Page 9 of Extraction

“A least she’s capable of loving me.”

“Wow.” His hits just kept coming. “So, if she loves you like you claim, then why marry me? Admit it, Justin. You just like my connections to Washington.” He didn’t even deny it; he just shrugged like I should have known all along. “Got it. Well, that’s that.”

He snickered, and I knew he’d need to have the last word. “Good luck being alone, Nicole, because that’s all you have left.” He glared like I was the only guilty one here. “I’ll be gone by tonight. You can get someone else to water your damn plant.”

I eyed the sad little plant that looked to be on its last leg. I curled it into my arm and awkwardly rolled my suitcase out the door. I knew that would be the last time I’d see Justin.

“You’re off again,” Tommy my doorman commented as the car rolled up to the curb.

“Yes, sir.” I held out my pathetic looking plant. “Seems I can’t keep a companion in my life. So, for the sake of this little guy, will you take him?” He smiled warmly and nodded. He knew I referred to Justin too.

“Sure thing, Ms. Winter. He’ll be bright and happy by the time my wife is finished with him.” He eyed the wilted, brown-edged leaves. “You make sure you come back in one piece so you can take this guy back home.”

“I will, Tommy.” I leaned in for a hug. “Thanks.” I waved but stopped myself when Pam’s face popped up in my head. “Tommy?”

“Yes, Ms. Winter?

“Justin is moving out, so I’d appreciate it if this was the last time he or anyone else is here.”

“You got it.” He gave me a reassuring smile as I slipped into the back seat of the car and didn’t look back.

I blinked the memory away, and my brain tried to catch up with what was going on in the here and now.

“You need to calm down. I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s going on.” I tried to get through to the little boy who was now screaming at me to help him.

“Necesito ayuda,” he cried again and pointed over his shoulder down an alleyway. I could hear a woman crying.

“Okay.” I looked around. I knew I had to move on, but I was a sucker for a kid in trouble. This part of town was crawling with Cartel. I generally worked the southern part of Mexico and sometimes El Salvador if the story was there. I knew I only had about ten minutes to spare before I had to make the next checkpoint. I had to hook back up with the military team that looked out for my safety. I’d been separated from them, and my cameraman Ben Bale had been taken. Now I had no idea if he was alive or dead. I pushed his sister’s face out of my head. Now wasn’t the time to let my mind go anywhere else. He had to be okay.

“Prisa!” the little boy screamed as he ran down the alley. He spoke Spanish so fast I missed most of it as I chased him. His beaten-up shoes twisted and slipped on the mashed-up asphalt, and he had to use the wall to stop his fall a few times. He finally stopped and pointed through a door to show me where she was. I stepped into the poorly lit house and saw his mother propped up against the wall, sweaty, her hands held to her bloody stomach. I did a quick scan to make sure no one was going to jump out at me, and thankfully the place was clear. I noticed they had very little, just a tiny table, three chairs, and a torn couch in front of a super old TV. So, then, why shoot her? They had nothing to offer. When it came to a Cartel killing, nothing made sense. She was simply in the wrong spot at the wrong time.

“Ayuda!” he cried.

Shit.

I patted his shoulder then dropped to my knees in front of her. I huffed. A wound like that couldn’t be fixed. I pulled out some narcotics I had hidden away for myself in case I ever needed them. I hated to give them up, but no one should die in that much pain.

“Agua?” I asked the boy for water, and he raced out of the room. I packed her stomach the best I could, but I could see her intestines. “Inglesa?”

“A little.” She shifted in pain, and her face paled even more.

“What’s your name?”

“Clara.” I swore her eyes started to dim.

“Who did this?” I grabbed the cup from the little boy, pushed the pill into her mouth, and held the glass to her lips. She wasted no time taking the pill. It was probably silly to waste it, but I had to try to ease her pain.

“Cartel,” she sputtered.

“Do you have a husband?”

“Sí.” She closed her eyes, but I shook her shoulders to bring her back. “He’s at work.”

“No sleep,” I said to her then barked at the boy to go get his father. He hesitated with a look at his mother but then left. No child should see their parent die this way. “I know it hurts, and I know you’re scared, but you must fight. Do you understand? Don’t let them win.”

“Soy luchadora,” she whispered in Spanish.

I pushed on her wound but knew I had to get out of here. “That’s right, you’re a fighter.” I pushed a smile past my lips and hoped the boy would return soon with his father.

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