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That wiped that smarmy fucking grin off his face but the high pitch wheeze of one of those racing bikes sounded in the distance and his smile returned. “Too bad you weren’t smarter and better. Things could have gone differently.”
Guapo pulled up, parking his bike between me, Stitch and Carlito. He spared a quick, blank, look at me and Stitch before turning to Carlito. He gave him a head nod. “Jefe.”
“Things taken care of?”
“Si,” he answered in Spanish.
Carlito’s smile broadened. “Sorry about your girl, Stitch,” he called out, too damn arrogant for the reality of the situation. “I will punish her, dearly, but you can rest easily because I will not kill her. No. I will put Marisol to work in one of my casitas. Perhaps the little whore will work in Tijuana.”
Stitch grinned with his arms crossed. Looking much too casual for the news he’d just received. “Sure about that, are you?” He scoffed.
I saw the flicker of doubt and worry in his eyes. “I have no reason to worry, do I, Guapo?”
Judging by Guapo’s stance, arms crossed with his shoulders broad and an angry look on his face, Carlito had every reason to worry. “I want to talk about Cadre,” Guapo growled out.
He hid it well, but another flicker of worry crossed Carlito’s face. “Don’t be stupid, Guapo. We can talk about this later, right now we have business.”
“No. We will talk about it now. This has everything to do with business.” Guapo took a step forward and Carlito took a step back. I couldn’t help but smile at how well the plan was playing out.
“I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“Mi padre, did you kill him, Carlito, yes or no?”
“Guapo, por favor—”
“Yes or no, goddammit!” He held up a silver handgun with a glossy wood finish and aimed it at his employer. “Answer me!”
“You want an answer?” Guapo’s only response was to pull back the safety and wrap his finger around the trigger. “Okay, I’ll give you an answer. Yes, I killed him. He was in my way, standing where I should have been standing. What was I supposed to do?”
“You killed my father.” Guapo bit out. Both men glared at each other. “You killed my father! Mi padre!” His voice broke on the last word and I reached behind me where I kept my favorite piece because shit was about to explode.
Carlito laughed at his cousin’s display of emotion which only pissed him off. Guapo ran full speed at Carlito, knocking him to the ground with his knees pressing into the other man’s arms, effectively pinning him to the ground. Both hands raised in the air, Guapo rained fists down on his cousin’s face until blood flew from his fists, rage and anguish propelled him forward, pushed him to land blow after blow.
“Guapo!” Carlito screamed, terror and pain squeezing the breath out of him. “Por favor.”
“Now you say please, when your life is on the line?” Guapo spit at the man and stood, which was a mistake because Carlito pulled out a small gold gun with a white handle and squeezed the trigger, sending Guapo to the ground.
“You should have killed me when you had the chance, Primo.” Carlito turned to me with a sly grin. “Kill them all,” he ordered his men as he pulled himself up off of the ground.
Stich went straight at Carlito and knocked the fancy gold gun away and then I kicked Carlito square in the jaw sending his face crashing back into the desert sand. Stich and I took an arm and dragged Carlito toward the boulder next to our bikes. We used him as a human shield as my boys rained down hell fire on his countless men with automatic weapons.
“Shit!” I spared a glance at Stitch who smiled like he was on a goddamn roller coaster. He kept Carlito pinned down with one knee. I could tell Carlito was wearing a vest, but he was bleeding from two places that I could see. Clearly those bullets were meant for me and Stitch.
More bullets flew, a high-pitched whine sounded three times and then Jag’s voice came over the comms. “Got three down. Nope—make that four.”
“Where the fuck are they coming from?” I asked over the comms.
“You’re surrounded, but we got you covered.” Jag replied.
Our odds were getting better by the second. Stitch and I shared a look at Carlito and knew he wasn’t going anywhere fast. I took a deep breath and checked my weapons. I had US Military grade M-16 semi-automatic rifle strapped over my shoulder with a 50-round clip cartridge, locked and loaded. I also had a Glock 9 in each hand with 20 round clips each.
Stitch and I both emerged from opposite sides of the rock with guns blazing. I dropped one of Carlito’s men, who was making his way toward our left flank with another guy, on the third shot. When the first guy fell, the second guy hesitated just long enough for me to sink two shots into him center mass that sent him flying into the fender of one of the SUV’s.
“Fuck!” A shot ripped through my left shoulder. I could feel the burn and I gritted my teeth and pulled back behind the rock to check myself out. Luckily it was just a flesh wound and I quickly moved around to the other side of the rock to see how Stitch was doing.
“You all right Prez?”
“Yeah.” I nodded at Stitch who was shooting like a madman. “I’ll live. These motherfuckers are coming out of the fucking woodwork! Just keep shooting.” I looked down and saw two empty clips next to him. That crazy fucking kid had already unloaded two clips and had taken out at least three of Carlito’s men while the rest of our brothers had the bad guys surrounded.
