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He drove the few blocks to the house as fast as he dared and pulled up at the curb out of sight. The two Suburbans and the truck drew to a stop behind him. He got out and checked his clip, put it back in, and then chambered a round.
They carefully approached the house, staying out of view of the windows. Two DEA agents carried the door ram. The Senior Special Agent gave the signal, and the pair breached the door. It exploded back, slamming into the wall with a loudboom.
Cal followed the DEA agents in and spotted Vic in the living room right away. A Hispanic male raised an automatic weapon, and the first agent shot him. Cal took aim as another tattooed man opened fire in their direction.
An assault rifle’s burst came from a room ahead and to the left—probably the kitchen, Cal surmised. He ducked as he and several others fired. The bullets stopped. A man poked his head around the corner from a hallway and began shooting a handgun. Cal moved and fired, hitting him, and the man went down.
All the agents and Rangers were in the house now.
Suddenly Cal took two hits in the back and went down. Gasping for breath and in pain, he silently thanked his captain for the vest. A Ranger returned fire in the direction the shots had come from, and a loud cry sounded.
A moment later, the shooting stopped.
Not long after, an agent appeared from the hallway, a handcuffed member of the cartel shuffling in front of him. Other agents went from room to room, calling “Clear” as they checked each one.
Meanwhile, Cal strode to Vic as he called for an ambulance. She’d hunched over to shield herself from the firing. He slit the zip ties at her wrists, and she groaned. Then he helped her sit up. At the sight of her face, he moaned in shock. It looked worse than it had before.
She stood up and leaned against his chest. He put his arms around her. “I’ve got you, Vic. I’m here. Did they use their fists?” He was trembling with rage.
“Yeah, eventually,” she said in a slurred voice. It must hurt terribly to talk. He could drive her to the hospital himself, but he felt like it was safer for her to have medical staff in charge of her as soon as possible. Not only was her face swollen, but he could also see swollen spots on the side of her head where she’d been hit. This was bad.
He had her sit at the kitchen table while he took out his handkerchief and put ice in it. Holding it to the largest knot on her head, he sat next to her and kept her company while the other DEA and Rangers handled business.
One of the Rangers came in to bring him up to speed. There had been five cartel members in the house. Four were dead, and the one left alive was in DEA custody. Two agents and a Ranger had taken shots to their vests, but other than being sore, they were none the worse for wear.
Cal thanked him, and minutes later, he heard the ambulance arriving. Against his advice, Vic got up and headed outside. She was wobbly on her feet, and he put his arm around her. They met the ambulance at the curb, and they took her inside.
“I’m worried that she has a concussion. She’s been beaten badly. Where are you taking her?” Cal asked.
An EMT quickly told him, and moments later, they drove off.
He followed them, although he obeyed traffic lights and the speed limit. The ambulance would arrive ahead of him.
As he drove, he called his captain and brought him up to speed.
“They found the leak,” his captain said, and told him the details.
Cal was just glad to hear it had been with the DEA.
He found Vic in the ER, flat out on a gurney, her eyes nearly swollen shut.
She got tears in her eyes when she saw him. “I’m glad you came, Cal,” she said quietly.
He took her hand. “Of course I came.” He brushed a lock of hair back from her eyes. “Would you like me to take your hair down? That doesn’t look too comfortable with you lying on that ponytail.”
“Would you, please?”
He helped her to sit up and then gently took the band out. He ruffled her hair as he’d seen other women do, and she sighed.
“That feels wonderful.”
“Let me help you lie back down, honey.” He eased her onto the gurney.
The EMTs had cleaned some of the blood up, and he could see that her face was split at the cheekbone. And her eyes—God, they were awful. Those assholes had really done a number on her. He clenched his fists as he felt his heart beginning to pump with rage again. He held her hand and stood close by the bed, hoping his proximity would comfort her.
After a nurse came in and took some information, a doctor bustled in. He checked her eyes and frowned. “So, I hear that you were in some kind of trouble, Victoria.”
“Vic. Call me Vic.”
