Sinclair Justice (Texas Rangers #2)(77)

Nodding his agreement, Chad went down to talk to the general. The ensuing seconds were the longest of Ross’s life; he tensed to top the slope by himself if need be but restrained himself, waiting for the general’s answer. Acting on his own would only get both him and Emm killed . . . maybe Chad and Yancy, too.

Besides, he’d resigned as task force chief. This wasn’t his call.





CHAPTER 15

Inside the study, Emm watched as all hell seemed to break loose. A crackle came from the radio. Something about “mujer Yanqui.” And then, blessedly, Emm heard Yancy’s name. With a cry, she leaped to her feet.

Cervantes bit out an order and one of the guards yanked her back down, pressing her in the side with his machine gun. She subsided but had to bite her lip until it bled to contain herself. However, the study door was still ajar, and she could see the large foyer when the door was thrown open.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Curt reach for his pocket. The guards were all focused on the door, so she was the only one who saw him press a button on his cell phone. Their eyes locked briefly.

She didn’t need to see any more to know he was messaging someone. His gaze flickered back to watch the drama in the foyer, but not fast enough, and she knew him well enough to read his eyes. As usual, he was playing both ends against the middle. He’d played along only until he could set his own agenda in motion. What that was she had no idea, because none of these men seemed to recognize him. Had he used an assumed name?

Feeling sick to her stomach, with the gun still poking her, Emm could only watch and wait, every instinct in her body screaming at her to run to Yancy’s aid.

Guards poured in first; then the oldest guard, obviously the shift leader outside, dragged a tall woman in black inside the door, slamming it shut. She flipped her long, dirty, tangled blonde hair over her shoulder and turned to face Cervantes.

“Yancy,” Emm screamed.

Yancy turned toward the sound of her voice, so she wasn’t ready for the fist that slammed into her cheek. She went sprawling.

Cervantes shook his sore hand and bit off a curse at the woman at his feet, kicking her for good measure. Yancy sat up, spitting a retort Emm couldn’t catch, but it was obviously virulent. She rose to her knees, reaching for the pistol in the belt of the guard nearest her, but he dodged away, kicking at her hand. Yancy cried out, cradling it, and they all saw the dripping blood.

Even the gun poking her wasn’t enough to stop Emm then. She shoved the guard away, leaped to her feet, and ran toward the door.

As the guard lifted his weapon to fire at her back, the lights in the entire building went out. At the same time they all heard a small explosion coming from the basement area. For a split second, total stupefied silence reigned as the room was pitched into darkness.

There was a macabre flash, and everyone dodged away from the brilliant, disorienting light. As the emergency generators kicked on, shattering glass, splintering wood, and small explosions seemed to rock the entire huge house from every direction.

Then the guards were shooting at doors and windows. Half-blinded from what she realized must be flash-bang grenades, Emm groped into the hallway far enough to put her arms around Yancy, and hold her tight as she pulled her sister flat against the cold floor. Yancy began sobbing, but only Emm knew it because pandemonium ruled as the gunfire intensified.

Armed and armored soldiers seemed to pour inside from every opening. Arturo’s huge army suddenly seemed very small. Guards began falling. Emm lifted her head; even over the cacophony she heard a familiar voice.

“Emm!” It was Ross. He held a handgun at the ready and shot a drug dealer in the arm who was aiming at the two women. The drug dealer’s machine gun dropped to the marble floor as his elbow splintered through his forearm, blood spurting. He fell, screaming.

Emm barely noticed. She smiled brilliantly in Ross’s direction, still blinking, trying to focus. “I knew you’d come,” she said simply, still sheltering Yancy under one arm. But she’d raised herself high enough that she was in the line of fire. A bullet flew past her, singeing her scalp and leaving a terrible pain in her head and a viscious ringing in her ears. She shook her head, trying to clear them.

Ross crouched and fought his way toward her, stepping over several fallen men, two guards and one marine, returning fire from several angles as he came.

The next thing Emm knew, she was being jerked from the floor, providing a human shield for Arturo Cervantes as he backed her up the stairs, a .357 pistol pointed upward at her side at a lethal angle that led straight to her heart. She tried to fight, but the pistol prodded harder, and her head felt like it was going to come off her shoulders, so she went limp and let herself be pulled. Blood oozed from the graze, trickling down the side of her head and face.

Ross froze. Chad Foster came in behind him so fast he bumped into him. Ross was so tense he barely moved at the impact, but he had enough presence of mind to press Chad’s raised shotgun toward the floor.

The gunfire was sputtering off as more armed marines rounded up the guards. Several had locked themselves in the study and shot through the door at their enemies, but the outcome was inevitable.

To everyone but Arturo Cervantes. He had Emm almost to the landing now.

Ross’s gaze flickered to the side toward the DEA lead agent, who was crouched behind the curve of the stairway, aiming carefully at Cervantes’s head.

But Cervantes had survived in a brutal world so long partly because of his tactical ability. He pulled Emm flat over him on the upper landing, obviously expecting an assault from his blind spot. The shots went well above his head, pocking the plaster walls. And then, with his brutal peasant’s strength, Cervantes half-crawled, half-slithered, pulling Emm’s light weight with him until he could stand, around the shield of the walled corridor.