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14
NIALL
In the morning, with a few hours of restless sleep under my belt, I pry my sore body and sticky eyes out of the bed to get back on the road. A cup of black coffee and a questionable egg sandwich later, I’m back on the highway towards the coordinates, my gut tightening with anxiety as I near the location Beth pinned down. I know I’m close when I start to see the copper-edged canyons, and I drive deeper into them, looking for a sign of some kind of compound, structure, or hideout that could be Javier’s.
In the end, when I finally see it, I realize he’s built it into one of the canyons, far enough past where tourists or hikers would go that anyone would have to go to some effort to stumble on it. I park my bike a ways off, hiding it behind some boulders and brush, and start the slow trek to try to sneak in.
It’s a fool’s mission, I know that. There’s no telling how many men he has in there, and I’m going in blind, with nothing but a gun and a knife. It reeks of Liam’s attempt to break into Alexandre’s place, which went horribly wrong, but I don’t know what else to do. I can’t risk more lives, and a from-the-front assault on Javier’s hideout isn’t going to end well for anyone. If there is a chance to sneak in, it’ll be better done alone.
The sun is up and beating down heavily on my back by the time I get close enough to the walls to start scanning them, looking for any weak spots or a way in. There don’t seem to be guards posted in any lookouts or towers, and that gives me some hope that Javier either only keeps a very small amount of security, or none at all.
When I finally find a way in, it’s by means of a rock outcropping near a back corner that I can, if I’m careful, climb. I move slowly, well aware that I don’t have any gear, my motorcycle boots not all that well-suited to climbing. I stop every few inches, clinging to the rocks, waiting for some sound or movement that would indicate I’ve been seen. There’s nothing, and when I finally manage to get close to the top of the wide, clay-colored wall, I look over it to see if there’s any way to safely drop down.
From where I’m at, the drop would break something. But if I can crawl a little ways down the wall, there’s a van parked just close enough that I might be able to jump onto it and slide down.
I’ll risk being seen, but so far, there hasn’t been a patrol, and I can’t see any other way in.
The short time it takes me to crawl along the wall is some of the most terrifying of my life. A fall could leave me crippled or worse, and I’m a sitting duck up here if someone targets me. I move as quickly as I can, crouched and nearly crawling until I reach the spot parallel to the van.
I’ll have to jump and hope the resulting sound doesn’t alert anyone.
The impact of my body hitting the metal takes the wind out of me. I hear a sound across the courtyard just as I slide down and a voice calling out: “Did anyone hear that?”
I freeze in place, my heart pounding. Slowly, I reach for my gun, ready to draw if footsteps come too close, but they don’t. They fade away, as does the voice, and I take a deep breath to steady my racing pulse.
Slowly, very slowly, I start to creep towards the main structure. I’d seen some sort of scaffolding on the right-hand side, leading up to what looked like a window, and as little as I want to climb again, that seems like the best way in. I move across the courtyard quickly, staying low and pausing behind vehicles and sheds, anything I can hide behind long enough to gauge if I’ve been heard or seen.
When I make it to the scaffolding, I pause, again trying to steady my pulse.You’ve made it this far.I just have to get inside now, and putting one foot on the first rail with a whispered prayer to whatever saint my mother pledged me to, I start to climb.
It reminds me way too fucking much of the fire escape that we had to climb down to get out of the burning warehouse, rickety and threatening to plunge us to the concrete below. A shiver runs down my spine, my skin turning to gooseflesh.
But there’s no other way in that I can see.
I’m sweating bullets by the time I make it to the top of the scaffolding, and not just from the sun. I pause in front of the window, rolling down my shirtsleeve to use my elbow to break the window, when a sudden shout catches my attention.
“Up there! Who the fuck are you? Get down!”
Two more voices join in, and I know I’m out of time. I might have already failed if I can’t find Isabella and get her out of here before I’m caught. I slam my elbow through the window, the glass shattering, wincing as some of it cuts through my sleeve. I see the blood dripping, but there’s no time to care. I clear out the glass as fast as I can and heave myself through the window.
All the air goes out of me as I hit the floor, a further drop than I’d thought it would be. I can feel the cuts from the glass, shaking bits of it free from my hair and shirt, but I can’t wait to be sure it’s all gone. I rush for the door, hoping it’s not fucking locked, and to my relief, it opens.
I barely make it halfway down the hall before three men in fatigues, guns drawn, block my way.
Fuck this. I draw my own gun, aiming it dead center, but before I can pull the trigger, something hard and heavy hits me in the spine, sending me to my knees.
Another blow to the back of the head, and I’m pitched forward, the gun knocked out of my hand and my vision swimming as I see the guard who hit me with his rifle butt circling around me, grinning.
“Oh, Javier is going to have fun with you. Grab him, boys.”
Hands haul me up, and I wrench sideways, fighting them. The next slam of the rifle butt goes into my gut, and I cough, doubling forward.
“There’s more of a beating in it for you if you don’t stop. Move,” the guard snaps, and the others shove me forward.
They march me down another hall, a long staircase, and through a richly-decorated living room before pushing me into what appears to be Javier Aguilar’s office, complete with a heavy desk, art on the walls that I can only imagine is stolen, and bookshelves filled with leather-bound books.
“I’m surprised you know how to read,” I snarl as the broad-shouldered, dark-haired man behind the desk rises.
“I’m known for my talents.” He smirks. “Some of which you’ll get to experience very soon. Niall Flanagan, is it?”
