Page 89 of Belonging to Them
I run up to them.“Where’s Ella?What happened in there?”
“We’re still clearing the building,” one of the Ironwood people says.“Don’t go in.”
“I need to find Ella,” I say.“I’m not waiting.”
Kingston’s right behind me as we dart past them.Maybe this is stupid, but I can’t stop myself.I have to get in there and find Ella.She’s probably scared, worried.She could be hurt.And these Ironwood people are more worried about carrying out the bad guys?
The warehouse is lit with two tiny bulbs, but everything within view is showing me that Ella isn’t in this part of the warehouse.She must be toward the back, which is filled with towers of wooden crates, stacked around like a kid’s macabre block city.In those shadows, it’s dark and it’s hard to see.I don’t care.I need to find Ella.Panic chokes me, makes it difficult to breathe, but I know it’s just feelings.I need to move past the panic.She could be hiding back here, not knowing what’s going on.
“Ella?”I call.
No answer.
I nearly trip over something on the floor.Bending down, I realize it’s a man lying facedown.
“Who the fuck is that?”I ask Kingston.“Is he one of ours?”
Just as the question leaves my lips, the guy flips over.I just saw this asshole’s picture—it’s Keith Mayberry.He’s holding a knife.Fuck.Not this again.I refuse to be stabbed today.Been there, done that, got the fucking hospital bracelet as a souvenir.
Mayberry grabs my leg with his free hand and tries to stab the knife at me with his other.No fucking way.I brace myself on the crates behind me with my arms, and kick him in the face with my other foot.
His head snaps back and his eyes close.He’s alive, I think.And I’m free.I turn to Kingston just as someone else leaps out at us from a nearby stack of crates.He wraps his arms around King’s neck.King bends forward, then drops backward, hoping to knock the guy off of him.It works—the guy’s head hits the crates with a dull thud and he loses his grip on Kingston.
I exchange a look with King.That was close.It’s probably best not to shout for Ella at this point, because it’s giving us away and, just like the Ironwood people told us outside, the room hasn’t been cleared yet.I can hear Ironwood people still walking through the other areas, talking to each other through their radio sets.
A woman’s pained scream reaches my ears, coming from a padlocked door a few yards away from us.
“There,” I point, already running toward the door, Kingston on my heels.
“I don’t think so,” a man says, stepping directly into our path.He’s got brown hair, gray at the temples, and a boyish face.He’s tall, almost as tall as Kingston.
“Marco Ruberetta,” Kingston says.
“Hello, Mr.Tyler.”
“We just want our people back,” Kingston says.
“Imagine my delight.”Ruberetta’s lip curls in a cruel smile.“I thought I had some punk off the street owing me money.Same shit, different day.Then it turns out he has a little family.And his sister is the girlfriend of two of San Esteban’s richest men.”
“So give her back,” I say.“We’ll give you the money.We just want her safe and unharmed.”
Ruberetta shakes his head.“Might have done, if you hadn’t brought in reinforcements.”
He never would have let her go.He’d have bled us dry while slowly doling out crumbs of hope.
“You’re lying,” I say.
“Maybe.”There’s that cruel smile again.What a hateful, ugly man.
“It’s over,” Kingston says.“Ironwood is here, and the police, and everyone’s onto you.”
Ruberetta grins.“If I’m going down, I’m taking everyone with me.”
He reaches for his pocket—probably a gun.I don’t give myself enough time to worry about it.I rush at him, already swinging.
Itisa gun he was reaching for.It’s out of his pocket, in his hand, and pointing right at me.
He gets off a shot before I’m on top of him, tackling him to the ground.We land and I feel the impact through my whole body, my teeth clacking together.Lucky my tongue wasn’t in the way.I throw a punch, then another, hitting his smarmy, ugly face over and over again.He tries to buck me off at first before giving up.
