CHAPTER 20 #2
“Stay here,” I tell her. I run to the entryway of the house, where I see a young woman with the same dark hair and striking features as Damián’s. Her hair is tied up in a bun, and she’s wearing medical scrubs. “Hi,” I say.
“Who the hell are you?”
“One of Dami’s friends. Your mom is in the back. We need to leave.”
SCREECH!
The sound of tearing rubber is so loud this time that even Fernanda flinches. Her face goes pale, but she doesn’t move. Instead, she grips my wrists with a strength that catches me completely off guard.
“My son is outside! He’s sleeping in his car seat!”
Oh, Jesus Christ…
“I’ll get him. You go to the back with your mother,” I tell her and leave without waiting for her response.
If she is anything like Damián, she would fight me over it. So instead of debating, I sprint through the front door, down the porch steps, and across the garden.
Fernanda’s blue sedan is parked right in front. Through the rear window, I can see a tiny, dark-haired boy fast asleep, his head tilted sideways against the straps of a plastic car seat.
Shit, shit…
I see the SUVs a few yards from the house, getting closer by the second… and if I can see them this clearly, I’m pretty sure they can see me too.
I dive toward the rear door of the sedan, yanking it open, and scramble into the seat. My fingers fumble, desperately fighting to unbuckle the child’s seatbelt.
I slam my thumb onto the red button, but it doesn’t budge.
What the hell?!
Who designed these things? NASA?
“Come on, you piece of… open up!” I growl, sweat dripping down my nose as I yank at the straps.
And somehow, the kid is still asleep.
Do all Sotos sleep this deeply?
I finally manage to unbuckle the monster seat, scoop the kid up, and cradle him against my chest as best I can.
CRACK!
The glass of the sedan’s rear windshield instantly shatters into a million tiny crystals, showering over my back and finally waking Carlitos up.
“Hey, hey, look at me, buddy,” I say, forcing the biggest smile I can muster as I block his view of the broken window. “Everything is totally fine! I’m Ollie, Uncle Dami’s friend. How about we play a super fun superhero game until I take you to your mom?”
“Spider-Man.”
“Yes, Spider-Man. Okay, hold tight,” I say, curling my entire body over Carlitos to create a human shield.
And I run… I run as fast as I can.
CLANG! PING! RICOCHET!
Dozens of bullets hit the metal frame of the car door, ricocheting off the asphalt and the brick wall of the house right beside us.
THWACK!
Something hard bites viciously into my upper left arm. I turn my head, horrified to see the sleeve of my shirt instantly soaking in blood. I’ve been shot.
Ignore it, Ollie.
Focus… just focus and save the kid.
I scramble back up the porch steps as bullets hit the wooden railing behind me, sending splinters flying through the air. I dive through the front door, kick it shut with my boot, and throw the deadbolt.
Carlitos is crying now, clinging to my neck like a terrified little koala. Fernanda arrives immediately, tearing the kid out of my arms and setting him on the floor.
“Go to the back with Abuela!”
The kid sprints down the hall, and Fernanda immediately grabs the edge of a massive wooden bookcase standing next to the entryway. “This thing is not bolted to the wall. Help me pull it!”
I grab one of the shelves and yank backward, biting my lower lip to keep from screaming in agony from my left arm. The super heavy bookcase comes crashing down directly in front of the door, burying the entrance under a mountain of books and splintering hardwood.
BANG! BANG!
Someone on the outside throws their full weight against the wood, but there is no way they are getting past this barricade.
“Run,” I choke out, and we both bolt toward the back of the house where María and Carlitos are waiting.
Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!
Automatic gunfire rips through the house as we burst out into the small, fenced backyard. I snatch Carlitos back from Fernanda’s arms, hoisting his weight onto my uninjured shoulder as we sprint toward the fence bordering the neighbor’s property.
I vault over a stack of wooden pallets, reach back to pull María over, and then help Fernanda swing her legs across just as a round of bullets hit the trees behind us.
Once our feet hit the ground on the other side, I tuck Carlitos securely against my right side, and we run.
We run for our lives, cutting through a maze of suburban back gardens, leaping over flowerbeds, dodging patio furniture, and crashing through thick hedges.
I can feel my body completely giving up. I am exhausted, in agonizing pain, and losing blood fast. But I can’t stop running, because no matter where we go, where we turn, or what we climb, Rafael’s men are trailing right behind us.
Please, God. Please let me save them, I pray, fighting back tears.
Please let Dami’s family be okay.
My left arm is completely numb now, dark blood dripping down my fingers and leaving a trail wherever we step. I can see that María is starting to lose her balance, and Fernanda’s breath is coming in ragged gasps.
We can’t keep running like this forever.
We need a car.
“Are there any stores, restaurants, or bars near here?” I ask between breaths.
Fernanda points to the left. “There’s a commercial strip one block away.”
“Take me there.”
Fernanda guides us to a commercial avenue lined with shops and outdoor cafes. Because it’s so late, ninety percent of the street is empty, but down the block, there is a seafood restaurant hosting a private party.
I see a young valet guy hopping into a sports car and driving off to park it, leaving the box of keys open and completely unattended.
“This way,” I yell, ushering the family toward the parking lot.
I sprint up to the valet podium, my eyes searching the rows for the most boring keys, since those models won’t have GPS to track us.
Bingo!
I grab the key to an old Honda Civic and start clicking the unlock button as we move through the rows of parked cars.
Click…
Come on…
Click…
Click…
BEEP! BEEP!
I turn and see an old red Honda Civic flashing its lights.
Got you.
We scramble into the car. Fernanda and Carlitos get into the back seat, while María dives into the front passenger seat.
“They are close, so lower your bodies as much as you can,” I tell them, my hands shaking uncontrollably against the steering wheel as I look into the rearview mirror.
I shift the car into drive, slowly easing out of the parking space, trying with everything I have to look like just another random dude exiting a restaurant.
We are halfway to the exit lane when a tattooed man steps right into the middle of the driveway, his eyes locking onto mine. I see the moment he recognizes me. His face twists into a snarl, and he raises his pistol, aiming it straight through the glass.
No… Not happening.
“Hold on!” I scream, and I slam my foot all the way down onto the gas pedal.
CLANK!
CLASH!
Bullets hit the car and tear through the upper corner of the windshield, showering glass over the dashboard.
The car hits the man at twenty miles per hour. His body flies into the air, landing on the hood, before rolling over the roof and crashing to the asphalt behind us.
I twist the steering wheel, tearing out of the parking lot and blowing right through a red light, finally leaving Rafael’s men far behind us.
We drive in silence for three full blocks before I can finally find my voice.
“Is everyone safe?” I ask, my eyes darting between the shattered windshield and the mirrors.
“Yes.” María sits straight and buckles up.
“We’re okay, we’re okay,” Fernanda repeats from the back, her arms wrapped around Carlitos.
“Is anyone hurt or in pain?”
“No, no one is hurt here, but…” María reaches across the center console, her hands hovering over my left arm. “Oliver, you’ve been shot.”
“Ah, that? Yeah, that happened when I went out for Carlitos.”
“Since then? You gotta be fucking kidding me,” Fernanda grunts, and I try not to laugh at how much she reacts like her brother.
She rips a thick section of fabric from the hem of her scrubs, reaches up, and wraps the fabric tightly around my upper bicep.
“Hold still. This is going to hurt, but we need to stop the blood flow.”
Sweet mother of—
Arrgggg!
I grunt, grinding my teeth together as Fernanda tightens the knot.
Once she is done with her damn medieval torture, I reach into my pocket, pull out the emergency Burst, and pass it to María.
“Press the red button on the side,” I instruct her. “Hold it down and send a voice note to Alexios. Tell him we are all okay, we are together, and ask him where we need to go.”
And I really, really want to tell her to ask Alexios if they found Damián, but I don’t want his family to hear he’s missing or think something happened to him…
So I don’t.
María does exactly what I tell her, and luckily, it takes less than a minute for the Burst to vibrate with Alexios’s response.
“We have an address,” María says. “Greenwood 24.”
“Perfect.”
“Oliver, you need to find a place to stop right now,” Fernanda insists, her hand pressing firmly against the bleeding fabric on my arm. “You can go into hemorrhagic shock if we don’t get this wound properly cleaned and cauterized within the hour.”
“Thanks, but I will stop and take care of my wound once you are completely safe.”
Fernanda bursts out laughing. “You sound just like Damián.”
And with those words, my heart feels both full and terrified, hoping that wherever he is, Damián is alive and safe.