Hunt Them Down(17)
“With a ton of butter,” Leila added.
“You bet, girl! Are you gonna have popcorn too, Charlie?” Sophia asked her bodyguard, who was seated in the front passenger seat of the huge Mercedes SUV.
Even though Leila had only recently become close friends with Sophia, she’d been around her long enough to know she was only teasing him. Charlie was a new guy, but Leila was pretty sure he’d say no. Sophia’s previous bodyguard had once explained his job was to protect her, and in order to do so to the best of his ability, he needed to have his hands free. Leila loved traveling with Sophia and her bodyguards. It made her feel important, especially when people tried to take pictures of them.
Charlie twisted in his seat to look at Sophia. “Of course I will. But no butter for me,” he said without a hint of a smile. Then he asked the driver. “What about you, Antonio?”
“Same thing.”
Sophia looked puzzled. By Charlie’s tone of voice, Leila knew he was joking, but Sophia had no idea her leg was being pulled.
“I’m joking, kiddo,” Charlie said, this time with a smile.
A quick look outside the SUV told Leila they were less than five minutes away from the theater. The traffic light in front of them turned red, and the driver stopped just behind a silver Hummer H2. To their left and right, two identical Dodge Caravans abruptly stopped, even though they both had room to move forward another three car lengths.
Leila saw Antonio take a look in the rearview mirror. Charlie wasn’t smiling anymore.
“What the hell?” Antonio said.
Leila turned around. There was another black Dodge Caravan. It was so close to the Mercedes’s rear bumper that Leila couldn’t see its headlights.
“Shit!” Charlie said.
Alarmed, Leila turned her attention back to the front, only to see the hatchback of the Hummer open. Two men dressed in black and wearing balaclavas were holding guns in their hands.
Sophia screamed.
To Leila, everything happened in slow motion. Charlie reached for something inside his jacket while Antonio tried to shift the Mercedes into reverse. A pistol appeared in Charlie’s hands. He briefly looked at Leila and yelled something she didn’t understand. Then white and red sparkles appeared at the end of the big guns the men in black were holding. Leila wanted to close her eyes but couldn’t. She was mesmerized by what was going on.
Holes appeared in the windshield. Two at first. One in front of Charlie, another in front of Antonio. Leila was surprised how forcefully Charlie was shoved back in his seat. It was as if someone had punched him hard in the stomach. Charlie screamed. He raised his pistol in front of him, and two more holes appeared in the windshield. He dropped his pistol.
Men climbed out of the black Dodge Caravan. One of them had something that looked like a hammer, a kind Leila had never seen before. The driver’s side window exploded, a hand reached inside the vehicle, and suddenly her door opened. Leila felt Sophia’s hand grabbing her forearm. Men were taking her friend away.
She had to stop them.
The gun. Charlie’s gun.
Leila leaped forward, her hands searching for the pistol she knew was there. Strong hands grasped her ankles. Her heart jumped. She was being pulled backward.
No!
Dad, I need you!
Her fingers touched metal.
The gun.
It was much heavier than she thought it would be. She tried to twist to face the man who was pulling her, but it was too late. They had already dragged her outside the Mercedes. Her arms were pinned to her side. Someone was holding her tight. She screamed and pulled the trigger. Again and again. Chips of concrete cut through her pants, slicing her skin.
Someone swore. Her arms were released. She pointed the gun toward one of her aggressors, but something hit her hard on the back of the head.
Everything went black.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Miami, Florida
Hector Mieles didn’t lose any time. The moment he confirmed the motorcade was immobilized, he ordered the men he had in flanking positions to attack. The first phase of the ambush had gone well, but he was a hardened combat veteran who knew he needed to press his advantage.
Their first objective was to get to Vicente Garcia and to make sure he was dead in case Chief Inspector Zorita failed to do his job in the opening seconds of the engagement. Their secondary objective, almost as important as the first, was to secure and evacuate the chief inspector. As much as the Black Tosca could be merciless and cold-blooded toward her enemies, she was loyal to those who served her well. And Zorita had served her valiantly for close to two decades. The intelligence Zorita had provided had allowed them to enact numerous takeovers of rival cartels. Knowing when and whom to strike had given her an edge over her adversaries.
Hector had no problem risking his men’s lives—even his own if it came to that—to help a fellow warrior. That was exactly what Julio Zorita was, a warrior. It didn’t matter for which cause they fought. As long as they were on the same side, Hector considered him a brother. The cartel members were his family. He had handpicked all the men with him today. What he wanted most was to get the job done and then head home to his family and the relative safety of San Miguel de Allende.
Hector watched as his men converged on the burning motorcade while the rest of his group, perched on the fourth floor of the construction site, covered them with a steady barrage of gunfire. Hector spotted a US marshal climbing out of the rear SUV and fired two shots in his direction. He missed, but his rounds landed close enough that the deputy marshal had to seek refuge behind the SUV’s engine block, allowing Hector’s men to cover more ground before they were fired upon.