Mastering the Devil (Rush Series Book 4) (14 page)

Slowly, she nodded her head, “Okay,” she whispered. 

But when he tried to tug her away, she resisted. With tears still trickling down her cheeks, she whispered, “I can’t just leave her, Cash.”

His lips tightened in view of her devastating loss. He patted her shoulder as the sounds of sirens filled the air. “You stay here with your mother. I’ll go around front and direct them back here. Okay?”

She nodded, then knelt down in the middle of the rubble to clutch one of her mother’s lifeless and bloodied legs. “What have I done?” she whispered.

~M~

The
next morning, the sun had barely risen when Alex met Erick and John in the lobby of his hotel. They’d ridden back together in the towncar to PUERTO VALLARTA the night before. Together, they drove to Spartacus Aluminum and were met alone by Jose Gonzalez, the company’s owner.

“Jose,” Alex said as he shook his hand. Turning to his companions, he introduced them all before saying, “I
appreciate you doing this.”

Jose nodded. “Those bastards are costing me money. It’s time they start paying. What do you need me to do?”

“Just load the truck like you’d normally would, and then your part is done,” Alex said.

“Sounds easy enough.”

Alex rubbed a hand over his face and his features took on an ominous bearing. “Listen, Jose, this could be dangerous for you. I’d be remiss if I didn’t give you a chance to back out. There’d be no shame in it. This isn’t your battle,” he said quietly.

“They’re
practically taking food out of my children’s mouths. What kind of man would I be if I didn’t protect my family,” Jose said with immense passion.

“Okay, just grab a uniform for John here, and let’s get that truck loaded,” Alex said as
adrenaline of the mission began to pump through his veins.
God! He’d missed this rush!

As
the truck was being loaded, Alex was having a last minute powwow with John and Erik. He looked at the navy uniform pants and blue and white pinstriped work-shirt draped over the crook of John’s arm and pursed his lips. “John, I still think I should be the one driving the truck and taking the risk,” Alex said.

“We
’ve already discussed this, Alex. You are a better marksman than me,” John replied. “A better marksman and a better strategist.”

Still Alex hesitated. “This isn’t your fight,” he finally said.

With a grin, John replied, “It never is.”

With a laugh, Erick piped in, “Be
sides, no one would ever believe that you’re a delivery man.

“Oh, I could totally sell it, “Alex said with an arrogant smirk.

Patting Alex on his cheek, John said jovially, “Naw… you’re much too pretty.”

“And soft
too,” Erick said with a laugh.

Alex grinned and shook his head, finding he missed the camaraderie that was formed during a mission.
Once they’d gone over the plan for the last time, Alex once again reiterated one last point. “Remember, if anything happens – specifically, any fire exchange – we all leave immediately and return to my suite in Mexico City. We need to be out of the city until things cool off, if it comes to that. There’s been no real violence before, only threats of it, and I’m not expecting any today… but just in case, we will need to get out of the city quickly. Understood?” Alex asked.

Both Erick and John nodded, their previous moments of joking and
levity gone, to be replaced with steely determination and the arrogance found in those who’d routinely placed themselves in harm’s way and came out victorious. It didn’t escape Alex’s notice that both men deferred to him. Having been in the field for so many years, each man was used to following orders and knew there could only be one leader. That Alex would be that man, there’d been no doubt. It was a role that had always come naturally to him and he’d always been comfortable and confident in that position - just as he was now.

Erick and Alex left John at the warehouse to change into his newly acquired delivery uniform. The other two men
drove through the slowly waking city and parked the rental car in an alley two blocks away from where they’d be positioned.

Erick handed Alex an earpiece and once he’d inserted it into his ear, Erick did a check for both him and John. With the fancy, state-of-the-art equipment they’d purchased the day before, Alex could clearly hear both men in his ear. He nodded to Erick, then turned and slowly made his way a little further down the street, while Erick went across the street and made the climb to one of the building tops. Once there,
Erick set up his high-dollar surveillance equipment and positioned himself with his sniper rifle aimed at the street down below.

Alex sat on a bench
with a cap pulled down and a newspaper in his hand for cover, he patted the Glock in the pocket of his jacket. The thugs had been pretty consistent on where’d they hijacked the other trucks, so he had a pretty good idea – or at least the block – the thugs would attack. Behind the cover of his newspaper he said into the microphone on the underside of his collared shirt, “Erick, you reading the trace on the product?”

“Loud and clear, boss
.”

“John, what’s your E.T.A.?” Alex asked.

“I’m right on schedule and will be at the intersection in under two minutes, boss,” John answered.

“Copy that,” Alex replied softly, as he casually flipped a page in his newspaper. He glanced around the street and was glad to see it nearly deserted.

He wondered, not for the first time, how the thugs always seemed to know when a delivery was due to arrive. He figured they’d had to have had help from someone who was working at the Dragon Towers’ work site. He’d made sure to advise the material handlers at Dragon Towers that he’d obtained supplies and that they would be arriving this morning. Not that he was that concerned with the low-level cretins working at Dragon Towers, once he got the one calling the shots, the cretins wouldn’t matter. Out of a long life of habit in the business, Alex patted his shirt which covered the velcroed armor underneath. Now, he waited.

Right on schedule, Alex covertly watched the
Spartacus Aluminum delivery truck turn the corner and lumber up the street. As the truck drew closer to him, Alex slowly folded the newspaper and stood, sticking the paper under one arm. He glanced at the truck and idly scanned the area looking for any sign of trouble. As the truck drove past his location, he unhurriedly ambled down the sidewalk in the same direction.

In his ear, from
John’s position behind the wheel of the truck, Alex heard him ask, “Boss, what do you want me to do?”

“Just keep going. Erick, you still got him?” he asked referring to the scope of his sniper rifle.

“Yep,” he answered.

John
had gone another block and had stopped at an intersection, when suddenly from seemingly out of nowhere, a flatbed truck with wooden-slated sides sped from a side street to stop in front of the delivery truck. On the flatbed stood about a dozen men holding onto the wooden slats of the truck. Each man appeared to have a rifle slung over their shoulders.

Continuing to move forward leisurely, Alex said, “John, let them have it. Remember, put up a little struggle, then let them have it.”

“Got it, boss,” John assured him.

Alex watched as the men jumped from the flatbed and swarmed the delivery truck. He picked up his pace in case there was any trouble they weren’t expecting
. John tapped the horn and waited. Alex saw the men aim their weapons at John before commanding him to leave the truck in Spanish. Alex kept waiting for John to alight from the truck, when he didn’t, he said, “John, get out of the truck!”

“I’m putting up a little resistance,” he responded with a laugh.

One of the men, a man with a red bandana wrapped around his forehead, and appeared to the band’s leader, pointed his weapon skyward and let off a round. Alex cringed, while the few people on the street not involved scattered for cover. He continued towards the intersection. He’d gotten within a hundred yards when John was yanked from the truck and thrown roughly to the ground on the other side of it. The truck blocked him from Alex’s view.

Grimly
, Alex said, “Erick?”

“I got eyes on him, boss,” came the reply.

Up ahead, Alex heard the man he’d dubbed as ‘Bandana’ shout something at John in Spanish. If John replied, Alex couldn’t hear him. Steadily, he made his way toward the intersection. When he got even with the truck, he saw he was drawing attention from some of the men surrounding the truck. Quickly, he ducked inside one of the small businesses lining the street. Inside, he found several people gawking at the activity on the street.

Quietly as he could, he said, “Erick, I need an update.”

“I’m not sure. My view is blocked. He’s still on the ground and the leader seems very agitated for some reason,” he replied.

“
John, do I need to step in?” Alex asked, as tension climbed up his spine.

In his ear, he heard John as he
spoke to the leader. “No
habla espanol
, no
habla espanol
.”

Alex
slipped out of the store and hunkered down behind a rusted, brown-paneled station-wagon. He slipped his Glock from his pocket and lifted his head to peer through the dirt-streaked windows. He watched as Bandana handed his weapon to another and lifted John from the ground and slam him against the hood of the truck, face-first. John stretched his arms out in front of him at the sharp command and prodding of the man behind me. Bandana thoroughly patted John down before swinging him roughly around, then he began to speak in rapid Spanish.

John once again repeated, “No habla espanol, no habla espanol.”

Bandana punched John with a quick jab to his jaw. John’s head snapped to the side and once again he began to speak in rapid Spanish. John raised his hands and shrugged, not understanding what the man was saying.

The man swung once more, this time connecting with John’s stomach.

Softly, Alex said, so both Erick and John could hear him in their earpieces, “John, we’re in a holding pattern until you give us the signal. Are you good?”

He heard John say as if in frustration
to Bandana, “Oh, this is good… just great. I don’t need this bullshit. Just take the damned truck!”

Softly again, Alex said, “Okay. We’ll continue to hold.”

Bandana glanced around his crew of thugs and pointed before motioning at another man who was leaning somewhat casually with his rifle propped on his forearm. The man immediately slung the rifle over his shoulder and moved forward. Bandana said something to the man which he repeated in stilted English to John.

“
jefe want to know why you come here?”

“I’m making a delivery, man, that’s all,” John replied.

This was relayed back to Bandana, who once again fired off something.

“
jefe want to why you work here but not speak Spanish?”

“I don’t work for Spartacus,” John said, pointing at the name on the side of the truck. “I work for Dragon Towers and I was told to drive the supplies to the worksite.”

Alex had to admire John’s quick thinking. They’d erroneously assumed the thugs would simply take the truck.

After listening to Bandana, the man turned his head back to John. “He said no supplies get to Towers.”

“Hey, man, I was just following orders. I don’t get paid enough for this shit!” John exclaimed, as he snatched his cap from his head and threw it on the ground.

“
jefe want to know why you wear that uniform?”

Alex tensed.
jefe was no dummy
. “Erick, you got eyes?”

“I’ve got my sights on
jefe as we speak,” came the reply.

Alex saw John shrug before saying, “I don’t know, man. My boss says wear the damned uniform, so guess what? I wear the damned uniform,” John said in a supposed huff.

jefe stepped forward, swung the butt of his rifle up to slam into John’s head. John slumped to the ground. “Erick?” Alex asked tersely.

“This is not good, Boss. Not good at all!” Erick exclaimed.

“John, signal if you can hear me. Erick has eyes on you,” Alex said softly.

Alex waited a second, before saying, “Erick?”

“Nothing, Boss. I think he’s out cold.”

Alex took the safety off his weapon and remained motionless. Time seemed suspended as the seconds slowly ticked by.
jefe barked out some commands before roughly kicking into John’s prone body. He motioned for another of his minions who moved to his side swiftly. While motioning wildly with his arms, he fired off something in rapid Spanish. The minion rubbed his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he contemplated whatever he’d been told. Slowly, he nodded his head in agreement.

Even from where he squatted be
hind the station-wagon, Alex could see the slow, devilish grin slide across jefe’s face.

“Erick, this can’t be good. John, if you can hear me, you need to watch out. Something is about to go down,” Alex said tensely.