Page 82 of Darcy
The gasoline they doused him with goes up in a whoosh of flame, and Sully screams as they kick him over the edge, sending him rolling down the rocky slope in a whirl of fire.
“Shit!”
Drone 3 bleeps its position, and I smash the enter key, triggering the release of its payload, which falls from the sky and right into the thick of things.
The cartel members scatter as smoke pours from between them. Guns are drawn. Shouts echo in the confusion as they all realise they’re under attack and whirl to figure out where their enemy is hiding. Without pausing, I mash the bot’s commands in next, followed by Drone 1.
Blue and red light beams cuts into the chaos. A siren squeals from Drone 1.
“Cops!”I don’t know who yells it, but that’s my cue.
Abandoning my laptop, I scramble for the driver’s seat and slam the Jeep into gear, heading for the slope where they chucked Sully. I can trace his path thanks to the burning bushes, and when I finally reach him, he’s stopped rolling all together.
“Come on, old man,” I grumble under my breath, slamming on the brake. “You’re too good to die at the hands of these scumbags.”
Wrenching open my door, I rush to the trunk of the car. It’s well equipped with all my usual safety stuff, and I say a silent prayer of thanks to Man as I grab a fire extinguisher. It feels like my legs are made of lead as I sprint towards the screaming fireball. The scent of burning rubber and smoke is heavy in the air, choking me as I pull the pin and aim the extinguisher at him.
White foam explodes out of the nozzle in a thick blanket. I swish it from side to side, but it still feels like it takes forever for the burning to fizzle out. When it does, it leaves behind a blackened and bleeding mess on the cracked desert ground.
He’s no longer screaming.
That doesn’t mean anything,I console myself. The smoke might have knocked him out.
I have to get him to a hospital.
My gut churns, and nausea burns at the back of my throat as I sprint back to the car, abandoning him just long enough to grab the fireproof gloves I keep on hand for emergencies. Even with those the heat makes freeing him from the already partially melted rubber a challenge. I do it anyway, stripping off my fire-retardant jacket to add more layers between me and the heat.
“Stay alive,” I order, as I remove the final tire and he groans in pain. “You hear me, Sully? Stay alive!”
Hefting his burned and groaning body to the backseat of the car takes work. In the end, I roll him onto a fire blanket and use it to drag him over the desert floor and into the back seat.
The drive to the nearest hospital is long, too long, and his groans get quieter and quieter as we go.
“Stay alive for me, Sully,” I demand, hitting the accelerator. “You’re not going to die.”
I have no idea what I’m going to say when we get to the hospital, but I’ll think of something. If nothing else, I can call Man and ask for help, though it stings my pride to do so.
Shit. This was not how tonight was supposed to go.
Twenty-Eight
Dodger
Miguel curses the four of us for the entire journey back to the city. We’re all so numb we just sit there and take it. Gabrielle is shaking, pressing herself against the door in a vain attempt to escape the anger of the maniac in the car with us as he alternates between cursing her, us, and his security out in English and Spanish.
The SUV reeks of smoke, reminding us of the horror we just witnessed, and the driver is taking the longest route back to the hotel, trying to ensure we aren’t followed.
All I can do is hope that the cops get them. I swear, if we’re arrested, I won’t even take a plea deal. I’ll just testify with everything I’ve got to make sure these assholes stay in prison for the rest of their natural lives.
Sully. Fuck.
I can’t believe they killed Sully. We’ve lost Sully.
The car rocks to a stop outside the same El Paso hotel we left hours ago, but we’re not the same men. If hearts can bleed from grief, mine is haemorrhaging.
“Get the fuck out,” Miguel orders. “No more fuck-ups, or I’ll make what Roberto did to your beloved old man look like a party trick. You stupid shits have noideawhat you just screwed up for me.”
He doesn’t have to tell us twice. Slate and Prophet throw open the doors, jumping out, and I lurch after them, dragging Arlo behind me. There’s barely a chance for us to step away before Miguel’s car speeds off, leaving us on the sidewalk.
