Page 77 of Resolution

“You do the honors, Miguel,” he said.

I nodded, confident in my role. Sorensen held up a hand and counted down on five fingers before pressing the detonator. The door blew outward and we ducked back behind the wall only long enough to avoid being struck by the splintering wood before Mac and I rushed forward, throwing the flashbangs into the room. I held my rifle at the ready and followed Sorensen into the room with Mac and Lincoln at my side. The sicario nearest the door was down but still moving, covered in debris, face obscured by blood. Sorensen didn’t stop to ask questions before putting a bullet in the middle of the man’s forehead.

Three things struck me all at once. Special Agent Trevor Willis lay on the ground, his head cradled in Brian Leopard’s lap, Tawny Flores and her attorney, Gregory Aston were embracing, heads ducked over the other two, and Oscar Castillo was holding a handgun pointed directly at Sorensen’s head.

I fired, not caring about taking the cartel boss alive at that moment, somehow knowing that another snake would simply rise to take the boss’ place the moment he was killed. A hole opened up in the man’s forehead as he fell backward, hit right between the eyes before he even got off a shot.

“Where’s Alex Filmore?” I shouted.

Greg Aston pointed to the man Sorensen shot. “That’s Filmore.”

I walked over to the man I’d thought was a sicario, squatting to verify his identity. Pushing up my night vision goggles, I took out my flashlight to light up his face. Sure enough, it was Alex Filmore, and he had a brand-new bullet wound right between the eyes. I stood, turning to the others. “It’s him.”

“All clear,” Sorensen said into the coms. “All hostages safe, Castillo and Filmore are dead. We’re gonna need a medic. Willis is down.”

“Trevor,” DEA SAC Hope Bannister’s tortured voice came in our coms. “Is he alive?” Her voice trembled.

Sorensen moved forward, squatting in front of the hostages. He put two fingers on the side of agent Willis’ neck, checking for a pulse.

“Affirmative. Willis is alive but we need a medic, right now!”

Brian Leopard looked up. His face was horribly bruised, eyes almost glued shut from the swelling. Tears leaked from the sides, tracking down his face. “He’s been shot. Please help him,” he managed to say.

I squatted in front of Tawny and Greg Aston.

“Miguel? Miguel Huerta?” Tawny cried. Her white-blonde hair was a mess, tangled and matted with blood. One of her pretty eyes was swollen almost closed and her cheek was distended so badly, I knew she probably had a broken cheekbone. Someone had badly beaten her. She had lacerations on her chest, and I could make out a set of finger shaped bruises on her neck as though she’d been choked. Her silk blouse was torn and bloody, exposing one side of her tattered bra and I could see more bruises there. I had a sick feeling that underneath what was left of her meager clothing, the doctors would later find evidence of rape at the hands of animals. Her dream weekend getaway with a good friend had turned into a nightmare.

“It’s me. How badly are you hurt?”

“Please get us out of here,” she whimpered.

I nodded then looked at Aston who’d also been worked over. The front of his torn dress shirt was covered in blood but most of it looked like it had come from numerous cuts and bruises on his face. He looked like he’d been attacked by a pack of dogs. “You armed, Aston?” He stared at me with haunted eyes, simply shaking his head. His lips were cracked and swollen from the beating he’d taken. His cheeks were sunken as though he’d been starved.

“Stand up,” Lincoln said, pulling out handcuffs and fastening them around his wrists, hands behind his back as the man got shakily to his feet. “You’re in some trouble.” The lawyer simply nodded, letting out a pathetic sob.

I couldn’t bring myself to feel the least bit sorry for the man who would probably be going to prison for a very long time once the FBI got finished with him. I turned when feet pounded down the stairs behind me. One of the Spec. Ops team carried a backpack with a white cross on it, and he went immediately to his knees in front of Agent Willis to render aid, tearing open the remnants of a filthy, bloody shirt. His body was covered with wounds, the worst of them, a gunshot to the belly. It was still bleeding which meant it had been recent, but other injuries, numerous dime-sized wounds—probably from a lit cigar—peppered his skin. He was white as a sheet and breathing with a hideous wet sucking sound.

Sorensen tapped me on the shoulder. “We should get these hostages out and give Joy room to work.”

“Joy?”

Sorensen pointed to the medic. “Alain Joy, our medic, but he also answers to Almond.”

Joy turned and nodded in our direction. “Get the fuck out.”

Sorensen laughed, saluted, and then walked over to Brian. “Come on, Mr. Leopard. Let’s get you out of here.”

Poor Brian looked like he’d been run over by a tractor. His head was bleeding, his curls were matted with something awful, and his face was badly bruised, like he’d been used as a punching bag. He was still weeping. “I don’t want to leave Trevor.” He looked at Joy. “Please help him,” he said. “He took the brunt of it all to protect us.”

Another set of boots rang out behind us as Bannister came into the room. She rushed over and squatted. “Trevor,” she said, sounding like she wanted to cry. I watched her put a hand on his forehead as she bent over him, speaking softly into his ear as Joy worked on him. I turned to Tawny as Sorensen helped Brian to his feet, leading him out of the room on unsteady legs.

“Come on, Mrs. Flores, let me get you out of here.”

She reached for me with shaking hands, and I took both of them in mine, pulling her easily to her feet. As she straightened, my worst fears were confirmed. She’d been stripped from the waist down and wore only torn panties. Black and blue bruises covered her legs. I shrugged out of my FBI windbreaker and tied it around her waist as Mac did the same, reversing his jacket. Between the two, she was fully covered, and Mac and I helped her walk out of the room, bending to carry her over the splintered wood from the door which had been blown to smithereens.

She cried out as we set her down again. We walked up the stairs with her where more agents were waiting with jackets to cover the top of her torn dress, and escorted her out of the house, stepping around bodies. Sorensen lingered just outside with Brian clinging to his large arm. When Brian saw Tawny, he burst into tears but allowed himself to be pulled along after us, to a waiting Humvee.

Once she was safely inside, I turned to see Sorensen following with Brian. The man could barely stand and was sobbing as he was led out of what had to have been days of hell on earth. Sorensen helped him into the Humvee beside Tawny and then shut the door. I watched the pair gently embrace in the back seat. The vehicle drove off moments later.

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