“English,” Onyx seethed. Frustrated, he backhanded her across the face. She fell back, her lip bleeding. Looking up, the barrel of a gun was shoved against her forehead. She could feel the ice cold of the metal and could smell the sulfuric scent of gunpowder. “Search the rest of this place,” he yelled to his men. He then addressed Carmelita. “If they find anyone, your dead.”
Carmelita was dragged downstairs and tossed on the couch. The big man grabbed a dining room chair and straddled it. He kept the gun aimed at her and used what little Spanish he knew. “¿Cuál es su nombre?
Hearing him ask her what her name was in Spanish, she answered. “Carmelita.”
He seemed to ignore her as he peered around the room. Spotting a photo on the wall, he stood up, ripped it down, and shoved it in her face. “Who is this?”
Carmelita glanced at the picture of Sin and her sitting on the beach, played dumb, and shrugged.”
Onyx tapped the picture of Sin with his finger hard enough to crack the glass, and spit, “Who?”
Carmelita shook. “Mi hija,” she trembled.”
“Daughter,” Onyx grinned. “The Angel of Death is your daughter.” He tossed the photo on the couch, threw is head back, and laughed.
His men returned telling him the place was empty.
“It doesn’t matter, he said, grabbing Carmelita by the arm and jerking her off the couch. “I have all I need, right here.”
44
Sin waited for Carmelita’s signal that everyone was okay, but it never came. She hobbled into the backroom and reached for a box that sat on top of a tool chest, opened it and found a pair of her old jeans.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing,” Deb said, now standing behind her.
“There’s trouble at the Johnson place.”
“What? How do you know?”
By now, everyone was awake and listening. “I received a call from Frank. Somehow, Savio figured out where he was and sent a text to a 561 area code.”
“So,” Deb said.
“So, that’s the West Palm Beach area code, the home turf for the Black 6 gang. I think he told Onyx where he was. I called Carmelita and told her to get the girls and head to the saferoom in the basement.” She grimaced as she pulled the skin-tight jeans over her bandaged leg. “She knew to contact me as soon as they were safe. I never got the call.” She pulled the jeans up over her hips, fastened the button, and limped out of the room. She reached into the saddlebags of her bike and removed her gunbelt.
“You’re in no condition to go anywhere,” Deb said, standing in front of her.
“Sin, she’s right,” Troy added. “I’ll call in backup and head over there. You need to stay here.”
Sin shouldered past Deb and bit her lip as she threw her injured leg over the saddle of her Panhead. Not having much use of her quadriceps muscle, she jumped up and dropped all her weight onto the starter arm of the bike. With a quick twist of the throttle, she smoked the back tire and squealed out of the hangar.
“Shit,” Troy yelled as he ran for his truck. As he slammed the driver’s side door shut, the passenger side door did the same.
Danny nodded. “Let’s move.”
Troy slammed his foot on the gas and raced after Sin.
Reaching the Johnson place, Troy spotted Sin’s bike. He then noticed the bullet holes in the busted front door.
Danny pulled his MP7 from his hip holster, drew back the slide, jumped from the truck, and ran up the stairs behind Troy.
Entering the house, Troy spotted Sin hobbling toward the grand-staircase to the upper floors of the mansion . “Sin.” She ignored him and kept shuffling. He ran and caught up to her, grabbed her by the shoulder, and spun her around. “Damn it, Sin. Stop.” He could see the sheen of sweat covering her face. He wasn’t sure if it was the humidity or the pain, but he guessed the latter. “Let us help you.”
Too weak to argue, Sin nodded. “Check the upper floors.”
“Where are you headed?” Troy asked.
“Basement. Safe-room.”
Troy nodded. “Be careful.”
Sin saw Troy and Danny run up the stairs through her peripheral vision as she headed down the stairs. Entering the grand ballroom, she crossed the expansive room, leaning on a large dining table for support. Spotting the large painting of old man Johnson, Sin slid her fingers under the frame and exhaled a sigh of relief when she felt a keypad. Typing in the security code, the wall in front of her popped open revealing the safe-room.
Sin saw Becca and Maria huddled in the far corner of the room. They looked shaken but unharmed.
“Where’s Carmelita?” Sin said.
Maria scurried to her feet and ran into her arms, rattling in Spanish. “She told us not to open the door for anyone. She said she would be right back. Where is she?” By the time the last word left her lips, Maria was bawling.
Sin squatted down, her broken ribs sending jolts of pain up her spine and into her chest. She squeezed her eyes shut and breathed in through her nose. Opening her eyes, she shook off the pain. “Don’t worry, we’ll find her.”
Sin glanced at Becca who was still huddled in the corner. She’s in shock. PTSD, Sin thought. “Becca,” she said, “look at me.” Becca just stared at the floor. Sin let go of Maria and limped over to Becca. Squatting in front of her, she placed her hand under Becca’s chin and lifted her head. “Becca, do you know who I am?”
Becca nodded.
“Do you trust me?”
Again, she nodded.
“Take my hand.”
Sin stood; Becca clutching her hand for dear life. Sin held Maria’s hand in her other and headed out of the safe-room across the ballroom and up the stairs.
45
“All clear,” Danny said as he entered the kitchen.
Sin noticed Becca start to shake when she looked at him. Her eyes were wide open and glued to his gun, but it looked as
