Luis swore under his breath again as the man stepped toward the cabin. For a brief moment he considered that the man may have been a player when these cabrónes were destroying everything that the cartel had built. Could he have been the one responsible for Teresa’s death?
The man pulled his sunglasses off and slowly approached the cabin again. Luis watched him reach into his overcoat and retrieve a pistol. Whoever he was, if he intended to rob them of their righteous kill, he was sadly mistaken.
Luis was about to stand and bark at the man when Hector pointed frantically. “They are running!”
Luis’ head snapped around and, for a brief moment, he wasn’t sure what to do. He glanced back and barely caught a glimpse of the man as he dove behind the ruined black SUV.
“Dammit.” He spun and yelled to Hector, “Kill them!”
Fernando smiled as he stood from behind the rock outcropping and leveled his weapon. “To HELL with you!”
Bridger gave DJ a two count then fought the urge to twist out into the daylight. No shots were fired as the man sprinted through the trees. He watched DJ leap over a short stump then slide towards the fire pit and roll into it as though he were sliding into second base.
He looked to Gregg, who could only shrug. Both men scanned the narrow angles on either side of the door and wasn’t sure whether to be shocked or excited that there was no gunfire. He glanced out at the fire pit and watched as DJ’s head popped up, confusion evident as he looked around.
Bridger quickly waved him on. “Go! Keep running!”
He could just make out a yell from the right and he ducked low, scanning the trees as DJ put more distance between himself and the shooters.
When the first rounds were fired, Bridger dove out of the door and rolled, his eyes forced wide as he looked for any sign of the shooter. He continued his roll and came up on one knee, his barrel leveled at a man with a thick mustache and a camel hair coat firing wildly in DJ’s direction.
Bridger brought the red dot scope to bear and fired three rounds. Two to the chest and one to the head. The pink mist that surrounded the shooter before he fell verified the shots were good.
He glanced to his left and saw Gregg lying prone on the ground. His weapon barked three times and he heard a distinct curse. “Dammit!”
Bridger continued to scan the area on the east side of the cabin as Gregg scrambled to his feet and slammed hard into the trunk of an overgrown pine. “I missed.”
Bridger eased back toward the cabin as Gregg spun to either side of the tree, peppering the area where the other shooter was. Pieces of tree bark exploded on either side of him as he rolled right, then left, doing his best to keep the shooter occupied.
Bridger slid along the back edge of the cabin and chanced a quick glance in the direction of the shooter. He saw a man in a black leather jacket popping up and firing from behind a rock outcrop. He nodded to Gregg then readied himself. As Gregg rolled to the opposite side of the tree, he presented a slight, but visible target. Bridger rolled around the edge of the cabin and leveled his Sig.
Two quick shots later and the second shooter was down. “Clear.” Bobby raised the barrel of the carbine and scanned the trees while Gregg dropped low and scanned the area behind him.
They could hear gunshots from the front of the cabin and both men turned and made for the interior again. After a quick glance at the room, it became obvious that neither Mauk nor Lisa were exchanging fire with the other shooters.
“Sitrep,” Bridger barked.
Mauk shook his head slowly. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say that was Laughlin out there.”
“Shooting at us?” Bridger stormed through the cabin and eased in close to the window.
“Negative,” Lisa replied. “It looks like he’s holding off another shooter.”
Matt Laughlin closed the door to the Jeep and looked around the small cabin. It looked more like an oversized tool shed than a vacation rental. He pulled his cell phone out once more and double checked.
“Fuck me,” he muttered. He tossed the useless device back into the Jeep through the window then turned for the front door.
He might have been rusty as a field agent, but his eyes caught the off-color of the multiple small holes sprayed across the front of the building. His hand instinctively pulled his overcoat back and gripped his Sig P226. As he pulled the weapon he noted the passenger side tires of the SUV were flat and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end.
He heard a heavily accented voice screaming that somebody was running, then another, closer voice screaming to kill them all.
Laughlin needed no invitation.
He dove for the ground and did his best to use the SUV as a barricade as bullets began to fly. He rolled toward the front of the SUV and leaned back against the front wheel as the heavy “thump-thump-thump” of bullets striking the metal body reverberated into his spine.
He held his weapon close to his chest and tried to take in the situation. He was effectively pinned down with shooters on either side of him and another directly behind him.
He heard the heavy bark of a carbine echo through the forest and prayed that his curiosity hadn’t just gotten him killed. He squeezed his eyes shut then leaned to the side, peering from under the black truck, searching for any kind of target to shoot at.
The angle that the truck body sat at made it nearly impossible to see up into the hills beyond where the shooters were obviously stationed. He cursed to himself and rolled
