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Alive enough.It wasn’t the first time I’d heard it phrased in such a way.
“One more thing. Are you all armed?”
“Affirmative,” I responded before Beau could, knowing he’d be more likely to say something closer to “locked and loaded.”
We wereable to keep track of what was happening through the comms, so we knew the precise moment the team of six made their move into the shipping container. First, we heard shouting, followed by gunshots and the sound of people screaming.
The next thing we heard sent a chill down my spine.
“Let her go, Varilla. The container is surrounded. There’s no way out,” Ares shouted.
“You let me go, or she dies,” said a man who sounded as much like he was from California as I did.
“If she dies, you die.”
“Traer el coche,”I could hear Varilla say through someone’s comms who must’ve been standing close to him. The other thing we now knew was he had comms of his own and had used them to summon transport.
Within seconds, an SUV with blacked-out windows barreled up to the back of the shipping container, tires screeching. Press, Beau, and I had our weapons out, ready to fire if given the command to do so.
“Four incoming,” I said as they jumped out of the vehicle.
“Take ’em out!”Ares responded.
I fired first, followed a split second later by Press, then Beau.
“Three down.”
The SUV was parked close enough to a security light that I could see the fourth man duck behind it.
“I’ve got him,” said Beau, creeping around at the same time Press and I fired several shots to distract the guy. A few seconds later, I heard one more and saw the man fall to the ground.
Through the comms, I heard one more shot go off right after Beau’s had, then several more.
“Goddammit! You stupid motherfucker!” Ares shouted. “Hold your fire!”
“She’s dead,” said another voice.
“He’s not.”
After making sure the four men who’d arrived in the SUV were all dead, I asked permission for us to come inside.
“Proceed in,” said Ares. I could barely hear him over the sound of sirens blaring as they got closer.
My legs felt like fifty-pound weights were on each ankle as I walked through the back door of the container, not wanting to see the woman who’d lost her life, but knowing I had to.
“Please, God, don’t let it be Luisa,” I whispered.
