Page 100 of Vaquero
Chapter Forty-Two
Leading with his rifle, Julio stepped into the narrow dirt alley that ran between the two cellblocks at this end of Zapata’s compound. There were no windows in either building to give Julio away, or allow a glimpse of who, if anyone, waited hopelessly beyond the concrete walls. No hope of hearing anyone call or cry out for help, either. The whole place was eerily quiet, which made Julio wonder if he’d guessed wrong. Was Zapata even here?
Straight ahead, the wall of the third concrete building loomed, creating a T-intersection and a decision point. The imposing, ten-foot-high wall of the third cellblock, the place where he’d found Bianca living in modest comfort while his son had languished, blocked the way forward.
With any other warrior at his side, Julio would’ve gone left while that operator went right. Together, they’d silently and efficiently put down whatever obstacles they encountered. They’d search the third cellblock for armed assassins, then meet at the firepit in front of Zapata’s barren bunker. The place where he’d once lived and had committed unspeakable horrors. Rapes. Murders. Tortures. It was no home away from home. More like living Hell on earth.
But this time around that operator was Meg, and like it or not, she was compromised. Stubborn, but not able to stand long on her feet. She wasn’t able or strong enough to fight as viciously as she might need to. Which meant they’d both have to turn right.
The only problem? They’d have to pass the one barred doorway. The last time Julio had done that, the cell had been crammed full of desperate, starving women and girls, some just toddlers. They’d reached out for him, and begged for help. Cried. Screamed hysterically for him not to leave them. Fortunately, Zapata had been out of Brazil back then, up north in the States hunting Suede Tennyson, now Suede Sinclair, Chance’s wife. Zapata hadn’t left his bunker or cellblocks properly protected.
After taking down what few guards there were, Julio had searched the cellblocks while FBI Agent Coltrane had handled the exfil for all those women and girls. But those voices and tears still haunted him. He’d faltered that day. Meg might falter today. Could she handle what she might see? What she might hear? All that begging? Those tears? Those tiny little children?
Julio crossed himself and whispered a quick Hail Mary to the Virgin to protect Meg.
Too soon, they were at the T-intersection. He ordered her to, “Stay on my six, Duncan. Eyes forward. Don’t let anyone touch you.”Or stop you from reaching Dominic.
She cupped his shoulder, the covert operator’s hand signal for affirmative.
Okay then. With nerves strung tight, Julio glanced to his left to make sure it was clear, then turned right. Stealthily, he and Meg crept past the only barred door, and found it empty. Small comfort that.
Advancing along the concrete wall of the final cellblock toward Zapata’s bunker, Julio froze. Meg hadn’t yet seen what he had. He didn’t want her to.
Yet Zapata had seen him. “You cannot hide, Agent Juarez,” he called out, his voice raspy and gruff. Heartless. “Come out in the open, where I can see you. I have what you want. We both know that.”
Julio stepped into the clearing between the cellblocks and Zapata, his rifle sight set on the bastard’s forehead. But poor Dominic was huddled against the far wall of the round metal cage hanging above a stone firepit that, for now, was cold.
“Mum!” he called frantically once Meg cleared the final cellblock, his skinny arms stretching between the bars. His frantic calls turned to shuddering sobs of, “Mum! Mum! Mum!”
Instinctively, she took a step toward him. “Dom! No!”
“Stay,” Julio ordered as he caught her by wounded shoulder.
Her breath hitched, but she obeyed and stopped in her tracks. Painfully alert now, he sensed others coming up behind him and Meg. Around them. Through the trees. Between the cell blocks Shadows with weapons and magazines being rammed home with sharp metallic clicks and slaps.
Meg’s thigh bumped his. Then her bicep. She was scared.
But Julio never hesitated. He’d been in worse stand-offs before. “The boy goes with us,” he growled. “Get him out of that cage. Now.”
Zapata’s square head canted fifteen degrees, as if seeing Meg surprised him. “You saved the woman. Why? Do you think to trade her? For my son? She is nothing to me,” Zapata muttered, his voice as gravelly and cruel as ever. A smoker’s voice. Gruff. Grating. Cold. His index finger lifted, pointing back and forth between Julio and himself. “This is between you and me. Not the hairlesscadelawho thought she could steal my son. She is nothing. But we have unfinished business,meu querido irmão.”
Little brother.
Julio gave the insult right back to him.“Porcos vagabundos não têm irmãos, mas apenas um encontro com a Morte! E este é o meu único negócio pendente com você.”
Pigs do not have little brothers. Only a date with Death! That is my only unfinished business with you.
Zapata didn’t answer, just stared at Meg, as the prickly sensation of more scopes zeroed in on Julio’s head. They’d walked into an ambush. He’d have to be quick on the draw to save both Meg and Dominic. He’d have to be lucky iftheywere going to live. He didn’t plan to, but Meg and Dom would.
Because this was what faithful husbands and fathers did. They died protecting theirfamilias. In the grand scope of things, Julio now knew why he’d been born, and why he’d suffered throughout his life. Everything he’d endured and lived through, every heartbreak and funeral, had brought him to this single point in time. From the beginning, his life had been forfeit. The only reason for his birth then was to save Meg Duncan and the son she loved today.
So be it.
Relief flooded his soul as Julio’s chest filled with sublime understanding. He’d never been more sure that the God he’d worshipped and prayed to all these sad, lonely years, had answered every one of his prayers. The divine decision had been made Julio had taken his first breath. God had always known who he was, that he would forever be His obedient son. At long last, there was comfort in understanding precisely Who had always been in charge. In knowing that God had never deserted him. That He was here, even at the end.
Julio’s heartbeat calmed. The grip on his rifle had never felt more solid nor his mission so clear. At last, Zapatawoulddie. Julio might also, but Meg and Dom would live to go home. Back to Texas.Count on it.
Once more worthy to be at Meg’s side, Julio straightened. Peace filtered down from that far off heaven above, which had suddenly drawn near.
