. He said something back to Mac who squeezed his shoulder again.
“Yes, sir!”
Mac sat back. “I told him to drive as fast as he can. He’s already doing ninety. And to try and keep cars between us, whatever he does.”
“Who’s Lincoln calling?” Miguel asked.
“I’m scrambling an FBI chopper. ETA, seven minutes. Humphries is just going to have to keep well ahead of them until then,” said Lincoln tersely.
Seven minutes might just as well have been seventy minutes.
They weren’t going to make it here on time. What the fuck! Everyone probably knew the chance of a good outcome was bleak. All I could do was pray that Humphries had taken driving lessons from a NASCAR racer.
Farther back, the strobing lights of probably CHP vehicles were moving up but they were still some distance away. Humphries surprised me, the SUV must have been going well over a hundred miles an hour as he wove expertly between cars, siren, lights, and all. Sometimes I was sure the car was up on two wheels. All I could do was pray we didn’t hit a snarl in traffic that slowed us down or even stopped, allowing the killers to catch up with us. Five minutes passed as my heart nearly beat out of my chest. Breathing hard, I struggled to keep from hyperventilating, a nearly Herculean feat.
I kept one hand on my window’s grab bar and the other clutching Miguel’s hand in a punishing death grip as we swerved back and forth across the freeway. Miraculously, Humphries was able to keep at least one car between us and certain death behind us. Only Humphries kept his eyes on the road. The rest of us were twisted in our seats, looking out the back window, catching periodic glimpses of the two cars chasing us.
When the sound of a chopper coming in fast from behind us, finally penetrated my consciousness, I felt my heart leap into my throat. I looked forward, as we passed an on-ramp and blessedly, there were six black and white cop cars barreling up it, lights flashing, sirens wailing. The cavalry had arrived.
How they were planning on stopping the cars behind us, and how the FBI chopper would aid that, I still wasn’t clear on. I just knew we had help in overwhelming numbers and that the police were armed, no doubt ready, willing, and able to stand in the breach for us. I looked at Miguel as two of the units slid into the lane in front of us, while two others slid in directly behind us, forming a further barrier between the killers and us.
The two remaining units were joined by two more, taking up positions in front and in back of the two black vehicles and their occupants who’d not only murdered four FBI agents, but were also trying to kill us. The FBI chopper hovered over our car, and the revelation that they were providing the cars on the ground with all the information they needed to catch the bastards, finally sank in. As the four cop cars surrounding the murderers slowly brought the killers to a stop, I prayed for the officers inside, hoping against all hope that they wouldn’t get shot as they attempted to get the cartel hit squad to surrender.
I transferred my gaze to Miguel whose head lolled back against the headrest, now that the threat had passed. His eyes were tightly closed and all I could do was thank God that we’d quite literally escaped death by a thousand tiny projectiles. I let the fear and panic which had gripped me for nearly ten minutes bleed slowly away.
Miguel opened his eyes, looked at me, and then craned his head around to take in the scene behind us. We were now far enough away, still being escorted by the heroic LAPD, that whatever was happening back there, was no longer visible. The cop car in front of us signaled and we followed him and his companion car into the next lane and then the far right lane. We took the very first exit off the freeway and came to a stop at a light at the bottom of the off-ramp. Lincoln’s hand stole across the gap between the front and passenger seat, and I watched him squeeze the back of Humphries’ neck. The man turned to Lincoln and smiled.
“Well done, Martin. You alone saved our lives,” Lincoln praised. “The next time I want to bet on who’s going to win at Daytona, I’m entering you.”
That brought a chuckle as the man reached up and scrubbed a big hand over his face.
“Seriously, though, I’m going to see to it that you get recognized for being cool under the most dreadful of circumstances. That was some driving, kid.”
“Thank you, sir,” Humphries said.
“Hear, hear!” Damon said, reaching forward and thumping him on the shoulder.
“Snow’s right, Humphries. You saved all our lives,” Mac added. “Great job.”
“That goes for me and Miguel too,” I said. “We would have been dead back there if you hadn’t kept going.”
“Yes,” Miguel added. “Thank you for saving our lives, Humphries.”
“Thank you, sirs.” The young man preened under the well-deserved praise. The pride and relief in the new agent’s voice was palpable.
We pulled into the nearest gas station and Miguel and I waited while Lincoln and Mac got out to speak to the officers. They talked for several minutes while the two of us waited inside the car with Humphries and Damon. Lincoln pulled out his phone to make a call, eventually passing the phone over to one of the officers. He spoke for a minute before giving it back to Snow and getting into his own car.
When Lincoln and Mac finally got back into our car, Lincoln told Humphries to head back toward the hotel. I knew we’d long passed by the exit we should have taken since the chase had lasted what felt like a nightmare eternity. Lincoln turned around.
“They wanted to take us all to the station to give a statement and I had to call SAC Bradley when they were insistent.”
“And now?”
Lincoln smiled. “Now they’re going to escort us to the hotel, and from there, go with us to the airport as an added layer of security. It seems Bradley got their captain on the line, and explained that not only was the FBI taking the lead on this case, but they’d expect the LAPD’s full cooperation with the Bureau in this matter. Apparently, Donovan Bradley has a good reputation with the captain and since he’d approved Mike and Cassidy’s trip to the Caymans, he was already briefed in the urgency of the matter.”
I exchanged a look with Miguel who smiled back at me. “Do you think four cop cars is going to be enough security?” I asked Snow.
“We’ll have those guys, just to make sure we get there without being followed,” Lincoln said, pointing up. I leaned close to the window and realized the chopper was still overhead. I breathed out a sigh of relief. “Once we get to the hotel, there will be three more FBI units waiting to go with us. We should have doubled our protection as we left the Federal Building. Bradley is responsible for letting us go without an adequate escort but ultimately, I take responsibility for this mess. I should have anticipated something. Good agents with families died today.”
“You couldn’t have known, Lincoln,” Mac said, defending his friend. “Don’t beat yourself up over this.”
“Anyway…” Lincoln sighed. “There’s no way the FBI is going to let them get another shot at any of us again.”
We got to the hotel twenty minutes later and I quickly packed a bag, shoving clothes and running shoes along with our passports into a single duffel. Miguel made me put on my shoulder holster as he donned his own, before we headed out. The drive to LAX took a half hour more, but it wasn’t until I was actually seated on the nearly empty FBI plane forty minutes later that I finally breathed a sigh of relief and started to shake as the last of the adrenaline ebbed away.