Chapter 13 #2
Mateo and Donovan opened fire at the same time, sending short, rapid bursts toward the door at the end of the hall.
Their position and angle allowed them to push the men back into the room so that Williams and Smith could advance.
They emerged from the room at a crouch as bullets flew overhead, sidearms raised with Williams in the lead and Smith in the rear.
Mateo gripped Donovan’s shoulder to halt his gunfire and watched as they ducked into a door on the other side of the hall, repositioning just as more gunfire came at them.
Mateo pressed himself against the wall and waited for the shots to die down again before he picked up where he’d left off. He and Donovan took position.
“Suppressing!”
They fired off more rapid fire, and a bullet struck the crouching man, dropping him to the rug in a pool of blood. The other man disappeared back inside.
“Clear to breach. Stack and go!”
Williams and Smith reappeared with Williams taking the lead and Smith at her back. Donovan fell in behind Smith and Mateo brought up the rear. Williams fired off a shot and another body dropped.
Mateo fell back when another voice came over the line.
“Bravo-one, this is Charlie. I got eyes on a runner, just dropped out of a second-story window. Black male, white wife-beater, gold chain … heading south on foot.”
Suede. Mateo would bet his life on it.
“Donovan, you got this?”
Williams and Smith were already charging into the room, guns raised.
“Go!” Donovan urged before going after them.
Mateo holstered his sidearm and set off for the stairs. “Charlie, confirm visual.”
“Negative, Alpha-one. Lost visual.”
Mateo barreled through the foyer and out the front door, turning south. He squinted against the darkness, searching for even the slightest movement.
“Hatter, help me out here.”
“Stand by, White Rabbit. I might be able to ping his burner—"
Mateo faintly made out a shadow passing under a yellow streetlight before disappearing behind a car.
“I got him!”
He was off at a run before the words had finished falling from his mouth. Every beat of his boots over the pavement sent vibrations up his legs, each impact pushing an exhale out of his chest. By the time he reached the car, the shadow was gone, and Mateo stood at an intersection.
“Hatter!”
“Aaaaand, that burner is active! Yeah, baby! Just picked him up going southeast! Headed toward Burgundy.”
“Copy that.”
Mateo turned and took off, cutting across lawns and leaping a fence into someone’s overgrown backyard. He vaulted over another fence and found himself in a dirt-paved alley between rows of houses.
“You’re three blocks behind him. Hit that left on Dauphine.”
Mateo’s chest and throat burned, but he pushed past the pain, past the exhaustion making his limbs heavy. He veered left, dodging trash cans and abandoned furniture. By the time he hit the mouth of the alley, his lungs were on fire.
“Right, then another right. I think he’s headed toward a laundromat. Maybe has a car stashed there.”
“Oh no you don’t, motherfucker,” Mateo rasped, pushing himself so hard he started to see spots before his eyes. But then, just ahead, a dimly lit parking lot and a man rushing across it. A red sedan sat on the other end.
“Tariq Hayes!” he bellowed, throwing himself across the remaining distance. “FBI!”
Suede obviously hadn’t realized he was being tracked.
His head jerked in Mateo’s direction, and he tripped over his own two feet at the sound of his voice.
It was the miracle Mateo needed. Before Suede could regain his balance, Mateo was charging into him with the force of a linebacker, taking him down to the pavement.
Suede bucked and kicked, but Mateo’s irritation fueled his strength.
Panting and grunting, he wrestled the man into submission.
“Don’t fight me,” Mateo rasped, still struggling for breath as he used a zip-tie to secure Suede’s wrists behind his back. “You already made me run … don’t make me … shove my boot up your ass.”
Suede went still once it was clear there was no getting out of his. He turned his head to try to look at Mateo, eyes narrowed.
“Man, do you even know who you’re fucking with?”
Mateo crouched to pat him down, finding Suede’s burner phone and laying it aside, then a .
22 with an empty clip. He flipped open the phone and found dozens of calls to various numbers.
But there were multiple incoming and outgoing calls to one person.
The sequence of numbers niggled something at the back of Mateo’s mind, but the adrenaline coursing through him made it hard to think.
He made a mental note to look into it later.
“Who is R.K.? Your boyfriend?” Mateo asked, sparing Suede a derisive glance. The same initials had been written on the white board in that basement.
Suede snorted. “I ain’t got shit to say to you, pig.”
Mateo went down on his haunches, shoving the phone down into his pocket. “Oh, so you want to do this the hard way.”
Suede clenched his jaw and shook his head.
Mateo sighed. “Have it your way. Tariq Hayes, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say—”
“I asked you a question, mothfucka,” Suede spat. “I said, do you know who you’re fucking with?”
“Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney.”
Suede began to laugh, shoulders shaking. He lowered his head and began pounding it against the pavement. Mateo grasped him back the back of the neck to stop him. He pulled the man up by his scruff and looked into his dark eyes. Blood smeared Suede’s forehead from the self-inflicted abrasion.
“Oh, you are so fucking dead.”
Mateo leaned in and grinned. “If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you. Do you understand these rights as I have explained them to you, you worthless piece of shit?”
Suede sneered but nodded that he understood, and Mateo wrenched him to his feet.
“Alpha-one report.”
Williams answered him a moment later. “All clear, Bravo-one. Hostiles neutralized. Civilians evacuated.”
“Good. Send a car to the laundromat on Lee Street. I got Tariq Hayes on ice.”
“Copy. Transport on the way.”
He paced away from Suede, who still lay where Mateo had left him, hands zip-tied behind his back. Mateo paused and doubled over, still fighting for breath. Now that the adrenaline had faded, he felt everything. He felt every one of his forty-two years.
Suede laughed again, shoulders shaking as he watched Mateo straighten and then crank his neck from side to side with a groan. “Rough night?”
Mateo scowled and fought the urge to kick Suede in his vulnerable ribs. His bodycam was still on, and he was in enough trouble with Carlisle as it was.
Still, he sneered and spat on the ground near Suede’s face. “Shut the fuck up.”