Page 16 of All Twisted Up
“Nice shooting, Marshall. He dropped the kid,” Candy reported. “He’s headed to you, Patsy, Napoleon. Clean up this mess.”
“Will do, Captain,” Napoleon Smith said in the earwig, followed by Patsy’s lilting, “Aye, sir.”
“Hold!” Candy suddenly shouted. “The little girl is running toward the back of the store…and…shit—” I watched as the captain slowly lowered his binoculars. “I no longer have eyes on her. He probably ordered her to go to him, anticipating someone would be in the alley out back. Napoleon…Patsy…assume he’s got the girl.”
“I’ll treat her like she’s me own,” Patsy drawled.
I smiled inwardly. Our resident Irishman’s thick brogue was pleasing to the ears, but it was the cool, quiet way he had about him, that always reinforced his commitment to the mission. He was solid in a firefight and because of his upbringing in Northern Ireland as the eldest of nine siblings, also fiercely protective of the lives of small children.
Only a minute or so passed before I heard a creaking sound as if a door was opening slowly. I held my breath, exchanging a glance with Mickey who was clearly listening as well. A second later there was a loud bang, followed by a brief struggle, the cry of a young child, and finally, all sound cut off by an unmistakable gurgle.
“Subject down. Child unharmed,” Patsy reported, slightly out of breath. “Repeat. Gomez is dead, Captain Sorensen.”
I blew out a relieved breath, watching Mickey do the same.
“Well done, Good,” Candy said. “Stay with the child until we have a positive ID on the subject. Turley is coming to you. Smith, you stay with him until the DEA gets there.”
“Yes, sir,” Napoleon replied.
“Hampstead, Way, once you deem it safe, bring those civilians to me. Stay watchful. Turley’s team is still clearing the building.”
“Yes, sir,” I said, looking at the two young men in our custody who were watching us with wide eyes. I offered the barest of smiles. “Come on. It’s time to go. What are your names?”
“I’m Joshua Calder and this is Billy Jenkins,” the taller of the two replied. “Where are we going?” He seemed braver than his crying friend who was huddled close.
“We’re going to talk to my boss. The guy we came here to get is no longer a threat.” I glanced around the room before turning back to them. “I’m positive he’s going to want to know how you two idiots are tangled up in this mess.”
To their credit, they didn’t argue as Mickey and I led them out of the apartment.
Chapter Four
NASH
Back on the street, the LAPD had been brought in to coordinate crowd control setting up barricades to keep gawkers as well as the press who’d arrived, from getting in the way. The street was filled with civilians who’d not only run from our building, but other neighboring apartments and early opening stores. Our team had gathered beside the BearCat with the exception of Good and Smith who were no doubt waiting for the DEA to identify Gomez at the back of the building.
Candy was standing with Alain Joy, checking out his shoulder. There was a hole in his shirt that sure enough, looked like just a bullet had grazed it. When he nodded and patted my brother on the cheek, I breathed out a sigh of relief. Mickey and I still had the two young men with us and currently, they were seated in the BearCat where we’d put them, leaning against each other and watching the goings on. I noticed Rex sauntering up with his rifle case in hand. He greeted everyone with grunts. I walked over and slapped him on the shoulder, smiling up at the tall Texan.
“It’s okay, buddy. It’s not your fault he slipped out. I know you had eyes into that apartment, but shit happens, right?”
He looked down at me. “There was a coat closet next to the front door. Must’ve slipped out after the DEA team rushed in. Slithered right out behind their backs.”
I realized Rex was right. The only way he could have gotten out was through the front door and down the stairs, which meant Turley’s team hadn’t been covering the stairwell insidethe building the way they’d promised. Somebody should lose their job and the blame for a dead DEA agent fell directly on Turley’s shoulders and his big, fat ego. Not only had a man on his team lost his life, but the safety of hundreds of civilians had been put at risk.
“Turley jumped the gun, having those guys take the door before warning Nash and I,” Mickey said from beside me.
I glanced at him, noting his red face and the way he was rubbing his sternum. He was still fuming about it, and I couldn’t blame him. If it hadn’t been for his body armor and vest, he would have been killed by the bullet which was still lodged right over his chest. Not to mention, that another couple of seconds earlier and we would have been sliced to ribbons by the glass exploding outward.
“You were lucky they weren’t shootin’ armor-piercin’ bullets,” Rex drawled, staring at the projectile.
We all turned when the unmistakable sound of sirens coming up the block alerted us to a couple of ambulances driving our way. I had to wonder who else had been injured, praying there weren’t civilians. I glanced at Candy who was waving for all of us to get out of the street and make way. He walked over.
“The DEA found a dying civilian in the stairwell. He’s got three bullets in him and is barely clinging to life,” the captain reported.
“You think he met with Gomez on his way down?”
Candy nodded, looking grim. “It’s a strong possibility.”
We watched the ambulances wait for the LAPD to move sawhorses out of the way, parting the barricade to let it through. As soon as they’d driven up, paramedics hopped out and were promptly escorted into the building.
