Page 29 of All Twisted Up
NASH
We were just finishing up dinner when the doorbell rang. All eyes turned to the front room and Joshua started to get up from the table just as my phone rang. I put a hand on his shoulder. “Hang on.” He stayed there, looking up at me as I dug my phone out of my pocket. “Hampstead.”
“Distress call just came in. One of the two officers parked in front of the house,” Candy said. I could hear him running. “Shelter in place. We’re rolling.”
“Yes, sir.” I hung up and tightened my grip on Joshua’s shoulder, shoving my phone into my pocket. “Get the kids.” His eyes widened. “Now!”
Without another word, he and Barbie jumped up from the table, taking hold of the little ones. I motioned for them to follow me, running into the central hallway. “Is there a room in this house without windows?”
Joshua shook his head. “What’s happening, Nash?” He looked and sounded terrified.
“We need to hide. Don’t mess around. Tell me. Is there a room without windows?” When he just stared, I grabbed his biceps and shook him. “Come on, Joshua. There has to be somewhere.” I glanced around as the doorbell rang again. “It’s an old house. Does it have a basement? An attic?”
“Attic!” Joshua said, finally snapping out of it.
My gaze flew to the ceiling and I spotted a crawl space covered by a rectangular panel. “Come on!” The kids werecrying, asking for the puppy which we’d left in the kitchen, happily working on a dish of kibble. Barbie was trying to comfort them and keep them quiet as she held them close. Joshua was watching me with wide, frightened eyes. “I’m going to boost you up. Push aside the panel and crawl in. I’ll lift the kids up to you.” He nodded as we positioned ourselves under the ceiling panel. I bent, making a stepstool for him with intertwined fingers and hoisted him up as he gripped my shoulders for balance. He pushed the panel aside as someone outside the thick, wooden front door began pounding on it. I said a silent prayer, hoping it would hold up long enough for me to get them into the attic.
I had him up and inside the ceiling seconds later and then grabbed Pete as Barbie passed him to me, followed by Meggie. Both kids were sobbing. Glass shattered somewhere in the house and I rushed to push Barbie into the hole with Joshua’s help. The second her legs disappeared, Joshua’s face appeared. He held down both hands but I shook my head. “Cover the hole and keep them quiet!”
I didn’t wait for him to comply before drawing my weapon. When the power cut off a second later, plunging the house into darkness, I ran and silently shut the bedroom door, then the second one. Heading for the final hallway door, I ducked inside, and shut the drapes tightly before returning to the door.
I let out a silent breath, trying to calm the beating of my heart as I pulled out my phone, firing off a text to Candy.
Family in attic crawl space. Me - last bedroom.
ETA 5 mins, SWAT on scene in 3. Location received. Shelter in place. Keep your head down, Nash.
Roger.
Ishoved my phone back into my pocket, cursing the fact that I only had fifteen bullets in my clip and wasn’t wearing a vest. Inmy experience, the cartel never went anywhere without an army of guys and an abundance of automatic weapons. I heard a crash on the other side of the closed door and prayed that Joshua and Barbie would be able to keep the kids quiet. My nerves were on edge.
Keeping myself safe was one thing, but keeping an entire family safe was a whole other thing. I thought about what they would do to the tiny puppy if they found him and sent up a prayer for him too. The floor outside the door squeaked and I did my best to determine how far away it was. They were moving like fucking ninjas through the old, dark house, as I figured they would, checking it methodically.
Time stood still as I waited. I slowly withdrew my phone, cursing the light from the screen as I checked the time. Three minutes had elapsed. Candy had said SWAT would be on scene in a matter of minutes since they were closer than our team. They couldn’t come fast enough.
I heard one of the bedroom doors open as the floor squeaked again. I glanced around the small bedroom, unable to make out anything but shadowy shapes of furniture. For a fleeting moment, I thought of moving somewhere to take cover but dismissed the urge since tripping over an area rug or piece of furniture was more likely. I moved to the hinge side of the door, where I’d be at least partially concealed when one of the thugs got to the room and opened it. I held my gun at the ready, gripping it with two hands, taking slow, steady breaths.
A second set of footsteps joined the first in the hall and I heard a whispered conversation in Spanish, satisfied that I’d deduced the identity of the uninvited guests. I didn’t speak the language fluently, but being raised in California and working in Houston had allowed me to pick up a few words. Almost every native Californian I knew spoke some Spanish. I heard one ofthem say something along the lines of not leaving until they put something in Joshua’s head. I assumed the word I’d missed was “bullet.” The slur they used for a gay man angered me more than I could say, but I pushed down my outrage, satisfied in the knowledge that they hadn’t yet found the remarkable young man and his family hiding in the attic.
They came closer and I took a deep breath as the doorknob began to turn. I braced myself for the inevitable when they suddenly let go.
“POLICIA! POLICIA! SWAT! POLICIA!”
The men in the hallway scrambled away from the door and I stayed frozen in position. I wasn’t about to step into the hallway holding a gun. I heard a great crash and then more glass breaking as the spits of automatic gunfire inside and outside of the house reached my ears as I dropped to the floor and rolled.
The very idea of a bunch of dead cartel guys bleeding all over Joshua’s floors was vile. I hated that Candy was right that Joshua’s ID had been somehow relayed to a cartel hit squad bent on coming here to destroy him and his family. All I wanted to do was see them alive and safe. All my training seemed to bleed out of me as I waited impatiently, hating the sounds of automatic gunfire as hell rained down on the hit squad. I pictured the tiny Boston Terrier puppy, Garbanzo, crying in fear, and it enraged me. How dare these assholes prey on innocent people I’d eaten a meal with and begun to get to know and like.
All thoughts stopped for a brief second as my ears rang with the violence going on just beyond the closed door as the lighthearted conversation at dinner came rushing back to me.
“Joshua, I think Garbanzo has to make a poo. He looks concert baited,” Pete said.
I chuckled as Joshua burst into laughter. “Concert baited, Petey?”
Pete lowered his voice, giving his brother a dirty look. “Don’t call me Petey, Joshua. Nash is gonna think I’m a baby,” the little boy hissed.
Joshua grinned. “I’m sorry. I won’t call you that again, Pete.”
“Thank you, and just so you know, that puppy is about to burst!”
