He dragged Carmelita out of the closet and across the room and tossed her like a rag-doll onto the floor, using her body to bar the door. “If the angel comes, she’ll kill you trying to get in.”
59
By the time Sin reached the corner of Dixie and Palm Beach Lakes, Shea and his men were off their bikes and in a gunfight with the Black 6.
“Snipers,” she said, ducking behind the corner of a building, “what do you see?”
“It will be hard to get a clean shot,” Wilson said. “Too many people in the skirmish. Guns, knives, fists everywhere.”
“Just waiting on your word, Boss Lady,” Garcia said. “They’re pouring out of the front doors like ants at a picnic.”
“Bravo, where are you?” Sin said.
“Engaging from the southside. These little bastards have no idea what they’re doing. They’re just rapid-firing those automatic weapons.”
“Fuck,” she heard Shea say in her ear piece. “We’re getting rained on from above. The bastard just shot two of ours and three of his own.”
“Danny?” Sin said. “You copy?”
“Ten-four.”
“Do you have eyes on the vulture Shea is talking about?”
“I see him. Just waiting on him to poke his head over the lip of the roof.”
“Take him out,” Sin ordered.
“Ten-four.”
Seconds later, Sin heard the sound of an incoming shell. The sound only made by a fifty-caliber sniper rifle.
“Bird is down, repeat, bird is down,” Danny said.
“Shea, I want all your men to stay down and stop shooting, you read? I need you to disengage.”
“I hear ya but that’s suicide.”
“Just do it.”
“Sin, you heard what Shea—”
Sin waved Frank off. “Snipers, bravo, as soon as Shea and his guys give you a little space between us and them, take out the hostiles.”
Sin and Frank waited behind the side of a building until the gunfire was at a minimum to make their final approach. From their right, they spotted one of the Black 6 gang in the middle of the road, spraying bullets in all directions.
About to engage with the enemy, Sin heard a familiar voice behind her. It was the little girl and her mom. “Damn it.”
“Get them out of danger, I’ll handle the gunman,” Frank yelled as he bolted from cover.
Sin ran back in the direction she came, took a bullet in her side, stumbled, fell, got back up, and kept running. She dove and tackled the mom and girl as bullets flew overhead. “Stay down!” She yelled.
The mother screamed.
The girl cried.
Lying on top of the duo, she turned to see Frank run across the street. She saw him pull his M7 from his hip and run into an oncoming assault. Her heart was in her throat as she saw him get hit. “Stay down,” She yelled at the tourists. “As soon as the gunfire stops,” Sin pointed to her right, “run behind that building.”
She pulled herself off the street and turned her attention to Frank. Both he and the gunman were down, scrambling to get back up. Running toward them, she drew her forty-five, took aim, and dropped the gunman before he got off his knees.
“Cover me, Garcia,” she said as she lifted Frank off the street and fireman-carried him behind a large dumpster. Sliding him off her shoulders, his eyes were closed, his complexion chalky. She slapped him across the face. “Frank, can you hear me?”
He nodded. “I’m okay,” he grunted.
“Can you make it to the yacht club?”
He opened his eyes and nodded again and tried to push her away. His hands came back red with blood. Her blood. “I can, but I’m not going anywhere. You’re just as hurt worse than I am. “Let’s finish what we started.”
“Snipers, I need an update.”
“All’s quiet from my view,” Garcia said.
“Ditto,” Wilson said.
“Ten-four,” she heard Danny say.
She looked at the target. “There are still men on the inside,” she said as she heard sirens approach. “Cover Shea’s men as they retreat. Repeat, cover Shea’s men.
“Shea, I need you and all your men to get the hell out of there before the cops arrive. Is everyone okay to ride?”
“Yeah, but we’re not going anywhere,” Shea said.
“You’ll do as I say, and you’ll do it now. Scatter and meet me back at the airport.”
She watched as Shea and the Outlaws scrambled from their cover, jumped on their bikes, and rode away from the scene. Her snipers took care of anyone who dared try and stop them.
Cruisers poured in from all sides. Doors opened, cops took their position behind them.
“Frank, I need you to call off the dogs. Can you do that?”
Frank answered by getting up and pulling his creds from his pocket. He raised his hands and stumbled across the street, yelling, FBI. She watched as he had a heated exchange which ended with him being cuffed and thrown up against a cruiser. She was about to run and help him when she spotted a PBSO pick-up truck come to screeching halt in front of the cruiser. Sergeant Glenn and one of his men jumped out and took control of the situation. Frank was uncuffed and fell to the ground.
She ran across the street, holding her side as an ambulance from the hospital arrived on scene. “Stop,” she yelled at the paramedics. Everyone stopped in their tracks and turned toward her. “Take him to the yacht club.”
“What!” a paramedic yelled. “This man is bleeding from a gunshot. I don’t think he’s up for a midnight boat ride.”
“Do as she says,” Glenn said. “Now.”
The medic shook his head. “It’s your badge, not mine.”
Sin grabbed some gauze and tape from one of the medics and lifted her shirt. “I could use a little help.” The medic suppressed her bleeding, shot her up with some antibiotics and taped her wound. She went over to the stretcher and smiled at Frank. “Deb will take care of you.” She turned when she heard footsteps running up from behind. Fletcher and Bravo were now by her side. “Stubbs, go with
