Chapter 28
The staccato thumping of rap music poured out the door and slammed every building in the alley. Nathan slid past Grangeland and kicked the door.
The man on the other side flew backward as its metal surface hammered his face. The handgun he’d been holding clattered away.
Nathan rushed inside with Harv and Grangeland on his six. He sensed Harv boot the door and heard it slam closed.
Blood gushing from his destroyed nose, the man tried to get up.
Nathan pistol-whipped him, the impact loud and wet. Door man went limp and collapsed to the concrete floor. It wasn’t Montez.
He caught movement on his right.
Another man.
Running. Right to left. Without a shirt. Short. Muscular. Heavy gold chains flopped as he sprinted across the room. Also not Montez.
“I’ve got him,” Harv said.
Nathan watched a red dot form on the running man’s hip.
Harv’s Sig spit flame.
Gold chains tumbled. The wounded man howled and clasped a hand on his left hip.
A third man sitting on a sofa directly in front of them lunged for a handgun on a coffee table.
They fired simultaneously.
Two red holes replaced two red dots, both in roughly the same location, upper right shoulder. Sofa man fell back and cursed in Spanish.
Nathan felt it more than he saw it.
A fourth threat. From above.
Second floor. Far corner of the warehouse. A man stood on a railed walkway, leveling an assault rifle.
Montez? No choice. Fractions of seconds mattered. He painted his laser center mass, and fired.
The man jerked at the same instant his rifle discharged.
The bullets impacted high and right, but the sound was deafening in the enclosed space. Grangeland bent over and protected her eyes as chunks of concrete rained down.
Harv sent a second bullet and scored a hit. The man slumped forward and cartwheeled over the rail. Cranium and metal smacked the concrete at the same time, the sounds indistinguishable.
They moved deeper into the warehouse, scanning for additional threats. None appeared.
That damned noise had to go. Nathan placed the laser on the stereo cabinet against the side wall and fired. The glass imploded and the music died with a static thump. Thirteen rounds left. Harv also had thirteen.
“Grangeland, cover our six. I’m on gold chains,” he said and rushed forward to the squirming man.
He knew Harv would advance to sofa man’s position because door man was either unconscious or dead. In less than ten seconds, they’d overpowered and neutralized four hardened mercenaries.
He pointed his Sig at gold chains’ head and said, “On your belly.”
“You jus’ shot me,” the man wailed. “You fuckin’ shot me, man!”
“I’m impressed with your powers of observation. Get on your belly
Cursing, gold chains rolled over.
That’s when he noticed the bandaged finger stump.
Nathan kept his head up, put a knee on Julio’s back, and leaned on it. The wounded man grunted and cursed again.
He looked over and saw Harv clock his mark. Hard. Sofa man’s arms went limp and his head lolled back.
“Grangeland, secure that downed man. We haven’t cleared our perimeter or those offices on the far side yet. Stay sharp.”
She handcuffed door man’s hands behind his back.
“Grangeland, I need you over here. Keep your head up. I thought I heard something near the offices.”
Gun up and hunched over, she advanced to his position and knelt.
“Duct tape. My belly pack.”
She removed the roll and taped Julio’s wrists.
“Get his ankles too.”
There it was again. A muffled whimper.
“I heard it,” Grangeland said. “It could be the kidnapped woman.”
He motioned toward the sofa. “Secure Harv’s man.”
The sound got louder, emanating from the dark corner of the room where balcony man had fallen.
Harv kept sweeping the warehouse with his gun as Grangeland yanked sofa man forward and taped his wrists. He moaned, but didn’t resist. She also taped his ankles.
Nathan spoke quietly. “Harv, this is our fingerless friend from the attack in Clairemont.”
Harv looked at the bandaged stump. “Maybe we’ll give him a matched set.”
Julio became defiant, squirming like a worm on hot asphalt. “I need a fuckin’ doctor, man!”
Nathan locked eyes, toggled his laser, and painted it on the man’s nose.
Julio’s eyes crossed on the red dot. “Okay. Okay, be cool, man.”
He grabbed Julio’s shirt and hauled him over to the sofa. He did the same for door man, but also checked for a carotid pulse. Faint, but present.
The center of the warehouse had been converted into a living room of sorts. On three sides, black leather couches surrounded a coffee table hosting sofa man’s gun, several electronic remotes, and two cell phones. A small LCD TV sat atop an end table with a muted pornographic movie playing. He grabbed the TV remote and turned it off. Overhead, every fourth fluorescent fixture offered dull illumination. Most of the interior remained in deep shadow.
Julio couldn’t, or wouldn’t, stay quiet. “I’m bleeding bad here!”
Without warning, Nathan swung his pistol. The suppressor caught Julio’s left brow.
A red bead crept down the side of Julio’s head and found his ear. He laid all three captives out like cordwood and taped all their mouths except door man’s. With a destroyed nasal cavity, he’d suffocate with his mouth covered. Next, he taped all their feet together into one bundle.
“Grangeland, you’ve got them. We’re going to clear the warehouse. Your threat area is from here to the front door.”
“Copy.”
“Harv, on my six.”
They moved back to the front door and began traversing the perimeter wall. Several dozen pallets of boxes were stacked three high along the wall, too tightly placed for anyone to hide among. A battery powered forklift occupied the southwest corner, currently plugged in for a recharge. The offices were straight ahead in the southeast corner and occupied an area roughly ten feet wide by forty feet long. All the windows were dark, except upstairs. A narrow staircase served the second floor.
Nathan kept his laser painted on balcony man’s prone form as they approached, but he detected no movement. Unconscious or dead.
They both heard it again, a horrible mewling sound.
“That could be Montez. Cover me.”
Harv hugged the wall and kept his gun pointed at the office windows.
He kept his Sig trained at the dark figure as he approached and knelt down. No pulse. Not surprising, his white tank top wasn’t white any more. He looked at Harv and shook his head. Not Montez. They traversed to the corner of the offices.
