Aim And Fire

punk’s hand.

Sweeping his flashlight over the dirty nightstand, Nate spotted Lopez’s cell phone. He dropped the light and swept the phone into his pocket.

“Get up if you want to keep breathing.” Using the gun as a prod, he guided Lopez out of bed and over the unconscious man he had used as a battering ram.

In the hallway, Tracy covered the doorways with her flashlight, making sure no one poked his head out. Nate removed his gun and whipped his arm around Lopez’s neck. “Tell your homies to stay put—otherwise, we shoot the first face we see.” He nodded at Tracy to check the stairs, and she slipped by them to cover the landing.

Lopez relayed Nate’s instructions, more loudly than Nate would have liked. “Whoever you are, you’re a dead man, pendejo. I’ll hold your fucking heart in my hand before this is over,” he growled.

“Move it,” Nate said. Keeping the pistol jammed into the gang leader’s neck, he moved past the doors, making sure to keep the man between him and other rooms at all times. Tracy was halfway down the stairs when she seemed to slip just as a flash and boom roared from the living room, chopping the banister to kindling and making her grunt in pain.

“Out the back, now!” Nate shouted. He forced Lopez down the stairway, catching up to his partner. “You all right?”

“Caught some pellets—in my vest. I’ll be fine,” Tracy said, wincing.

“Watch our backs.” Nate tightened his hold on the wiry man’s throat. “Tell them to drop their guns and slide ’em over, or I’ll redecorate the hallway with your brains,” he told Lopez.

Lopez issued rapid orders in Spanish, and moments later a short-barreled shotgun and two pistols came clattering down the hallway.

“Let’s go.” Nate kept Lopez in the hallway, blocking the other gang members’ views of him and Tracy. “Get the door.”

Keeping her right arm near her side, Tracy went to the door and cracked it open, leading with her pistol before opening it all the way. “We’re clear.”

Nate kicked all three guns out into the yard. He turned to Lopez. “All right, we get outside, and you run like hell with us. If you don’t, I blow your elbow out, and you still run like hell. Got it?”

Lopez hesitated, then nodded once. Nate looked at Tracy, who nodded.

“Go!”

Tracy took off into the darkness. Nate gave her three steps, then shoved Lopez out and followed right behind him, keeping a tight hold on the gangbanger as they ran.

The backyard was only about ten yards from the door to the other house, but it felt like the longest distance Nate had ever covered in his life. Even though they had taken out the roof guard, and the guys in the hall would have to fumble around to find their weapons, the gang would not take this lying down. And as he expected, just as they hit the alley between the two houses, gunshots exploded in the night.

Nate hunched instinctively, expecting to feel the impact of a bullet in his back at any second. Adrenaline- charged blood pounded in his ears, making it difficult to pinpoint where the shots were coming from. He saw Tracy racing for the truck, and followed her as fast as he could, propelling Lopez in front of him with hard prods of his pistol.

They burst out from between the two houses and headed for the vehicle, their shoes slapping against the pavement. Lopez stumbled and went down hard, shouting in pain as he skidded across the pavement, almost taking Nate with him.

“Get up right now!” Nate grabbed his shoulder, trying to get his prisoner off the street.

“Fuck you, asshole. I think I broke my ankle!” Lopez rolled back and forth, clutching his lower left leg. Nate glanced back to see lights and motion in the alleyway. The truck roared to life a few yards away. Leveling his pistol at the alleyway, he squeezed off several shots, making the approaching gangbangers duck and cover.

The truck roared as it powered over the curb to skid to a stop next to him. Tracy rolled the passenger window down. “For Christ’s sake, get him in here and let’s go!”

Nate was already moving. Wrenching open the back door, he hauled Lopez up and threw him into the backseat, then scrambled in himself. “Go!”

Tracy slammed the gas and spun the steering wheel, making the Silverado buck and sway as it ran over the curb again.

“Take the second street on your right!” Nate said while prying Lopez’s hand away from his ankle and raising it to where he could handcuff him to a restraining bar set in the ceiling. The truck skidded as she took the turn a bit too fast, making Nate fall into Lopez as the big vehicle rocked back and forth. Behind them, they heard the loud pop of gunfire, but no bullets struck them.

“Go up two blocks and turn left on Seventh!” Nate began patting Tracy down, his hands roaming over her sides, back and chest.

“What the hell are you doing?” She tried to shrug him off as she whipped the wheel to the left.

“Seeing how badly you got shot, dammit!” Under her legs, his probing fingers found something soft and mushy.

“Shit, did that hurt?”

“No, but it feels kinda wet and warm. Why, what’d you find?” Tracy, while still breathing hard, had slowed the vehicle down to a respectable speed while keeping an eye open for police cruisers.

“I don’t know—it’s too thick to be blood.” Nate held his fingers up to his nose. “Refried beans—what the hell?”

He felt Tracy’s body shake in her seat, and for a panicked moment he thought she was going into shock. But as she drew breath, he realized she was laughing—tinged with just a hint of hysteria, but laughing all the same.

“Must have been that huge burrito. I slipped on it when I went down the stairs. Just as the shotgun went off. Damn thing saved my life.”

Already strung out by their narrow escape, Nate sat back and guffawed at the ludicrous thought. “Saved by Mexican food. Who’d have thunk it?”

Tracy’s mirth had subsided and she looked back at Nate.

“I think I’m all right—we can check later. I’ve got a T-intersection coming up—which way?”

Shaking his head, Nate pointed. “Hang a right on Oregon, and we’ll head up to Missouri, where we can get on the highway.” Still chuckling, he kept a close watch behind them as they sped through the dimly lit streets with their prize.

Holy shit, it’s a good thing Paul can’t see me now, Tracy thought as she drove the Silverado through the neighborhoods of north El Paso. He’d probably think I’ve gone completely insane.

She blinked rapidly, trying to slow her racing pulse. Her senses were on input overload. Everything around her— from the flashing traffic lights to the oncoming cars to the hum of the off-road tires as they propelled the truck down the streets—seemed preternaturally sharp and bright and loud. She took a deep breath, held it for a second, then let it whoosh out of her lungs. She took another one, and felt her pulse begin to slow.

She had lost count of the laws they had broken. She concentrated on their goal of getting the information they needed to make sure that nuke didn’t go off. She told herself if that meant busting the chops of some low-life gang members who were already breaking half a dozen laws when they got out of bed every morning, that was a trade- off she could live with.

Besides, the rush she had gotten when they had infiltrated the house and pulled Lopez out had given her a jolt that no amount of DHS training could. She had gone through the basic firearms training at the Federal Law Enforcement Training Center, and she shot at the range at least twice a month to stay current, but that couldn’t compare to creeping through the pitch-black house using only night vision, but still feeling completely in control of the situation. Even when it had started to go bad, she hadn’t freaked out, but had stayed focused on the mission. She hadn’t held them up during their withdrawal. Maybe it’s time to consider a different assignment when I get back, something more field oriented.

But first we’ve got to find out what this scumbag knows.

Checking the rearview mirror, she saw Nate keeping an eye on Lopez, who was hunched over as best he could with his arm restrained, his head leaning against the window. “He all right? He might be going into shock,” she