Page 49 of Our Tricks

Bursting into the room, I found it empty.

“Fuck.” I yelled, punching the drywall and leaving a dent. “How could I have been so fucking stupid? I knew he wanted to get her out of this place. I never should have trusted that he’d do the right thing by leaving her here.”

“We know they wouldn’t head out the front so let’s find out if there’s a back way out of here,” Picasso suggested.

I knew this hall ended in a dead end, so we had to try some of the others. Jogging so we could cover ground more quickly, I nearly passed a set of metal doors labeled Employees Only.

“Picasso,” I yelled.

He stopped, looked back, and saw what I was pointing at. In a flash, he was by my side and swiped the keycard, followed by a buzz of the doors unlocking. Shoving them open, we found ourselves in a laundry room with industrial washers and dryers running, filling the room with a humming noise. Another set of doors was on the opposite side of the room, and we jogged over, having to pause for the door to unlock and reveal a loading dock area. The area was covered in corrugated paneling as were the sides protecting the shipments from any weather but also blocked our view.

Leaping off the dock, I hit the ground running, and when I made it out, I paused to look at my surroundings. The sound of a van door closing caught my attention, turning to see a man jumping into a white work van with a company name plastered on the side of it. Pulling my gun out, I aimed for the front wheel, squeezing off two rounds that hit but didn’t seem to slow them down. Shifting, I went for the back tires, but Picasso beat me to it, taking out the other side. The van wobbled with the uneven tread and veered off to the side like the driver couldn’t control the vehicle.

“Come on,” I shouted and bolted off toward the van that was now hurtling right into a brick sign for the facility.

The sound of the crash was loud with the screeching of metal and shattering glass. Reaching the van, I slowed with my gun raised as I hurried around to the driver’s side door. When I saw a stranger face down in the steering wheel, I yanked open the door, and the guy tumbled out. His forehead was bleeding, and he was wearing an orderly outfit like Nate. A groan from the back had me moving to the side door.

Picasso was there, hand on the handle, looking to me for the go signal. With a sharp nod, I had my gun at the ready. Pulling the door back, I found Mariana tied up, but Alvaro was slumped by the driver’s seat as if he’d been the reason the van crashed. Mariana spotted me, and she started to thrash frantically, her eyes wide with fear.

“It’s okay, Mariana, I’m not going to hurt you. Let me get this gag off, and you can tell me what the hell happened,” I soothed, stepping into the back.

Crouching in front of her, I tugged the gag out of her mouth, and she started to sob while speaking Spanish at a speed I wasn’t sure anyone could understand. I’d never formally learned the language, but it was useful, so I let my crew and the streets teach me what I needed to know. I couldn’t tell if she was speaking a different style of Spanish than I’d learned or if I really knew fuck all, and it was showing.

“Mariana, I need you to slow down,” I urged. “I want to help you, but I can’t do that when I don’t understand what you’re trying to tell me.”

A groan altered me to Alvaro waking up, so I took a step over to him wanting to make sure he wasn’t badly injured or anything. Looks like he had a split lip and a nasty bruise to the forehead, but otherwise, he’d live.

“Alvaro, you with me, buddy?” I asked as I helped him up.

He winced when he lifted a hand to his head, touching gingerly at where a large bump was growing. “Ah fuck, that really hurts.”

“Yeah, concussions are a shit deal, but the pain means you’re alive,” I offered, having had my fair share of them. “What the hell happened?”

“Marco, he knew Franco would fuck it up and used him as a distraction,” Alvaro muttered then looked around like he just realized he should look for his mother.

“Easy there, bro,” I warned. “Your mom is right here, and as far as I can tell, she’s fine but super fucking panicked. I’m not sure if she’s even speaking Spanish.”

Alvaro took a deep breath and looked around the van. “Wait, where’s the other guy?”

“What other guy? I only saw the driver,” I said, then the sound of gunshots went off, and I grabbed Alvaro putting him on the floor of the van. “Alright, there was another guy. Picasso, you good?” I yelled.

“Motherfucker came out of nowhere and tried to fucking stab me,” Picasso growled as he walked into view. “Are we keeping the other one alive?”

“Can’t hurt. The more we can get to help us find Marco, the faster we can be done with this shit. Seriously, do you think we could go one goddamn day without getting shot or blown up?”

The sound of many feet pounding across the asphalt told me the cavalry was here. What I didn’t know was if it was my guys or the FBI.

“We fucking let you guys out of our sight for ten minutes, and you’re getting shot at? That’s it, no more splitting up. I can’t take this shit anymore,” Eagle groused as he walked up to Picasso and slugged him in the shoulder. “That’s for not keeping her safe and almost getting yourself killed.”

“Um… how exactly am I not safe?” I asked, sliding out of the van and turning to help Mariana out.

She clung to me like I was her only lifeline, and instead of fighting it like I normally would, I just let it happen. This poor woman had been through hell today, and I wasn’t going to stand in her way of what would make her feel better. The FBI joined us along with Dr. Lowe, who was able to extract Mariana from me and got her into a wheelchair to get her back inside.

Alvaro made to protest, but I shot him a look and shook my head. “She’s had a hell of a day, just let it be for now. You’re coming with me, and we’re going to figure out everything we can that you might know about your uncle. The only way to keep your mother safe is to take the bastard out. Got it?”

Alvaro nodded but winced and grabbed his head. “Fuck, why does that hurt so much?”

“Sorry, Mrs. Blackmore, but you’re not taking him anywhere. He’s coming with us,” Agent Park informed me with a less-than-endearing tone.