Page 103 of Cartel King

I back away as I answer, then round the car to see if I recognize the driver. I pull the door open, then shove the slumped body back from the steering wheel. I don’t know him. I snap a photo with my phone.

“Do you want me to ask him anything else? Or?—”

Gunshots fill the air, and I dive to cover Ellie as the first few pings against our original pursuers’ car land far too close to us. Ellie rolls—at least tries to since I’m so much heavier than her—to face where the barrage is coming from.

“Get behind the car.”

I give the order as I push up high enough to shield her as she scrambles out from beneath me. She gets to her feet but stays low as she darts to the back of the vehicle. I follow close on her heels. We squat with our backs to each other as we peek around the sides.

“Eleven o’clock.”

I have to turn toward Ellie to see what she does. She lifts her rifle and fires. The car racing toward us jerks to the left as she takes out the front driver’s side tire.

“That’s not the car Matías was in earlier. Do you recognize it?”

“I don’t. It doesn’t belong to my fleet or any of my men. At least, not that I know of.”

“Then where’s Matías?”

I shift to sweep my gaze over our surroundings. Nothing moves beyond the car still coming toward us.

“Do you want them to live?”

“No.”

My answer is immediate. I don’t have to think twice about it. Whoever it is won’t give us any more information than thecare mondá—dickface—cowering in front of me, still exposed to the shooters. Either I’ll recognize them or not. A rummage through their wallet or phone will tell me more.

I shift to look over her shoulder as she takes out the front passenger side tire. The silencer on Ellie’s rifle makes it nearly soundless, but the glass shattering isn’t. With the windshield gone, she lines up the sights on her gun and shoots twice. It’s too dark to see the blood spray, but I can imagine what the inside of the car must look like. Her aim is impeccable.

“We need to get back to your car, Ellie.”

“What about him?”

She looks back over her shoulder at me and nudges her chin in the surviving man’s direction. He’s wisely stayed put not wanting to make himself a target. I pivot toward the guy and put a bullet through his forehead. I turn my head toward Ellie as I squeeze the trigger. I want to know what she thinks when I shoot at close range. There’s no anonymity to my target. She doesn’t flinch.

We both look around, seeing no new threats. We sprint to her SUV, and once more I get in the driver’s seat, and she climbs in the back seat. I hear her moving things around in her duffle bag. There’s no mistaking the sound of a pump-action shotgun. She loads five rounds before going still. She has plenty of bullets left in her rifle, and now she has the second weapon loaded.

I put the car in gear and press on the gas. I plan to cross the field, get on the highway, and circle around, arriving at my brother’s from the other side. Two cars appearing from opposite directions cut those plans short.

Their headlights threaten to blind me since they have their brights on. I’m unprepared to hear Ellie’s rifle behind me. My gaze flicks to the rearview mirror, spotting a third car approaching from behind as it swerves before coming to an abrupt stop.

¿Quién carajos son estos hijos de puta? ¿De dónde diablos salen? ¿Dónde está Matáis ahora?Who the fuck are these motherfuckers? Where the fuck do they keep coming from? Where's Matáis now?

I have plenty more questions, but not a single fucking answer.

Barely taking my eyes off the approaching cars, I give my phone a command. “Call Pablo.”

“Calling Pablo.” The digital voice sounds ridiculously chipper in this situation.

“Tío, I was just about to call. We’re all here.”

“Ellie and I are at the vacant lot where we’re going to put up the grocery store. Get the cleaners here now. We have multiple cars coming at us. Ellie already took out five men, and I finished another. I’m trying to get us out of here, but I have two more cars trying to cut me off.”

I need our team to clear the scene of all evidence. It’ll never look like anything happened once they’re done.

“Who are they?” That’s Joaquin, so I hope giving him our only clue might be enough for him to start digging.

“Ellie thinks the guy we questioned was Venetian. He said, ‘A la chingada.’”

---