Two more guys with guns stared out at me.
“Fuck,” I said as I threw myself to the side. They opened fire, blasting holes in the doors. I rolled, got up, ran to the line of cars. The driver came around the van and walked toward me, firing his gun. I dove behind a red SUV and fired back, keeping his attention on me. I had to make sure they didn’t go after Mona, I had to make sure she was okay.
I poked my head up, fired a few more shots. I saw the two guys in the back jump out and shoot at me. I was pinned down and they had way too much firepower. I cursed again as bullets ricocheted off the pavement around me.
I ran again, diving behind a beige sedan, and fired a few more shots. I got lucky and nailed the driver in the leg as he tried to come around my BMW. He staggered and dropped to one knee, and I was about to finish him off when more gunfire from the other two forced me back into hiding.
“Don’t make this hard, man,” one of the guys yelled, I couldn’t tell which one. His English was accented, and I was definitely sure these were cartel boys.
And I was pretty sure I knew which cartel.
The fucking Jalisco.
I popped up, shot at the closest one, forced them back behind the van. I fired at the driver again as he fell to the ground and rolled to the side.
But the two guys got ballsy and came out as I tried to kill the driver again. They lit me up, ripped bullets into the car, and I had to hide. They were coming closer, firing as they walked, and I knew I was fucked.
Until I heard more gunshots, but off to the side, from down the street. I heard a scream and one of the Jalisco went down, clutching his gut. I jumped up and fired, slamming my bullets into the last guy’s chest. He staggered, got hit by a few more shots from down the street, and dropped.
Steven came running toward us, rifle held up, eye sighted down its length. He motioned at me and I pointed toward the wounded driver. I came out of hiding and joined him, and together we went around the car.
The driver tried to drag himself away. Steven walked up to the guy and stomped down on the bullet wound. He screamed in pain and I pressed the warm muzzle of my gun against his head.
“Who sent you?” I asked.
“Fuck you,” he said.
“Tell me who sent you and I’ll make it quick,” I said, then lowered my gun to point at his gut. “Or keep your mouth shut and I’ll make it slow.”
He groaned, shook his head. “Mercy,” he said.
“Who. Sent. You?”
“Jalisco,” he whispered. “We’re fucking Jalisco, man, and we’re going to burn your whole—”
I shot him in the skull. His head snapped back, blood spurted all over the concrete, and he didn’t finish his sentence.
“You okay?” Steven asked.
I nodded. “They’re all down now.”
“Fuck,” he said. “Fucking fuck. I can’t believe they’d do this.”
“Mona.” I ran to the car and threw the door open. She was huddled on the floor still, her body trembling, her hands over her head. “Mona, Mona, it’s okay,” I said, coaxing her out.
She threw herself at me. I grabbed her and lifted her out, up into my arms. I held her tight against me.
“You have to go,” Steven said. “I’ve got a car near here. Come on.”
I followed Steven, Mona in my arms. I kept her close against me, and I could feel her breathing hard, trembling like a leaf.
I knew she’d be fucked up from this.
That wasn’t supposed to happen. I knew the Jalisco didn’t fuck around, but I never once imagined they’d try to kill me in broad daylight, not to mention so fast. They barely gave us any notice, and they’re already trying to pull shit like that.
Rage shook through me. Rage, white and hot.
They hurt Mona. Those motherfuckers. She wasn’t a part of this. She was just a journalist, just a girl looking for a halfway decent story, and I dragged her into my world. I thought it would be fun to bring her around, thought it would be a good time to show some innocent girl the life of a real gangster.
I never meant for shit to get this real.
Steven took us down the block and stopped outside of a black SUV.
Of course it was some fucking black SUV.
He unlocked it. “Get in,” he said.
I put Mona in the back seat and went around. Steven tossed me the keys.
“You good?” I asked him.
“I’m good,” he said. “I own this area, don’t worry about me. You get the hell out of here before the cops show up and start asking questions.”