17. Los Angeles #2
No longer did I resemble an ex-operator.
The Marines spent upward of $500,000 to a million dollars to train a Marine Raider—from basic recruit training to infantry, advanced Assessment and Selections, and Individual Training Courses.
I should’ve been able to respond without the slightest twitch of muscle.
Keep a neutral expression. Acknowledge the uncomfortable topic right away.
I stumbled instead. The weird boy who got tossed in lockers and got the snot beaten out of him in high school.
As I steered from the parallel parking spot, I passed a swap meet with artificial Christmas trees on display. Then I thanked God this conversation was?—
“Do you mind if I ask you something?” Jordyn inquired, her voice soft with curiosity .
Uh-oh . From my peripheral, Jordyn had turned in her seat until her knee edged against the center divider while I squeezed through an almost red light to buy myself some time. “I’m an open book.”
“You told your parents about me, right, Jamie?” Her voice was hollow, hardly a whisper. “How did they respond?”
My stomach churned with the nauseating realization that her question was a thinly veiled demand for affirmation.
Yes, I told them about you. What do you take me for? But I couldn’t say that. Not even to bring her peace. I’d almost slipped when I’d told Jordyn about the girl in the cage.
It wasn’t the world I saved, but another little girl in a cage. She… ahem … reminded me of you.
Truth? The kid reminded me of Devi.
In a twisted tangle of events, I’d had the same dream since I was a kid.
First, I cowered in that cage.
After I met Willow as a teen, the nightmares shifted—she sat trapped inside all alone.
Later, it was Devi. After she died, my mind twisted itself into believing it had always been a younger version of her.
And then, real life tripped my brain out. I’d tracked through that compound with my M1 Carbine—and saw her. A little girl. In an actual cage. That image wrecked me for about a week. The same reoccurring dream of little Devi. Until she transformed into … Jordyn.
If my mind were a grave, I’d buried her almost six feet. Just an inch shy because she was always in the back of my thoughts. The adrenaline in the Marines, happy pills, none of it fully dulled the hurt. Even when I forgot why the pain felt so raw, my soul remembered.
Went to the Colonel the same day. I needed to retire.
But how the hell was I supposed to work that —what was it, dissociative amnesia?—into an apology? I slowed for a homeless person jaywalking across the road.
“Did your parents say why they didn’t rescue me or the other children? I know the answer won’t change the past. It’ll help me … forgive them.”
“Jordyn …” I turned into a stuttering mess. That same sorry excuse for a teenager who got stuffed in the locker when Camdyn ditched school. “I, uh, I forgot about you.” My gaze flitted from the windshield. As if that was necessary.
“Forgot?” Jordyn whispered, arms wrapped around herself. Her brown eyes were moist with unfallen tears.
The one word echoed in my ear— forgot . Felt like a sucker punch.
I deserved it, though. “I don’t know how it happened.
” At this point, I just let it all out. My words were as stiff as my walk down the halls of the schools in Long Beach, California.
As I drove down Caesar Chavez, I brought up Devi and Tatum and the reason I almost took my life nearly a decade ago when that prostitute died.
“It was as if my brain tried to right itself and erase some of the worst moments, only leaving me with that very first day of my abduction.” Even as I took on the clinical tone of a therapist, I felt like a numpty nugget . “I?—”
“It’s okay. We all cope how we can. When I used to lie on my back, I allowed my mind to wander too. Used to be sparkly unicorns and Barbie dream houses. Then it was couture gowns and red bottoms.”
Her hand dropped on my forearm, and the touch gave me the courage to be brave.
“No, it’s not okay, Jordyn. I want to explain.
I’m gonna exp—” I glanced through the rearview mirror to figure out where I should stop, and my entire body went into fight mode.
Cop cars. And their positioning. One. Two.
Three cruisers. And an SUV. Fanned out wide. A net ready to capture.
A flash of red and blue lights hit the rearview mirror.
BLURP . Sirens rent the air. Rebel struggled to bark, and I didn’t get the chance to tell Jordyn about the day Nolan McGregor saved me. That day was so hazy. It made less sense than the loud boom of a female LAPD officer’s voice on the loudspeaker. “Pull over, now!”
Ruff . Ruff !
“Rebel,” I snapped.
“What did we do? You’re not even driving the speed limit,” Jordyn said.
“Nothing. I have a bad feeling about this. No sudden moves.” I pulled to the curb in front of a Taco Bell, slow and steady. Hands on the wheel. Engine idling low. Amid the commotion, teens exiting the fast-food restaurant pulled out their phones to record.
Good .
At my side, Jordyn’s eyes went round. “The backpack. We-we have guns in the backpack.”
“I didn’t forg?—”
The woman on the loudspeaker barked. “Driver! Turn off the engine. Throw the keys out the window.”
Crap . This was the basic protocol for a stolen vehicle. I killed the engine, tossing the keys onto the asphalt. In the mirror, officers were already crouched behind the open doors of their vehicles, weapons drawn. Yep . Stolen vehicle protocol .
Way too aggressive. Something was seriously wrong.
“Driver, exit the vehicle. Hands up!”
I moved slowly with purpose. Every muscle screamed , I’m not a threat . Hands held high, I stepped out into the sunlight. All was dead silent except for a dog barking somewhere nearby and the murmur of people who had their phones out.
Six guns trained on me. I’d been in this predicament before but didn’t have a PID, not with the fine cops standing before me.
At least, I distinguished what others might overlook.
The twitchy blond cop to the left. An auburn officer drumming the fingers of one hand against his leg.
A calm Black officer stood behind him, and farther out, stood a heavyset officer who stayed behind the door of his vehicle.
The glint of a rifle muzzle rested atop the cruiser door.
“Turn around, walk backward.” The second I complied, the officer ordered, “Passenger, exit the vehicle, hands up!”
I shot back. “She’s afraid, office?—”
“Passenger, exit the vehicle now!”
I turned my head and glanced at the badge of the officer nearest me. Walsh. “Talk to your team! Let them know I’m fully prepared to comply with?—”
“Turn back around,” he ordered. “Get on the ground!”
As the female officer issued another command to Jordyn over the loudspeaker, I dropped a knee, prepared to go full prone and eat cement. I just needed them to understand that if I complied and did everything they asked, they could look at my registration and confirm this was a mix-up.
But just as my second knee touched the ground, I heard a familiar click. A tiny sound. Lost to most ears.
Not mine.
Walsh had disengaged the safety of his Glock behind me.
Yeah, Walsh—had to be him. But why would he shoot me? Was he the same cop who falsely reported my Gladiator stolen? Crooked. Paid off by Aleksandr Chelomey? Didn’t matter, I needed to kill this problem quickly.
My mind went clear. Except for the calculations spinning fast.
As Walsh approached, the service weapon drawn, he removed cuffs—as if that was his intent. No. He didn’t need those cuffs. Didn’t want me alive. I waited for a tell.
Walsh yelled, “Suspect going for?—”
That was it. That crooked cop . I knew he’d call out a lie, then shoot.
I shifted sideways just as the gun exploded in his hand.
I caught the officer’s wrists as the bullet the liar intended to shoot me in the back of the head with went wide.
In one fluid motion, I removed the gun from his hand, twisted his arm behind him, and pivoted around him to shield myself from possible incoming fire.
“Why did you try to shoot me, Officer Walsh?” The cop yelped when I applied more pressure to his arm. “Tell them who you work for. Tell them that this is not a misunderstanding. That this was a perfectly crafted execution attempt.”
“You on drugs?” The police officer scoffed, the vein in his neck on a rampage. His voice dropped, “That’s what I?—”
“Tell the truth,” I shouted.
“Don’t move!” Another officer hollered.
My eyes snapped to the Black man, whose presence and demeanor seemed the most stable.
Why was he just a uniformed cop? Maybe ex-military too?
I said, “I’m a vet, Corporal Jamie Mack.
Trust me, brother.” Though the man’s head tilted at the term, I could tell I’d gotten through to him.
“I want us all to go home today, unharmed. So, let’s figure this out.
And it starts with Officer Walsh. Again, I ask, why did you claim I was going for a weapon when I had complied all along? ”
The Black cop shifted forward. “Nice to meet you, Corporal Mack. I’m Officer Brown.
I was in the Army in my heyday, Grenadier Company.
And I’m glad we see eye to eye on how we want things to go down.
” Another step. “Unfortunately, I didn’t see what happened before Walsh made his assessment.
We do, however, have uniform cams that can clear this up.
We can handle the issue of the stolen vehic?—”
“Not stolen!” I barked. Drat . I’d already compressed my anger; no need to launch back to 100. Still, I disapproved of people who evaded rules. Especially those in certain positions. I shouted out my license plate number and apologized for only knowing the last five of my VIN.
As Brown turned to order the officer closest to their vehicle to confirm what I’d just said, Walsh tried to pull away .
“Brown doesn’t outrank me,” Walsh spat. “Someone shoot this maniac.”
I gave his arm another squeeze. “Tell them! You lied about my car being stolen.” I looped an arm around his neck. “Aleksandr Chelomey told you to screw me over, huh?”
A questioning look passed over Walsh’s face as Brown lifted a hand. “Okay, okay. Let’s scale back.”
“No,” I said. “Tell your fellow officers who you work for, Walsh!”
Walsh freed his elbow. When it flew forward for momentum, I shoved him away from me and toward Brown. The men went stumbling into each other.
Two seconds of chaos. Enough.
I expected to hear the crackle of gunfire, but clearly, that snake, Walsh, didn’t want to break protocol while his peers looked on.
Police could only shoot a fleeing suspect who posed an immediate threat.
I prayed Brown drilled it into the others that I wasn’t a threat at all as I sprinted back to my truck.
I reached down to grab the keys and closed myself in the vehicle.
Tears streamed down Jordyn’s face. “I thought they’d hur-hurt you.”
“I know, JorJor, I’m fine.” The Gladiator roared to life, the wheel rumbling beneath my palms. The engine gave a deep growl as I gunned the gas pedal.
I slammed the truck over a shopping cart and tore past an abandoned hatchback.
Sirens screamed behind me. All units tried to keep up after returning to their vehicles.
I twisted into a U-turn on the wide boulevard.
The Gladiator leaped over the center divider, tires screaming as they hit asphalt.