Chapter 27
Twenty-Seven
Ramos took the highway back to Harlow, the speedometer on his car hovering just a few miles per hour above the limit. His thoughts refused to budge from what had just happened at Mark Farro’s arrest, more precisely Mark’s cryptic last warning, “You’re too late.”
Too late for what?
His heartbeat continued to race. The pieces of this puzzle just didn’t make any sense. His instincts told him he would have his answers when he got back to Harlow. His fear was that he approached a whole other nightmare unto itself.
This is why I avoid getting too attached…
Mark hadn’t seemed fazed with his arrest. Perhaps he was just playing it cool. A man incapable of believing anything bad could stick. But Ramos based that idea on pure assumption and had to be open to other possibilities. Like the syndicate and his connections having played him…
Or that Mark had planned on getting arrested all along.
But why?
He turned off the highway and up the hill, the engine revving against the incline and his mind sifting through what motivated a man like Mark Farro. Money and power were the obvious bet. And Ramos had spent enough time with career criminals to know most didn’t want to waste their lives hustling.
They craved something more. Something hugely elusive when it came to organized crime. Independence. Especially the cold and calculated types, like Farro. He would never settle on a lifetime stint as Rudolph Manzinni’s underling.
Ramos knew from his experience saving Dean’s ass, that leaving an organization like the syndicate wasn’t straightforward. One couldn’t simply turn in their resignation letter and leave. The only exit options were death or prison.
Oh, shit! Prison.
Was prison Mark’s plan?
Had he used his men and Ramos to get there?
Prison was a place he could shelter under the illusion that he’d taken a fall for the syndicate. He’d do his time. The syndicate wouldn’t hurt him. Tonight’s arrest would be his last grasp at freedom before he eventually moved on with his life.
Only one flaw impinged on that plan. That the syndicate would forgive Mark’s failure to take revenge on Dean, Emilia, Chip, and all of Harlow.
A sick, skittery feeling burrowed deep within his gut. Like agitated bugs crawling through his insides. The revenge piece of this puzzle perhaps wasn’t missing after all.
“You’re too late.”
Ramos pressed his foot harder to the accelerator, his nerves stripped raw from the hope he wasn’t too late for anything. But as the car climbed the hill, opaque smoke from several fires devoured the spaces in and around Harlow.
Mark hadn’t lied. Adrian was too late.
The roadblock ahead forced him to stop, the cars seeking entry into town backed up in front of him. A ragged female scream pulled at him from about six cars ahead. He rolled his window down, craning his neck for a better view.
There she stood, Laila, struggling against three officers. His heart sank at the grief written all over her face and fraught actions. He’d always thought himself a confident guy. Someone exceptionally good at what he did. But he’d fucked this up royally. Even if he’d had no idea of Mark’s plans. Even if he couldn’t be in two places at once. He’d played a role and would never forgive himself for the tragedy so quickly unfolding before him.
He launched out of his car and ran to help her, scrambling to make things right, shouting at the officers to let her go.
By now they had her pinned to her car and his shouts mingled with her wild cries. She twisted in the officer’s hold, her cheeks red and wet, and her eyes wide but swollen, as her gaze caught on his.
“Help! Help me!” Her voice tore from her on a raw scream, somehow both a demand and a plea. “They won’t let me get to Whitney!”
“Sir, step back. We have orders to stop anyone entering the valley.” An officer held his hand up, creating a barrier between Ramos and her. A barrier he refused to accept.
“Officer, the fire below is likely the work of the syndicate.” Though his warring emotions were anything but reasonable, he didn’t draw closer and kept his tone even and firm. “My name is Adrian Ramos. You can call Sheriff Marlin and verify that I am part of the investigation into the syndicate. I intend to get into that valley, and I will be taking this woman with me.”
Though the officer glared at him, not totally convinced or happy with Ramos pulling rank, all Ramos could think of was Mark’s warning. That he was too late. But even as Harlow burned, with every fiber of his being, he didn’t want to be too late. If anything happened to Whitney. All because he’d fallen into Mark’s trap.
His attention fell to Laila again, her eyes glistening, while tears streaked her face and she muttered, “She’s in there. She’s in there.”
And she was right. Whitney was in Harlow, and he didn’t have time to waste. So, he stared down the officer ahead of him, uncertain what this man would say, only that, some way, somehow, he would get past this roadblock. “I assure you, Officer. I’ll take all responsibility for what happens next.”
The officer’s expression hardened into an analytical scowl, like he didn’t want to believe Ramos or do as asked. But something in the way Ramos spoke seemed to convey the fact that he could not be stopped. That for once, following orders and taking all precautions wouldn’t apply.
The officer grumbled something under his breath and stepped back, ordering the others to do the same. Adrian jumped into Laila’s car and drove it out of the way and into an embankment. Before too long, she sat beside him in his car, and they embarked on the mad dash toward the raging fire.
Adrian’s car roared down the road and Laila’s chest heaved with a new wave of choking sobs. The air outside already thickened with smoke, mingling with the dust the car’s tires churned through the rearview mirror. Meanwhile, an eerie silence hung between them, adding to the weight of panic pressing on her chest.
Ramos also kept casting sideways glances her way. Though she appreciated him helping her get past the roadblock, she could feel him analyzing her vulnerability through every stare. She didn’t want his concern. All she wanted was to find her daughter.
Knuckles sore, she broke her tight hold on the armrest and leaned closer to the window. Deeper in the woods, plumes of curling smoke snaked through the trees, while her distorted image on the glass reflected back her tear-stained and bedraggled face.
“We’ll get to her in time.” Adrian’s voice sent cold shock through her, as did the warmth of his hand as it came to rest on hers. That touch nearly burned her skin in contrast with where her mind went.
All the things that she could have done differently.
All the things that could still go wrong.
Feeling undeserving of any comfort, she snatched her hand back. “You don’t know that for sure.”
She didn’t want any words of hollow hope.
This could get worse. This could get so, so much worse.
I could lose my daughter. Could lose Whitney.
His hand returned to the steering wheel in an act of seeming resignation, the shuttered look on his face mirroring her assessment of what went on in his head. “No, I don’t. But I promised you we'd try out darndest, remember?”
She scoffed in a broken laugh and jutted her chin to the road, new tears spilling free. “That’s my daughter down there. She dies, Ramos, then I... Failure isn’t an option.”
Though she couldn’t finish her thoughts on what she’d do if anything happened to Whitney, his silence acknowledged what she’d meant. That she didn’t want to exist in a world without Whitney. Especially if her absence coincided with her child’s moment of need.
The lower they got into the valley, the smokier it got, until flames flickered into view farther down the road.
“Seems we’ll have to improvise a way in.” Adrian’s tone sounded strong enough, but she caught the slight hesitation in his delivery. Like he too respected that fires had ways of diverting even the best plans.
A direct route to town was out of the question, so he slowed and took a counter-intuitive turn right.
She slammed her eyes shut and held back another wave of grief. “This won’t ever end, will it?”
Hope drained from her with each passing second Ramos didn’t answer. As though he didn’t need to answer because his silence said everything. A silence that spoke of uncertainty. An inescapable situation that no amount of resilience could fix because Harlow was burning. Literally burning.
That crush of reality was too much to carry and her will faded with each smoke-tinged inhalation. Even if they survived today, life would never return to what it once was. Nor would Harlow. And the syndicate might never leave them be.
She peered out her window again and did her best to stay quiet. To let Ramos focus on getting them into town. Maybe Harlow did burn, but she was also saying goodbye, while bracing herself for what the unfolding hours would bring.
Burn it all. Just let Whitney escape safe.
A single tear rolled down her cheek and a sense of apathy made the scene outside somehow tolerable. Even as the next road brought flames lapping from the adjoining field, the air dry and haunting.
Still, we aren’t all that far from town.
“Laila.” Adrian reached for her again, and in her numb state, she let him. “I know we haven’t been so close lately, but everything I do today will be about getting you and Whitney away from all this. Do you understand?”
Not wanting to speak for fear of what she’d say, she squeezed his hand, giving him the reaction he wanted. How could she explain that her trust in everything had become as charred as the fields outside? She would trust him in that she had little other choice, but nothing right now felt certain. Not even her opinions of the man beside her.
She’d seen him become someone else around Gerry Gibbons. His work had involved interacting with the syndicate. How else could she feel?
They reached two roads that led into town, one blocked off by walls of fire, the other the only viable option, though how long that would remain the case was anyone’s guess. Not long, that was for sure.
He steered down the obvious path, where a house farther across a field stood engulfed in flames, that house belonging to Emilia and Blaine. Laila’s tummy tensed at that sight. Another bad omen on her journey to get back to Whitney. As too were the emergency vehicles stationed along this road in an attempt to defend it.
Long minutes passed on that straight stretch of road until they finally reached the town’s center, rounding another street, before they came to the town hall.
The moment the car stopped, she stumbled out her door, not even waiting for him to kill the engine, as she sprinted away, her heart pounding and her tight breaths burning her chest.
Everywhere she looked, the homes and businesses she’d known since childhood smoldered in ruins. Now, all she wanted was the familiarity of having her child in her arms. Of knowing Whitney was safe. Of having some semblance of comfort and control. Along with the illusion that she’d somehow get them out of here alive.