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“Who’s Big Bubbah?” I asked.
“I dunno. His cellmate.” Davis shrugged with a smile. “I just imagine that’s what his name’ll be.” It was the first time Davis smiled since coming on board.
I grunted a chuckle.
Davis said, “We just need to make sure Guadalupe gets the ledger, and we get them out. Then the FBI, CIA, DEA, or whoever can do their little dance and take down the Cali operations. Let them take all the credit. I just want my partner.”
Jackson’s voice came into the mic once more before we made our move. At my signal, we all moved into the compound. Mark, Quinn, and Jackson’s words, “Clear. Clear. Clear,” told us the guards had all successfully been subdued. Just as Davis and I moved forward, ready to breach, I heard a scream and a single gunshot from the bungalow. Something I couldn’t name or explain called to me from that direction. I tore off toward the small building.
Over the coms, I could hear everyone’s play-by-play.
On your right! On your left!
Hold the door!
Count down!
One.
Go, go, move, move, move!
Hold the doors!
Go to the left.
Go to the right.
Clear!
Two down, two down.
Room’s clear.
Next room, let’s go.
Three’s clear.
Watch the hands, watch the hands.
Let’s go!
Two more gunshots rang out as I reached the bottom stairs of the bungalow. My heart stopped. Still, I forced my feet to move. My team’s words were still coming over the coms as I broke through the door. Finding Marisa is my only mission. If I didn’t find her, I prayed like hell that my team would.
When I finally entered the building, the sight in front of me slammed like a boulder into my chest. The sight of Marisa covered in blood would have brought me to my knees if I had the time to do anything other than react. I let my gun clatter to the floor and rushed to her collapsed form laying lifeless on the floor.
The adrenaline of the moment took over, and I dropped to my knees before the floor could drop out from beneath me. I picked her up. She was finally in my arms. She was breathing and had a heartbeat, but she was bleeding. “Marisa, wake up.”
Her eyes sprang open. She pushed at me. “Get off me! Get off me!”
I held on tighter. “Baby, it’s me. I’m here. I got you.”
“Let go of me!¡Cabrón!”
“Marisa! It’s me. It’s Tyler.”
“¡Pedazo de mierda!I’m gonna kill you.¡Pinche hijo de puta!”
“Marisa!” She slapped my face. But I didn’t let go. “Hey, hey!”—I changed tactics—“Siren, Siren. It’s me. It’s Sandman.”
She sagged against me as the recognition clicked. “Tyler,” she moaned.
“Yeah, baby. It’s me. I got you, Siren, I got you. Stay with me, baby. Stay with me.”
“Tyler,” she whispered once right before she passed out.
“Clear . . . clear . . . clear,” I heard from outside. It was Jackson, Mark, and Davis. They were quick to get to my side.
“Rover, Rover, hurry your ass up with that chopper!” Mark yelled into the coms.
“Don’t leave me, Siren. Please stay with me. I love you.”
