Brick shot up pulled me back down and stared into my face.
“You good?”
“We need to move.” Hot flames burned my face. It had been a close one, but I knew it was only a flesh wound.
We stayed low and worked our way along the ditch, but when we came to a storm drain, Brick hesitated.
“Anything could be in there,” he hissed.
“But we know what’s out there, so get on your knees and crawl.”
“You know that came out sexual, don’t you?”
I pushed his back and shot him forward just as we heard footsteps.
I tried my hardest not to think what was living inside the steel tube, considering not many of these were around the area. When we got to the other side, we raced toward the gas station, only to be greeted with more bullets.
“Jesus Christ!” Brick skidded as the bullets kicked up the dirt around him. “Plan B would be a great option right now, Black!”
“Truck!” I tossed at him. A semi-truck had just finished at the pump. “Come on!” I picked up the pace and closed in on the trucker getting into the driver’s side.
The engine roared to life, and so did Brick. He yelled he’d been hit. I reached back and grabbed his leather cut to pull him up behind me and cursed as he dropped his gun.
“The fuckers got my leg!”
I quickly glanced down and saw the blood draining from his calf.
Shit.
More bullets sprayed in our direction, which prompted the trucker to floor it, shifting gears out of the parking lot. I caught his face in the mirror and awkwardly ripped the top of my patch off to show we were Americans. I swore something passed between us, because the truck slowed slightly but then began to accelerate as I grabbed the handle to the massive back door and hauled Brick up on the small ledge with me. I looked back and saw the cartel, who now seemed to be arguing as one guy pointed in the opposite direction while another pointed at us. Why weren’t they scrambling into their vehicles to follow the truck?
“You good?” I hit his shoulder to get his attention. He was drenched in sweat, and mud and leaves clung to his clothes.
“Yeah,” he grunted as he tried to shift to a better spot.
The trucker took a couple of turns, which I hoped would throw the cartel off. Our fingers were white and cramped by the time we hit the next town. After a sharp turn, the truck took a side road and slowed almost to a crawl. I took it as a sign he wanted us to know this was far enough. I didn’t want to push our luck, so I took hold of Brick’s arm and nudged us off the step, not wanting to put the driver in any more danger. Brick stumbled, and I grabbed him before he did a face plant into the dirt.
“Jesus, warn a guy,” he gasped as he tried to regain his feet.
“Sorry, man. We were lucky to get a lift this far.” I pulled him to cover in some bushes until I felt the road was clear. I spotted what looked to be a run-down diner not far away, and we made our way slowly toward it.
The place had a strange vibe to it when we entered. I helped Brick to a chair as two employees quickly disappeared into the back. I kept an eye on the door as I pulled a piece of clean cloth from the supply in one of my pockets and wrapped his leg as tightly as I could.
“Yeah, that hurts,” he complained, but I knew he was going to be fine.
“A bullet will do that.” I stood back and examined the gash in my side. I stuck a field dressing on it then bound it in place.
“What don’t you have on you?” Brick tried to laugh but coughed with a wince as he tested the leg.
“When you do the shit we do, you get lots of good stuff.”
A movement caused me to whirl around at the same time as I pulled out my knife and held it ready.
“Whoa, there. Take it easy, fella. You guys need any help?” The guy gestured at his pocket, and with a nod from me, he inched out his ID and held it up. “Agent Cooper Collins, FBI.”
“Recon John Black.” I lowered my knife and offered my hand. He gave me a firm handshake, and I relaxed a little. I was damn glad he was here. I noticed a ring on his right hand that looked a little flashy for an FBI agent but figured I couldn’t judge, considering I was helping a repeat offender in the one percent club.
“This is a friend.” I indicated Brick, whose face showed a distinct lack of friendliness.
“Well, looks like you both have seen better days. Need a phone?”
“Please.” I took the phone he held out and quickly dialed a secure number. The agent shook his head at some lowlifes who were slowly moving toward us. Who the hell was this guy?
I focused back on what I was doing, and as the phone rang, I finally activated my personal GPS.
“Go,” someone answered.
“This is Recon John Black, ID 135241493,” I paused and gave my code word, “clear.”
“Code word verified. Give your location.”
There was a moment of silence while someone typed in the number to see who it was assigned to on this mission.
“Did you activate yourself?” He cleared his throat like he wanted to say more, but we both knew he couldn’t.
“Affirmative.” I glanced down at my watch to see the tiny green light that showed it was working.
“You need medical?”
“Negative for me, and I also activated a second tracker,” I glanced at Brick and saw he was now glaring at the agent, “but yes, I will need medical for one I need to get out. I’d like to make a request to stay put.”
There was a pause. “Give me a moment.”
I moved to the window and scanned the place to see if our company had arrived. All looked clear, not that that meant anything. They were slimy suckers and knew the land better than I did.
“In twenty-four hours, meet at checkpoint two. Clock starts now. Leave your company where you are someone is on the way.”
“Second tracker confirmed.”
“Ten-four.”
“Ten-four.” The line went dead.
“Wait.” Brick propped himself up against the wall after I told him I was out. “You’re leaving me here with a fucking FBI agent and some John Gotti-looking assholes?” Sweat dripped from his forehead, and he looked pissed. “I’d rather be back with the fucker on the cliff.” He tried to stand, but I pushed him back down.
“Irons is on his way. He’ll get you back to Cali,” I whispered.
“Look, I don’t want to sound like a pussy, but—”
“Then don’t,” I interrupted.
“Shit, at least Mike is friendly.”
I ignored him and stood to check my wounds. The gauze was holding fine on my side and arm. It wasn’t anything I couldn’t handle. I dabbed at the blood on my cheek and figured I was ready.
“You can’t go out emptyhanded.” Agent Collins passed me a handgun with three clips. It bothered me that he’d overheard my conversation with Brick, but I was thankful for the weapon.
“Thank you.” I gave a curt nod and glanced at Brick. He still looked pissed, and it was obvious he didn’t like being so close to the FBI agent. “Will you be here for long?”
“No,” Collins checked the time, “we’re following a subject who’s now on the move again.” He signaled for his men to stand. “Good luck, Black.”