After his initial shock that I made it into his study wore off, he carried me to the sofa, keeping our distance from his desk where the gun lay. I got a stern lesson about entering rooms uninvited, then he explained how dangerous guns are. I heard the same warning until I left for college—two years after I went on my first mission.
“Watch out!”
Vita’s warning comes a moment before the SUV on her side swerves to strike our passenger side front quarter panel. A moment later, there’s a corresponding impact on my side. I hurry to grab a second rifle and pass it to her.
“Aren’t they worried someone’s going to call the police?”
“No. Someone paid for a traffic break. Look.”
I point out the back window, and she strains to see. In the distance, there’s a faint view of a police car weaving across lanes to keep vehicles from passing it. It’s allowing us to move without any traffic congestion. There aren’t too many people with the power and influence to do that. It makes me wonder if this is a government agency rather than a private citizen who’s paid hitmen.
“Patrón, they got the driver’s side tire.”
Unlike our SUVs that are veritable tanks, the town cars and limos have their limitations. The SUVs have special tires that will continue to roll even if they’ve been punctured. The town cars only have regular commercial tires. We’re forced to stop.
I grasp Vita’s hand and give it a squeeze before she and I both lower our windows enough to get the muzzle of our rifles out. Neither of us opens an indiscriminate spray of bullets, but we are shooting wide, hoping to take out our attackers as well as their vehicles much like they did ours.
However, our attempts cease when the three of us watch in horror as a man with a gasoline can comes and pours it along the cracks in the hood. While the car might be bulletproof, it’s not fireproof. A moment later, he drops a lighter onto the car, and the hood ignites.
“Vita, come out after me on my side.”
“The hell I am. I’m not using you as a shield. We have people on either side of us. You take care of yours, and I’ll take care of mine.”
Arguing with her is futile. Smoke’s already filling the car. We have no choice but to get out or be cremated. We tuck our handguns into our waists at our lower backs and ready our rifles. Ronaldo, our driver, already has a rifle propped in the front seat. It’s standard protocol for all our drivers ever since someone attackedTíaElle and Madeline.
We each open our door a sliver, continuing to fire before stumbling out of the vehicle. Despite the men’s bodies I see littered on my side and the ones I’m certain are on Vita’s, we’re still overpowered. All three vehicles were filled to the brim, each seating seven. It’s nearly two dozen to three.
“Vita!”
I bellow her name after I hear fist hitting skin. I can’t tell who struck who.
“I’m all right, Jandro, but somebody didn’t like having hishuevosshoved up his ass.”
I take a fist to the sternum as two men grab my arms and pin them against me. I rage, headbutting the guy who punched me, doing my best to elbow the guys at my side. I rock to my left, driving my shoulder into the fucker. I rock back toward my right, and I know the man braces himself for me to use my shoulder against him. Instead, I stomp on his foot and grind my heel into his toes. I struggle with all my strength, wanting to get to Vita.
“Vita, talk to me. Are you okay?”
Before she can respond, the sound of a gun being discharged fills the air. From the corner of my eye, I see Ronaldo drop to the ground, a bullet between his eyes. I have to live through this if for no other reason than to do the honorable thing and be the one to inform his parents of what happened and attend his funeral to pay my respects.
“Ah!” It’s a male voice in pain.
“You shouldn’t have put your hand so close to my face. I thought it was an invitation.”
I hear Vita make the exaggerated sound of gnawing on something.
“Don’t worry, I won’t bite you again. You’re a bit bland for my taste.”
She says it with such a benign tone that if I didn’t know her, I would wonder about her psychopathy. I laugh and spit straight in the eye of the shitbag in front of me. Vita’s not the only one who can rely on children’s tactics when you’re fighting for your life.
I take an uppercut that snaps my head back. Luckily, I’m tall enough that my head doesn’t hit the vehicle. Otherwise, the force from both sides would’ve knocked me out. I settle down enough that both men eased their hold on me without realizing it.
I seize the opportunity to thrash, throwing my fist sideways as best I can until my left hand breaks free and I can reach back for my handgun. I get off a round to the head of the man in front of me. But three more men rush forward, one with an iron pipe. A moment before everything goes dark, I hear Vita call out to me. Then there’s the sound of her surely dropping to the ground.
My head’s pounding as I come around.
I’ve had more concussions than anyone should. I’ve also been drugged before. I can tell from the way my arms and legs feel. It’s as though they’re no longer attached to me except by a few sinews. My head pounds like one of the fucking O’Rourkes is dancing a jig inside it. It makes me wonder how long I’ve been out and just how far they took us.
I open my eyes a sliver and look around until I spot Vita to my right. I observe her and can tell when she wakes, even though she keeps her eyes closed. It’s the most subtle shift in her breathing for a moment. Then she becomes aware enough to return her breathing to a slow, even pattern like it was while she was unconscious. I continue to watch her until her eyes slideopen just a fraction. It’s enough for our gazes to meet, but not enough to convey our thoughts.
