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It was also the playground of the Mexican Cartel, their members considered monsters, streaming in from the southern country to join in the crusade. At least that’s what the powerful, brutal leader had called his desire to rule as much of the city as possible. With him dead, my father would soon round up the man’s soldiers, exterminating them one by one. Would that provide hope to those living here? It shouldn’t matter to me in the least, the thought surprising.
Something was wrong, someone in the wrong place at the wrong time.
My hackles were raised, my heart racing. I had good instincts just like my father, which was one of the few compliments he’d given me while growing up. Everything else had to be earned, and he was a tough taskmaster. But tonight, I knew something was wrong.
Ivan took a step away from me, studying the area carefully as I’d done before. “I don’t see anything, kid. Krome krys i tarakanov.” His laugh was bitter, the phrase something I’d heard often.
Except for rats and cockroaches.
I continued listening, hearing nothing after a full minute. Maybe he was right. As he turned around, heading toward the armored SUV, I continued scanning the perimeter. Then I noticed a lone figure walking down the opposite side of the street. I immediately yanked my weapon into both hands, my heart thudding to the point the sound was echoing in my ears.
“We got trouble,” I said under my breath.
While the other two soldiers snorted from behind me, acting as if I had no fucking clue what I was talking about, the hair stood up on the back of my neck.
“La chica bamba,” one of the two men said, his term for recognizing a girl. Marco was the kind of asshole who didn’t like following me around, trying to keep me out of trouble. He made certain I understood his dislike of me every chance he had.
I craned my neck, trying to make out why he’d think that. As the lone figure passed under one of the few streetlights, I was able to get a slightly better look at her. Marco whistled as he moved in front of me, making lewd gestures as he always did.
From what I could tell, the girl was young, the sound Marco was making drawing her attention. She stopped walking, lifting her head and for a few seconds, our eyes connected even in the darkness and torrential rain. My God. She was just a child, no more than eight or nine, easy to tell by her clothes and small frame.
I found myself walking toward her for no particular reason, but I didn’t make it very far before headlights were flicked on coming from several directions. Shit. There was no doubt at least a dozen Tijuana Cartel soldiers had lain in wait, ready to avenge their leader’s death. The fuckers had surrounded us. Before anyone could react quickly enough, shots were fired, Marco catching the first bullets, the force tossing his body back and forth like a ragdoll. The fact he was standing in front of me likely saved my life.
I dropped and rolled, falling into a strange sense of time lapse, the sound of Ivan’s bellowing voice nothing but a slow rumble. I managed to get off a couple of shots, my gaze still locked on the girl.
And I could swear I heard her scream.
There was no rhyme or reason for my reaction, running toward her, my instinct to somehow get her to safety not something I’d planned. I was reacting instead of thinking, which I knew would come back to haunt me, but the girl didn’t deserve to die.
Bullets continued to fly, the bastards coming at us from all directions. From somewhere, I heard my name being called, but I didn’t respond, nor did I care. The girl remained frozen in fear, her body swaying back and forth.
There was no time, footsteps sounding from behind me. I scooped her into my arms, the girl immediately fighting me, struggling in my hold. She managed to scratch my face, her small body stronger than I’d originally thought.
“Let me go!”
“Quiet,” I barked, racing down the street in search of a hiding place. That was the only way I’d keep us both alive.
“No. No. No!” Her voice was so tiny, so full of terror and I could only imagine how scared she was.
As I rounded a corner, I stopped and peered back toward the street. There were too many of them. The rain had soaked through my clothes, clinging to my skin. I peered down at my captive as I pressed her against the hard brick surface. The warm glow of a streetlight yards away allowed me to witness the pleading look in her eyes. As if the girl was searching for redemption.
If only she knew she was the temporary prisoner of a vile young man determined to make his mark on this wretched world.
She continued fighting me, her squeals likely drawing their attention. I clamped my hand over her mouth. “Do you want to live?” I growled.
As her body went slack, I took a deep breath, waiting until she nodded.
“Then stay quiet. Do you hear me?”
Once again, she nodded and I removed my hand, pressing my index finger over my lips as a reminder. After searching the area, I bolted toward one of the buildings to a set of concrete stairs leading down to a basement area. I could tell the building was abandoned, the windows up above boarded up. But the door was locked. With no time to waste, I smashed my foot against the solid surface, forced to do it a second time before the doorjamb splintered.
Once inside, I closed the door behind us, backing away immediately.
The single broken window near the door allowed the limited light of a second streetlight to add an eerie glow inside. I kept my arm wrapped around her waist, dragging her into the bowels of the dilapidated building, narrowly avoiding tripping over a series of leftover wooden crates.
Once safely away from the door, I forced us both behind one of the stacked groups of boxes. As I tried to catch my breath, she scooted several feet away, folding her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around her legs.
The gunfire continued, a horn suddenly blaring out of the blue. I wiped my face with the soaked sleeve of my shirt, peering around the edge of the crates toward the door.
