He waited a moment, and during a lull in the shooting, threw himself up and used the hood of the truck to support his firing hand. He fired into the woods, praying that if he couldn’t hit the shooter, he could at least cause him to reveal his position.
He caught movement from the corner of his eye and was able to locate the shooter’s position as the man dove behind a tree. Laughlin could only assume he was changing magazines and hadn’t realized that the shooting behind the cabin had ceased.
He fired two rounds into the bark of the tree on the left side then planted the blade of his front sights on the right side. A moment later a man in a dark blue sport coat stepped out and Matt emptied his magazine.
He couldn’t be certain that the man was hit, but he fell down rather than slipping back behind cover.
He ejected his own magazine and swapped a fresh one in its place. He slowly slid down the hood of the SUV, his weapon shakily covering the area where the shooter had been.
“Laughlin?”
He spun and leveled his weapon on a familiar face. He felt a huge weight lift from his shoulders and his weapon fell to his side, his hand barely gripping it. “I never thought I’d be happy to see you again, Bridger.”
13
Southeastern Oklahoma
Bridger slapped the man hard across the cheek. Luis’ eyes flew open and he gasped, his eyes wide as he tried to take in his surroundings. The burning pain in his left shoulder instantly broke him into a heavy sweat, despite the temperature hovering at freezing.
“Wake up, asshole.” He smacked the man again on the other cheek and Luis tried to lean away from the large man.
“I’m awake.” Luis’ breaths were labored as he tried to regain control of himself. He groaned and set his jaw. “I thought certainly we had killed at least some of you.”
“You tried.” Bridger stood and nodded to Gregg.
“Why do you not simply kill me and be done with it?” Luis already knew the answer and he was determined that he would tell them nothing. He could feel the coarse ropes that bound him to the wooden chair and he wondered if he could break the chair in order to loosen his bindings.
The smaller man stepped into view and gave him a smile that did not reach his eyes. Gregg Soares leaned close and flashed a light in Luis’ eyes. “He’s good. We can interrogate him all we want.”
“Like it would matter,” Lisa muttered as she marched past, the hatred in her eyes flashing as she glared at Luis.
A tall man carrying a duffel walked slowly past Luis and he heard the distinct clank of metallic objects behind him as the bag was dropped to a table. “Should we start with minimal pain or go straight for the testicles?”
Bridger shrugged. “It’s up to Gregg. He’s the professional.”
The smaller man reappeared in Luis’ field of vision. He had donned a rubber apron and was snapping on heavy rubber gloves. “How big of a hurry are we in?”
Bridger shrugged. “How many more are you?” Luis squeezed his mouth tight and shook his head. Bridger chuckled then looked to Gregg. “Be quick, then, just in case.”
“I need to speak with you. It’s important,” Laughlin said, his hands still shaking.
Bridger stood and squared his shoulders. “You’re lucky I don’t let Lisa loose on you.”
Laughlin’s eyes cut across the room to the small-framed woman then darted back to Bridger. “First I need to know what the hell is going on here.”
Mauk strode past, his eyes boring a hole into Laughlin’s forehead. “Murillo is what’s going on here. He sent this damned hit squad after us.”
“And this isn’t the first,” Lisa seethed.
Laughlin held his hands up. “I know. I heard about what happened at your home.” He gave her an apologetic look. “I’m glad that nobody was hurt.”
“Nobody hurt?” Her anger flared. “My sister had never seen that kind of brutality before. Those kids will never be the—”
DJ pulled her back and shook his head. “He doesn’t really care.”
“Look guys. Murillo is dead.” He searched their faces. “He’s been dead since like ’99.”
Luis laughed a deep and hearty laugh. “His Ghost haunts you all!” He chuckled again, his head lolling to the side. “El Fantasma will have your hearts.”
Mauk gave Lisa a confused look. “El Fanta…?”
She shook her head, her eyes narrowing. “The Ghost.” She walked toward the hitman with purpose. She grabbed him by the jaw and held his head. “Who is this ghost?”
Luis laughed, drool running down his chin. “He will hunt you to the ends of the earth.” She let his face go and his head lolled to the side again.
Gregg sighed. “I may have given him a little too much sodium pentathol.” He picked up the vial and read the strength again. “Oops. Yeah. He’ll be dead pretty soon unless somebody has a portable ventilator.”
Bridger cursed under his breath. He grabbed Luis and shook him. “Tell me who sent you!”
Luis’ eyes opened slightly and he smiled. “El Fantasma. You are a dead man.” He began to laugh again and Bridger let him go.
“Can’t you shoot him up with adrenaline or something?”
Gregg shook his head. “This isn’t the 2.5% stuff. This is the stuff that they cut to make the lower dose stuff.” Gregg sighed. “I’m shocked he hasn’t stopped breathing already.” He sighed heavily. “Sorry Bridger. The print is just so small…”
“I’m sure he’s probably used to barbiturates, considering where he comes from and what he does,” Mauk grumbled.
Bridger slapped Luis hard again and shook him. “Why? Why now?” Luis’ head lolled to the side and another string of drool oozed out of the corner of his mouth. Bridger let him go then stood, stretching his back. “Great. DJ, you and Mauk make these bodies disappear. Gregg, find that jammer. It might come in handy. Lisa, go to the other cabins, collect our gear. We’re
