Footsteps close in again, and I crack one eyelid, watching a pair of scuffed cowboy boots stride between us. The owner of the boots pauses, stretches out one leg, and nudges my shoulder with his toe. He does the same to Maddox, snorts, then wanders off, muttering something about faggots as he disappears. I open my eyes and Maddox is already rolling over, hooking his arms beneath his ass to bring his hands to the front. He grabs the loose end of his zip tie in his teeth, pulling tight. Then with two sharp swings, the bindings snap, and he scuttles toward the stack of crates, huddling at the edge and peering carefully around the corner.
I use the same trick to break my bonds and join him a moment later. A sudden, pain-laden howl erupts from somewhere behind that doorway and we both flinch. The noise didn’t sound like a woman, so I hope to God that means they didn’t grab Celeste, but the only other person unaccounted for is J.J. Maddox shoots me a stricken look and nausea roils in my gut.
The thugs on guard are scary fuckers in black who look like mercenaries, which is to say Maddox would probably fit right in. He eyes the one who appears the most alert—and the most dangerous. He’s big and stocky, with a handgun secured in a tactical holster strapped to his thigh. These aren’t typical street muscle. They’re older, seasoned, and probably aren’t people we really want to fuck with while barefoot in nothing but boxers, but we don’t exactly have a choice.
Maddox makes a hand motion to me, silently demonstrating a takedown maneuver on the big guy with the gun, who is making a circuit back toward us. I glance down at his boots, recognizing them as the ones that nudged me earlier. He turns toward the hangar door, stalking over and peering out the window. Maddox takes the opportunity to dart behind the pickup truck and hide, and I crouch down and wait, intending to flank the man once he comes back this way to check on us.
His footsteps grow louder, and I crouch at the ready. He rounds the front of the truck and stops. The second he sees the spot where Maddox and I should be, he lets out a yell and reaches for his gun. Maddox and I leap from two directions. He hauls the man into a choke hold, dragging him back behind the truck while I grab his gun and dive back behind the crates. I peek out at Maddox, who holds tight to the man’s throat for a few seconds until he goes limp, but the others are already running our way.
I fire from behind the crates and the men scatter, leaping for cover. One lands behind a row of barrels and Maddox darts from behind the truck to his hiding place, taking him by surprise. He slams the man’s head into the concrete floor and disarms him, then checks the magazine of his pistol, pulling it out, then shoving it back in with a snap. His cold, calculating focus is the same when he tattoos, yet in this environment, the efficiency of his actions are evidence of his years spent in combat situations. I doubt I can measure up to that level of discipline, but despite my less formal upbringing, I have enough training to hold my own in a fight.
I peek out from behind my cover. The other thugs are hiding, but at least Mad Dog and I are both armed now. He catches my attention from across the hangar with a shrill whistle, then makes a series of hand signals, indicating for me to cover him while he makes his way to the door where the sounds are coming from. I nod and ready my gun.
Two men lurk just within the shadows in the doorway he’s aiming for, guns drawn. I lift my gun and aim, firing a shot into the doorjamb. Wood splinters fly, and the shot has the desired effect. One man peeks out, then leans farther and takes a shot in my direction. I duck and the shot pings off the wall behind me. Another shot rings out and I steal a look in time to see the shooter drop like a stone, blood soaking through his shirt just beneath his armpit.
The other man doesn’t make a move, and Maddox slips to the outer wall of the door, then inside.
“Vaya con Dios,” I whisper. I hunch low as another shot hits the corner of my hiding spot. Assuming the two men inside the door were part of the group, that only leaves two more still conscious and hiding in cover out here.
I take stock of the surroundings. Not many places to take cover, but I need to move, preferably without being seen. In a perfect world, I’d make it into that office to back Maddox up. Gustavo’s in there somewhere, I have no doubt, and I don’t want to miss when my boy Mad Dog takes him out. I’d like my own chance to put a bullet in that fucker’s skull too.
I raise the gun and fire wide, aiming in the general direction where the shots at me originated. As I fire, I run in a crouch to the pickup where Maddox took down the first guy. He’s still out cold, but the shiny corner of his phone peeks out from his pocket and I grab it. I start to dial as I move at a crouch, hoping to follow the same path Maddox took and get to him.
Celeste answers on the first ring and I sag with relief. “Celeste. Thank God,” I whisper.
“Leo! Baby, are you okay? Where the hell are you?”
I make it to the barrels where the other unconscious man lies and pause to answer. “Not sure. An airport, I think. Gustavo has J.J. Mad Dog’s going after him. Where are you?”
“I’m at
