Chapter 54
“Back off, or she dies,” Jordan shouted.
“Let her go, and I’ll let you live,” I replied. "You need to think about this," I shouted at him. "If you harm Paisley, you die. There's no scenario where you walk out of here alive, unless you let her go."
"Fuck you!”
His voice gave away his position.
I inched toward the top of the steps.
More bullets snapped over the top of my head.
Jordan wasn’t the best shot in the world, but even a broken clock is right twice a day. If I gave him enough chances, he'd hit me eventually.
He hid behind the bar counter in the spacious lounge that had terrace access. Moonlight filtered in, backlighting the room, silhouetting his outline.
Jordan had his hands full, keeping a pistol aimed at me while managing Paisley. Her whimpers drifted from the room.
"Just put the gun down, Jordan.”
In close-quarter combat, most gunshots miss. The rush of adrenaline and nerves degrade fine motor skills. With heartbeats pounding and shaky hands, even professionals can’t hit squat. Jordan certainly wasn't a trained professional.
Paisley grabbed a bottle from the bar and smacked it over Jordan's head while he was distracted with me. The bottle shattered, and Jordan groaned.
Paisley took off running.
I vaulted to the top of the stairs just as Jordan angled his pistol over the bar counter at her as she ran for cover.
I squeezed the trigger twice. My bullets rocketed through the night, pelting him in the chest. He tumbled back against another shelf of liquor. The whole rack came crashing down on top of him as he collapsed.
Glass shattered, and liquor flowed.
I advanced through the room, angled around the bar counter, and secured the perp.
With my foot, I swept his pistol away, then knelt down and felt for a pulse in his neck.
It faded under my fingertips as his last breath escaped his lungs.
Covered in whiskey, vodka, and tequila, the aroma of alcohol swirled.
I moved back to Paisley.
She trembled on the ground.
"Are you okay?"
She nodded, and I helped her up.
"Let's get out of here," I said.
She didn’t argue with that.
We hurried out of the lounge and plunged down the steps to the foyer. I cleared the area before advancing to the door with Paisley. We held up, and I scanned the compound. JD had pulled Antonio behind a vehicle for cover.
The area looked clear.
I was pretty sure we had done away with all of Raul's men. But I kept a cautious eye out nonetheless. We stepped out of the house, and I escorted Paisley across the grounds and caught up with JD.
He tied Antonio’s shirt around his wounded thigh and managed to get the bleeding stopped.
"Is he good?" I asked.
"He’s stable. But he needs attention.”
The color had drained from Antonio’s skin, and sweat misted his body. The main thing was to keep him from going into shock. "We’re going to get you out of here. Just stay calm. Take slow, deep breaths.”
Antonio nodded.
"You have the keys to your boat?”
He shook his head. "They took them.”
I told Paisley to stay with Jack and Antonio while I searched the fallen perps for keys. I rummaged through pockets, taking anything with floaters. These guys didn’t need cash anymore, and I emptied their wallets. Both Raul and Jordan had fat stacks.
I returned a moment later and showed my collection of keys to Antonio. "Are any of these yours?”
He pointed to a set.
I couldn’t say for certain, but I figured they had moved his boat around to the dock. JD and I lifted Antonio to his feet and helped him to a nearby ATV. We loaded him onto the back, then climbed aboard with Paisley.
I fumbled through keys until one of them started the vehicle up. The electric motor hummed, and the knobby tires spat gravel as I took off, heading down the path that led to the shoreline. We cruised through the jungle on the ATV, taking the winding path down the mountain to the dock.
We had our pick of boats, but we carried Antonio back to his center console and helped him aboard. Jack took the helm, fired up the engines, and I cast off the lines. Jack throttled up, pulled away from the dock, and headed back to San Montego.
I made an encrypted call to Isabella and told her we needed emergency medical assistance. This was the kind of place where, for the right price, you could find a doctor to pull out a bullet and stitch a patient up without much fuss.
Jack brought the boat on plane, skimming across the water. The engine howled, spitting a frothy wake. The pale moonlight glowed overhead, and the island grew small behind us.
For Paisley, the danger was over, but the trauma would linger for a long time.