Page 15 of The Soul of Archer
"Seems the Malconi's have teamed up with a Mexican cartel called El Demonio Lobos. This cartel is new to the scene but they're making a name for themselves and fast. Them teaming up with the Malconi's is bad news all the way around. Over the last three months Monica has made nearly two dozen trips to the cartel's compound near Torreon." Danny explained.
"Wait, this bastard's mother is involved in this too?" Gage asked.
"Oh boy is she ever. Monica is the negotiator. When the Lobos reached out, she was who they dealt with. According to rumors, one of the Lobos tried to test her, you know because she's a woman. Well, she pulled out a nickel-plated .45 and put a round right between the eyes." Danny reported.
"Damn." Tony whistled.
"Yeah. So, my guy inside says there's a big deal going down in about three weeks in Houston. Sam and Ian will be flying down to oversee it. My guy did overhear Sam and Ian changing the date of the exchange because of what Alora saw. All he knows about the exchange itself, is that there will be guns, ammo, and drugs. The guns and ammo are coming from a German arms dealer named Fredrick Günther. He and the Malconi's have been dealing together for nearly twenty years. The D.E.A., the Feds, Homeland and Interpol have been after Günther for nearly as long. If we can tie these weapons and ammo to him, we've got him. Same with the Malconi's and Lobos." Danny continued.
Lance studied the recon photos. He frowned when he spotted something in one of the pictures. "Hey Danny, where was this one taken?"
Danny walked over and looked at the picture. "That was taken at the deli just down from Alora's bakery."
Lance looked up as fear gripped him. "When was this taken?"
Danny flipped the picture over to look at the date. "Um, yesterday...."
Lance spun on his heel and charged from the room. Yesterday Sam had been watching Alora and later that night he kicked in her door. Behind him he could hear Ethan calling for him, but he wasn't stopping. He needed to get to Alora and fast.
***
Alora held the three bank bags as she closed her office door. "Frank, I'm running these to the bank. Be back in a bit."
"You got it. You be careful." Frank said, his face taking on the expression of a concerned father.
"Don't worry. I'm just walking right around the corner. I'll be fine." Alora chuckled, tucking the bags into the messenger bag she wore across her chest.
She turned and headed for the front of the shop. Waving to her counter staff, she stepped out onto the sidewalk. It was mid-May and the feel of summer was already in the air. In just a few short weeks, Austin would be invaded by bikers for the annual Republic of Texas motorcycle rally. An event she had attended a few times. She loved to look at all the motorcycles and had even been a passenger but had never had a desire to own one for herself. Thinking about what else was on her agenda for the day, she rounded the corner.
***
Lance slammed on the breaks, put the truck in park and jumped from his truck. He ran to the back door and began pounding on it. He prayed she was inside. The door opened, and he was face-to-face with Frank.
"Where's Alora?"
"She walked to the bank around the corner to drop of the deposit." Frank answered, his eyes wide.
"Alone?" Lance demanded.
"Yeah...she..." Frank stuttered, but Lance was already running for the street.
Lance pumped his legs, his gut now twisting in worry. He hoped he hunch was wrong but that rarely happened. He rounded the corner and saw Alora walking calmly out of the bank. Just then a feeling shot up his spine. Behind him he heard an engine being revved, then tires squealing. With a burst of speed, he raced toward Alora. Risking a glance behind him, he saw a blue sedan speeding toward the sidewalk.
Lance heard the car jump the curb just as he reached Alora. He grabbed her in a bear hug and spun them so that she was cocooned between him at her front the brick wall of a building at her back. He hissed as the passenger mirror clipped his right side sending him and Alora sprawling to the sidewalk. He lifted his head just in time to see the car speed of, hitting a trashcan and stop sign in the process.
"Oh god! Lance! Lance are you alright?" Alora cried underneath him.
"I... I'm good." He panted, looking down at her. "You...alright?"
"You were hit. We need to call 9-1-1." She said, worry etched on her face and in her voice.
"An ambulance and police car are on the way." A woman reported kneeling beside them, "Yes sir, it was a blue sedan, four-door, tinted windows. I caught the last three of the plate. Oscar-Foxtrot-4. Yes, Texas plates."
Lance glanced at her with a lifted brow as he moved off Alora. "Military or cop?"
"Four years Navy. Judging by the hair, I'd say you were a Devil Dog." She teased.
Lance started to chuckle, then hissed as pain shot up his side. The woman and Alora eased him onto his back. He slowly breathed as Alora cradled his head in her lap gently, stroking his forehead.
