26. Ace
ACE
I have two objectives: keep Camile safe and kill Hector.
Actually, scratch that, I have three. Add ‘don’t get shot’ to that list.
Hector has dived behind one of his own vehicles and is being covered by his men. I exchange a look with Rook, and we both nod. We can’t let Hector get away.
I slam my hand against the side of the vehicle containing Camile and shout to Zoo. “Get her the fuck out of here.”
“No!” she yells back. “Not until Hector is dead.”
I growl. “For fuck’s sake, Princess.”
“Show me Hector’s body first.”
Fucking hell, I love the woman, but is she trying to get us killed? Her being here is a distraction from what I need to do. For the first time, I’m truly pissed at her, and I’ll be having words with her when we get back to the compound.
I drag my focus from her and make myself take in what’s going on around me. From the other side of the airstrip, men are running toward us. It takes me a moment to make out their cuts and jeans and figure out that they belong to us. I hope they’ve taken down a few of Hector’s men on the way.
Jarrod staggers to his feet, stumbling around like a newborn foal, and I watch in fascination as two bullets hit him. One in his side, and one in his leg. He screams and goes right back down again. The fool should have stayed down. Then he wouldn’t have been hit.
Hector is still hiding like the coward he is, with his men protecting him, and more shots are fired, sending our guys ducking for cover and returning fire.
There’s movement to the right of the vehicle, and I squint.
Is that Hector? Yeah, only that fucker is out here wearing a suit.
The cowardly piece of shit is running into the hangar.
Crap. He’s going to have more cover there.
I try to figure out how we can best go after him, but he has his remaining men between us and the structure, so we can’t get past them.
It occurs to me that he’s deliberately set the airstrip up to make a quick escape if needed.
The men from our club reach me, panting and out of breath from their race across the strip. Big Mike nods at me.
“Took a lot of them out,” he confirms.
We left Saul and about ten other men back at the compound, guarding the club.
Everyone else, we brought with us, and I’m glad we planned for enough men to handle whatever Hector had to throw our way.
Saul was pissed about staying behind, but he agreed it was for the best. We already have our president in the hospital; we don’t need the VP getting shot, too. It would leave the club in a real mess.
From inside the hangar comes the roar of an engine even louder than that of our motorcycles.
I glance to Rook. “The plane. Fuck. He’s managed to get to his plane.”
No, this cannot be happening. We didn’t come all this way only for Hector to fly merrily on his way back to Mexico.
I picture the future, one where Camile is constantly worried for her safety, for her family’s, and for ours as well.
She’ll never be able to relax or get on with her life if this man is still living.
One of Hector’s men springs out from the back of the vehicle he’s taken shelter behind and runs for the hangar, seemingly desperate not to be left behind. I aim and squeeze the trigger, and he staggers two steps before landing flat on his face and remaining there, unmoving.
A small plane bursts from the open end of the hangar and is quickly on the runway.
Ghost has picked up the gun he kicked out of Hector’s hand, but strangely, he does nothing. Is he in shock?
Urgency rears up inside me. “We’re going to lose the fucker!”
But Ghost shakes his head. “No, we’re not.”
Another thought occurs to me.
Fuck, does Hector have Shelley’s sister with him on that plane?
If he lets her live, what will her life become?
She’ll be sold into the sex trade, most likely, or perhaps Hector will keep her for himself.
Either way, it’ll be a life she won’t want to live, and we’ll have to tell Shelley that we were unable to keep our promise and bring Megan back to her safely.
I know there’s no way I’ll catch up with the plane on foot, so I run to my bike and jump on, kicking it to life. Rook and Phoenix follow my lead.
With most of Hector’s men dealt with, we give chase to the plane, firing at it as we go. The few of Hector’s men who are left must still be in hiding and seem to have decided they aren’t ready to die today for their leader. Not when he’s about to leave them behind.
“Take out the wheels,” I shout to Rook.
On the bikes, we’re making good progress, closing the gap between us and the plane.
Everything is noise and wind and speed. But none of our bullets seem to make any difference, and the plane picks up acceleration, going faster and faster down the runway.
I can’t believe this fucker is getting away, after everything.
We should have put a bullet in his head the moment we saw him.
The nose lifts and the front wheel leaves the asphalt. A moment later, so do the rear wheels and the plane takes off, climbing into the air.
I slam my breaks on and roar my frustration. Fuuccck. How did we screw this up so badly?
Hector is heading back to Mexico, and Camile will never be free of him. Neither will we.
We pause, still straddling our idling bikes, watching the lights climb into the sky.
Then they flicker, on and off. The plane seems to be losing altitude, or at least no longer climbing so steeply. Is that normal so soon during a takeoff? I know nothing about planes. I prefer to keep both of my wheels firmly on the ground.
I frown. What’s going on?
The lights flicker on again, then blink out, leaving velvet darkness behind. The night reclaims the sky and the lights don’t reappear. Is the plane in trouble?
Ghost. He had something to do with this.
I glance back at him, still standing by the SUV, and even from this distance, I see him shrug.
I look back to the sky, trying to spot the plane.
Now its lights are out. I think I’ve lost it, but then a different kind of light appears.
Golden, bright, and almost blinding. I blink against the brightness in confusion. What the fuck is happening?
I suddenly understand.
The deep sonic boom of an explosion rocks the ground, and I resist the instinctive urge to drop to the tarmac and cover my head. Instead, I watch in awe as the plane, nothing but a burning fireball now, breaks apart against the backdrop of the night sky.
My jaw drops, and we all stand there, mesmerized, as pieces of fiery plane drop from the sky and fall back to earth.
There’s no way Hector survived that.
Rook and Phoenix both let out a whoop, and high-five each other. I jerk my head back toward the cars, and Camile and Ghost.
Gunning my bike, I roar back toward where the cars are parked. The others are following. I get close, and pull to a stop. I grin to myself as I climb off, starting to walk the last few feet to Camile and Ghost. We did it!
We won. Despite everything, we actually fucking won.
Something punches me in the back, and I fall forward, landing on the asphalt.
I can’t breathe; all of the air has vanished from my lungs. A split second later, the ring of a gunshot meets my ears.
Holy shit. I’ve been shot.