Option to Kill (Nathan McBride 3) (25 page)

He climbed back in, reloaded the SIG with his last full magazine, and hit the gas.

The girl had her pants on.

“Her stomach’s bleeding,” said Lauren. “What are those metal things?”

“Surgical staples. We’ll check her in a few minutes, but we need to clear the area first.”

Nathan rammed a closed gate on the opposite side of the truck park. It flew open and banged against its stop. He turned east on a street intersecting the main road.

“Lauren, zoom the nav out and locate the road that goes north, to the left.” He remembered seeing it on the Google Earth map. “It should be about a mile straight ahead.”

Nathan had to drive at a painfully slow pace to preserve the rubber for as long as possible. Once the rims were exposed, they’d make a terrible racket and create a fireworks display. Crawling along this road became a double-edged sword, but it couldn’t be helped. Driving slowly wouldn’t draw much attention, but it also wouldn’t put much distance between them and the motel. He didn’t hear any sirens but knew that wouldn’t last long. The burst of AK fire had been nothing short of deafening. U.S. Border Patrol agents were all over the place.

The girl leaned toward Lauren and began crying again.

“What did they do to her? Did they ”

“Yes.”

“Did you kill them?”

He didn’t respond.

“Good. They deserved it.”

“Lauren, there’s nothing good about killing.”

“How can you say that after what they did?”

“Get it out of your head.”

She went silent.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you.”

“It’s okay. I know you’re not mad at me. She can’t stop crying.”

“Help her get her shirt on.”

Maintaining twenty miles an hour, Nathan looked at the nav and saw the road they needed. He resisted the urge to stomp gas and slowed his breathing.

He wanted to ask the girl some questions but knew she was in no condition for that. He decided to risk an icebreaker. As softly as he could, he asked for her name.

She didn’t answer and leaned closer to Lauren.

“Is your last name Hernandez?”

He heard a barely audible “
sí
.”

“What’s your first name?”

“Abrille.” She pronounced it
Ah-breel
.

“That’s a beautiful name. You’re safe now, Abrille. No one’s going to hurt you anymore. I’m Nathan, that’s Lauren.”

He no longer believed there’d been a stakeout at the motel, which meant he’d just saved this girl from a protracted death humanity at its worst. Nathan had seen his share of violence and torture during his time with the Marines and CIA. He’d been on both sides of the equation and knew what Abrille was feeling all too well. Lauren’s presence had a calming effect on the girl. She stopped crying, but she was still trembling.

“Lauren, grab a water from the duffel and give it to her. It’s okay to take your seat belt off.”

Abrille downed the entire bottle. He wondered how long she’d gone without food or drink.

“
Más?
” Nathan asked.

“
Sí, por favor.
”

Lauren caught the meaning and grabbed another.

According to the nav, they were now about halfway to the turn. Fortunately, a hill on the south side of the road screened them from being seen from the motel. Nathan knew arriving law enforcement would start there and have their hands full with a violent and bloody crime scene. The man Lauren had plowed may or may not be able to escape in time. The first man he’d shot in the parking lot wasn’t going anywhere and would probably die. Nathan hadn’t taken a wounding shot, he’d nailed the center of the man’s chest. He doubted coyotes wore body armor, like Voda’s men. Including the men from motel and the H2 driver, the world now had five fewer dirtbags.

Thinking back to this evening’s earlier action, he hadn’t killed anyone, but not from a lack of effort. His initial shots at the Ulric crash site would’ve been fatal had it not been for the body armor the gunmen had worn. The same could be said about the gunman from the grocery store. Ironically, the only man he hadn’t tried to kill tonight had been Voda. But at that moment in time, killing Voda hadn’t been warranted. Right after the Ulric Street crash, he hadn’t known anything about the man. He could’ve been Lauren’s disgruntled father. Had Nathan known who Voda really was, he would’ve shot him in the head, not the thigh. Hindsight was always like that.

In a soft voice in Spanish, Abrille said, “Thank you for rescuing me.”

The words sliced into his soul, and he struggled to maintain control. Now wasn’t the time to show anything other than steadfast confidence. His passengers needed to know their rescuer was in command and mentally stable. It also didn’t hurt to tell himself the same thing.

He couldn’t say for sure, but Abrille’s Spanish didn’t sound local, which meant her Bolivian passport was likely authentic.

“My stomach hurts,” she said.

“What happened to you?” Nathan asked.

“A doctor operated on me.”

“How long ago?”

“Three days.”

He shook his head at what this child must’ve endured. It was bad enough being brutalized, but after abdominal surgery? Killing those assholes had been more than justified. In fact, they’d died too well.

“Lauren, was there anything in her pockets?”

“Just a passport like we saw in my stepdad’s office.”

“Does she feel hot, like she’s got a fever? Check her forehead.”

“It feels really warm.”

Likely an infection. This made things more urgent. Abrille didn’t appear to be in dire trouble yet, but that could change quickly. She needed antibiotics and possibly more surgery. If the doctor botched the job, she could become septic if she wasn’t already. He knew what to do, but they needed a vehicle.

The turn was just ahead. “Lauren, give Abrille some air. Roll your window down.”

They all heard it, the whine of a siren, probably a fire engine they were usually first to respond but it would have to stage away until law enforcement secured the scene. The shot-up H2 was a good quarter of a mile from the motel. With a little luck, it wouldn’t be discovered for several more minutes, especially if no one witnessed Nathan’s pistol skills.

“Lauren, do you know any songs? I want you to sing to Abrille.”

“Sing? You mean like a song?”

“Just pick anything, but sing softly.”

“I don’t understand…”

“Please, just do it.”

Lauren began the “Itsy Bitsy Spider” song.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Abrille huddle closer to Lauren, almost hugging her.

“I think she likes it.”

“Keep going.”

Lauren’s soft singing created a stark dichotomy. Here they were, fleeing a scene of unspeakable human depravity and violence to the soft melody of a children’s nursery rhyme. Nathan thought back to what the man sitting at the table had said:
Voda said it was okay!
He had experienced a moment of pure clairvoyance and knew exactly what the creep meant.
If Voda’s gonna kill her, why should he care if we do her first?
The sickos were simply taking advantage of an opportunity. Including the driver of the H2, there’d been at least six of them. Even as he shook his head in disgust, Nathan found his logical side asking a question: Why six men? It didn’t take that many thugs to guard one twelve-year-old girl. Nathan could envision two men, but six?

He fought the Taurus onto the northbound road and looked over his shoulder. The hill still offered them cover from the motel. He’d need to start looking for an opportunity soon. From the sound of the tires, he didn’t have much time left. He slowed to fifteen miles an hour. The terrain remained flat, but up ahead, it looked to begin a gradual ascent.

Lauren finished a second rendition of the song.

“Good job,” he said.

“I can’t believe what they did to her.”

“Try not to think about it. The important thing is, she’s safe now.”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m going to procure alternate transportation.”

“You’re going to steal a car.”

“Yeah, that’s the general idea.”

“Can’t you just ask to borrow someone’s car?”

He glanced at the dashboard clock. Knocking on a complete stranger’s door at 0220 and asking to ‘borrow’ his or her car had a snowball’s chance. Worse than that, the odds of finding a car with the keys in it were even more remote, and even if he did manage to find one, starting its engine would probably alert its owner, and if its owner had a gun, things could turn ugly. He wasn’t willing to engage anyone in a firefight over a vehicle. But his circumstances were bordering on desperate. He had to think about Abrille. How long did she have?

“I can help you,” Lauren said.

“How’s that?”

“We can ask together, you know, like a father and daughter. We can say we ran over something and got flat tires, but we have to take Abrille to a hospital ’cause she’s like really sick.”

Nathan went over the pros and cons and decided it was worth the risk. The biggest con involved law enforcement. At this moment, their location wasn’t known, but that would change if more violence ensued over a vehicle. “Okay, we’ll try it your way. First.”

He spotted a small house on the left side. All its windows were dark, and several cars were parked in the yard, a few of them not looking roadworthy. Maybe no one would be home and they’d find keys inside the house.

Nathan turned on his headlights, but they were broken from ramming the gates in the truck park. He crawled down the gravel driveway and asked Lauren to steer while he pulled off his sweatshirt and ballistic vest. Along with his radio, he tossed them into the backseat.

Whoever lived here took care of the place. The mowed lawn and modest landscaping were absent of any weeds. He expected to be challenged by one or more dogs, but surprisingly, none was present. Near the front door, he stopped at an angle so the home’s owner could see the passenger side. Nathan left the engine running and opened his door. Before climbing out, he tucked the SIG into the small of his back. Was he really doing this? It would be just their luck to encounter a paranoid nutcase.

“Lauren, get out and leave the door open. I’ll do the talking.”

A porch light snapped on, and the front door opened. Wearing a faded black T-shirt and blue jeans, a medium-built man in his fifties stood in the open door. With a pump-action shotgun in his right hand, he looked all business. Nathan focused on a tattoo imprinted on the man’s shoulder.

“Who are you and what do you want?”

Nathan stopped midstep. “We have an emergency and need help.”

“What kind of emergency?”

Nathan pointed to the tires.”

“Call Triple A.”

“I have a very sick girl in the car. She needs a doctor.”

“Call 911.”

“You’re Airborne Ranger. Eighty-second.”

“Knowing my tat don’t mean shit.”

“Can’t deny it.”

The man motioned with the gun. “What’s wrong with the girl?”

“Coyotes.”

Nathan waited while the man processed the info.

“What unit were
you
with?”

“First Recon, Delta Company.”

The man leveled his shotgun and stepped down from the porch. “What does
semper fidelis
mean?”

“Always faithful.”

“Are those sirens because of you?”