He leaned further in and checked beneath the seats just in case it had slipped down the side. Nothing. He was just about to get out when he heard a loud crash coming from the house. Jack sprinted into the house and dashed to the living room to find the curtains blowing in the breeze and glass everywhere.
Garcia was still in the chair, but it had tipped backwards and his head slumped to one side. Brain matter was on the tiling and he was now sporting a dark bullet wound.
Jack grasped his Glock tight and pulled back to the wall.
His heart hammered in his chest.
As he pressed against the wall and slid up to take a look he heard the sound of tires squealing and saw a band of yellow flash across the house.
He cut the corner and saw a muscle car swerve out.
Not wasting another second, he rushed into the kitchen and scooped up the keys from the bowl and headed into the garage to fire up the sedan. He didn’t search for a garage door opener. Jack jammed the gearstick into reverse and smashed his boot against the accelerator. The wheels spun sending up smoke as the vehicle plowed into the door tearing it away from all that held it in place. Jack flipped the lights on and backed out at a high rate of speed only to swerve at the last second and slam the gear into drive.
The muscle car’s red taillights were still visible but growing smaller by the second.
Jack gunned the engine and tore away up the road. Homes shot by in his peripheral vision until he was out of the area heading northwest into a desolate area of desert. As hard as Jack tried to catch up to the muscle car it just had way more under the hood. It also didn’t help that once they hit the desert the suspension in the sedan made it feel like he was in a moon buggy. Although he tried to close the distance it eventually became too great. He slammed the brakes on and smashed the steering wheel. He was so close to finding out who was behind it. The red taillights disappeared into the night and he did a U-turn and headed back. He would do one more sweep of the house for the phone and then bounce.
Unfortunately that wouldn’t happen.
By the time he made it back to Garcia’s home, he could see red and blue lights flashing. He brought the car to a crawl, switched off the headlights and backed into the nearest driveway. There he dumped the vehicle and headed off on foot.
Who was behind Dana’s abduction?
Where was she?
What was the priest’s involvement?
And who had taken out Garcia?
There were still so many unanswered questions.
But at least he had one lead — the priest.
Jack broke into a jog, which soon became a fast run. His mind was consumed with questions. Uncovering the truth took precedence over everything else, including the fight he was meant to be at that night. Tyson would have to wait. If Garcia had been taken out, would the priest be next?
Chapter 20
Tyson looked at his phone again waiting for a reply to his text messages. He’d tried phoning Jack but it went straight to voicemail. Where the hell was he? The fight was meant to start ten minutes ago and Pope was furious. The underground fight that night was set in the middle of a wrecker’s yard on the outskirts of the city. Stacks of crumpled, rusted metal loomed overhead like discarded towers in a post-apocalyptic city. Tyson had managed to hold off Pope as long as he could, promising him that Jack would show, but now it looked like he’d have to break that.
Pope stepped forward. “He’s had long enough! You know how much this has cost me tonight?”
“Put me in with him,” Tyson spat out. “I’ll take his place.”
“You?” Pope chuckled and looked at Spike, then back at Tyson, scanning him.
“That crowd out there will go berserk if you don’t give them a fight.”
Pope rolled his lower lip beneath his teeth, considering it.
“These men will chew you up,” Pope said. “But sure, you want to fight, step on up.” He stepped back and Tyson glanced at his phone again. He’d seen these fighters on the circuit. They were no joke. He was confident in his abilities but even he knew his limits. Pope had arranged that evening for Jack to fight three men, one after the other. He wanted to apply pressure and see what kind of stamina he had, he wanted to see if he was up for the challenge of fighting in Albuquerque.
Few got past this stage, and those that did were usually out of commission for two months with severe injuries. That was the thing about the fight circuit, it didn’t get any easier the further you progressed—it got harder. The fighters were better. The risks were higher but then so were the rewards. Tyson removed his jacket and limbered up doing a few stretches. Carla, who had been giving him the cold shoulder since he’d caught her flirting with another man, noticed and eyed him through the crowd but didn’t approach. He wasn’t doing this for her, or even for Jack. This was for Nicky, for his mother, and deep down, for himself. He’d been waiting over a year for the opportunity. He had to know if he had it in him to be the best. As he stepped into the midst of the angry mob who jostled for the best position, he swallowed hard and glanced at his phone one final time before handing it to a friend of his.
“Let’s go to war!”
The crowd went wild as Tyson’s opponent charged forward.
Chapter 21
A crescent moon and thousands of pinpricks in the night’s canopy illuminated
