Hunt Her Down (36 page)

Mom!

Without thinking, he tried to push Viejo back. The old man stumbled, but managed to pull

out his gun and forced Quinn back into the chair.

His mom screamed again, and the old man lunged forward. He slammed the gun into

Quinn’s hand, the other holding the dagger right on his neck.

“Shoot me.”

“What?”

“Kill me.”

He shook his head. “No way. I’m not killing you. I’m not killing anyone.”

The door knob rattled frantically. The knife pierced his skin. Pathetic eyes locked on

Quinn’s.

“Take this gun and put it at my heart and pull the trigger. I will not die by my own hand.

And I will not wait around for God to do the job!”

Shaking, Quinn took the gun. “Come on, don’t make me do this.” His voice cracked and he

glanced at the door. “Mom?”

The knife went a little deeper. “Be a man and kill me.”

He didn’t want to be that kind of man.

“Point it at me!” Viejo ground out, pressing the knife in deep enough that searing, hot pain

made Quinn moan.

Quinn jumped at another crack of a gunshot and the sound of splintering wood.

The old man straightened, keeping the knife against Quinn’s neck so he couldn’t turn.

But Viejo looked stunned. Shocked. His face drained of color, but the knife stayed on

Quinn’s neck.

“Put the knife down, Viejo.”

It was
Dan
. Quinn’s head swam with fear and shock and mind-boggling revelations.

“
You
kill me, Gallagher. Your son doesn’t have the nerve.”

“My son doesn’t have the reason. I do.”

The knife relaxed, the old man’s shaking hand finally letting off the pressure. Quinn put his

fingers to the wound, feeling the stickiness of blood.

Viejo stared over his head, the knife quivering in his hand as he slowly pulled away. Then

his gaze moved back to Quinn, defeat in his eyes.

“I have nothing left.” He flipped the knife and buried it in his own gut.

Quinn launched the chair backward to get out of the way, tipping it and falling, but was

caught by Dan as another gunshot exploded through the house and tires screamed out of the

driveway.

“Mom!”

“Stay with me, Quinn.” Dan dragged him through the main room to the front door, a cloud

of dust where the van had been.

“Forget it. You’ll never find him.” The voice, weak with pain, came from behind. The

asshole who’d kidnapped him lay in a pool of blood from a leg wound, his face contorted.

“Ramon Jimenez knows every back road in these hills. He has Maggie, and if you think Viejo

wanted revenge, you don’t even want to imagine what Ramon’s going to do to her.”

Anger shot through Quinn as he pounced, but Dan grabbed his shirt and held him back.

“Did you bring Ramon here?” Dan demanded. “Is he in on this with you?”

Joel tilted his head, struggling with the pain. “Do I look that stupid? This wasn’t about the

money. Not . . . for . . . me. I wanted to do . . . the right thing.”

“You failed. Miserably.”

“Let’s go get Mom,” Quinn insisted.

“We will.”

“Give it up. Ramon’s probably killed her by now.”

“Then I’m going to do what I should have done to you ten minutes ago. For lying to her.

For touching her. For hurting her.” Dan lifted his gun.

“No. I am.” From the office, a dagger came whizzing through the air straight at Joel,

landing square in his neck. Dan spun Quinn away, but he still saw it.

“He’s a traitor and he had to die.” Viejo crumpled to the ground, barely able to hold his

head up. His eyes landed on Quinn. “I wanted you to be mine.”

“Where’d they take my mom?” he demanded.

“Ramon likes the Vera tree. His mother’s buried there.”

“Let’s go,” Dan said.

They tore ass through the powdery dirt of coffee plants to the bottom of the hill, where a

little black truck was hidden between some tall trees. Still holding the old man’s revolver,

Quinn ran to the passenger side while Dan leaped into the front.

“How do you know where the Vera tree is?” Quinn asked.

“I don’t. We’re not going there.”

“Isn’t that where the old man said he’d go?”

Dan floored it out onto the main road, sending up a rooster tail of dirt as Quinn grabbed for

a seat belt that wasn’t there.

If he was taking her there, she was already dead. But he had no reason to kill Maggie. “He

wants money, and she knows where it is.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because if Ramon isn’t working with Joel, then—hang on.” He took a sharp turn without

even touching the brakes, and Quinn held his breath until they were back on four wheels.

“Ramon came on his own. He was probably watching the house and saw all of this, waiting

for his moment to come in and get her.”

“You’d better be right.”

Dan whipped by a slow-moving car.

Finally, the adrenaline in Quinn’s brain simmered down so he could think straight. He

stared at Dan, processing all the stuff he’d just learned piece by piece. He should have seen it

at first. The guy was a freaking mirror of him. But, still.

“Is it true?” Quinn asked.

Dan gave him a quick look. “Yeah, it’s true.”

Quinn looked straight ahead, his heart hammering. “Were you going to tell me?”

“When we got back. Hold on again.” He took another badass curve, almost tipping the

truck. “I had to let your mom get used to the idea first.”

“She didn’t know?”

“She thought I was dead.”

He turned on the seat in disbelief. “Really? That wasn’t in what I read.”

“You shouldn’t have read anything. And you shouldn’t have left Max’s house.”

“I know,” he said, sheepishly. “I’m sorry.”

“But I’m so glad I found you,” Dan said, his voice thick with emotion.

“You gonna cry?” Quinn asked.

“Only if something happens to your mother. I love her.”

“Me, too.” Quinn kind of laughed. “I mean, duh. She’s my mom.” He cleared his throat,

realizing that he was going to cry himself. “Anyway, it’s cool. Just, please get her.”

“That’s what we’re gonna do.” He floored the gas and the engine screamed, trees flying at a

hundred miles an hour.

If anybody could save Mom, this guy could.
He couldn’t resist whispering his favorite line

from
Top Gun
. “You can be my wingman anytime.”

“Bullshit,” Dan shot back with perfect Maverick timing. “You can be mine.”

MAGGIE STARED AT the purple-blue snake tattooed around Ramon’s arm as he held a revolver

in his right hand and the wheel in his left. Then her gaze went back to the unfamiliar road.

They hadn’t come this way. They were headed east, back to Maracaibo, to the warehouse.

But if Dan was following he’d never find her on this road, because it was surely a secret

known only to locals.

They didn’t see another car or person as they cruised around the other side of a mountain

and rumbled toward the money Ramon wanted so much.

Clouds gathered and a gentle rain shower spattered the van’s windshield, whipped away by

the wipers. The snake tattoo and the rain and the wipers transported Maggie back to another

bad ride with Ramon at the wheel.

“You shamed me.” The comment came from nowhere, and was said with such loathing that

she glanced at the gun to be sure he wasn’t going to fire.

“I’m sorry.” She wasn’t. But she was very sorry she was here. Sorry she had let Dan go

after Quinn and went back to lock Joel in that room, only to come face-to-face with Ramon.

Sorry she didn’t scream for help—but he’d have shot her then, instead of now.

“You will take me to the money, or you will die.”

He didn’t speak again, driving wildly around the mountain pass, through a tunnel hidden by

foliage. Trash on the floor, a roll of tape, an empty can, all tumbled as they made each turn.

Before long the traffic picked up, and so did the rain, intensifying to a downpour, the clouds

blocking the sun enough that he had to turn the lights on.

At the outskirts of Maracaibo, the ghettos multiplied. Before long they were rumbling

through the streets of Las Marías, past the farmer’s market, past the warehouses that all

looked exactly alike.

“It’s near here,” she said, looking around. “But it’s hard to say exactly where because it was

dark.”

He lifted the gun. “Does this help your memory?”

No. “We need to find an empty parking lot. With a bus. And an alley.” The streets all ran

together with no distinct landmarks. Just battered warehouses, dilapidated huts, the occasional

groceria
or fish house.

“If we go up and down every street, I think I’ll know it.” And maybe that would be enough

time for Dan to put two and two together . . . although it would be a stretch to come back

here. Still, it was the only hope she had.

Ramon started down one street, turned at the last building, went down another, then

another, then another. Each time, his frustration grew and he waved the gun at her.

Finally she saw the bus covered with graffiti and rust.

“There! That’s the bus, so that’s the alley. The warehouse on the left. The money is in there.

It looks like tools, but it’s gold.”

He pinned her with a hard glare like the one she remembered from the night of the bust. “It

better be, Maggie.”

He parked the van behind the bus, blocking it from street view, and made her get out first.

The rain soaked her almost immediately. She considered running, but where? He’d shoot. He

might anyway, now that they were there.

In the alley, the rats were still. The door was open. And the smell of death rolled over

everything.

He pushed her inside and she stumbled, then squinted into the darkness. It was quiet. And

almost completely empty.

“Where is it?” he demanded with another hard push. “Where the fuck are these crates, you

lying whore?”

There was just one now, and she knew it had only a dead body in it.

“Maybe this is the wrong warehouse.” It wasn’t, but she had to buy time.

“Or maybe you are fucking with me again, Maggie.” He raised the gun.

“No, there’s another place! Another possibility.”

He flipped the lid of the only crate, made a face, and let it thud down. “You’re lying.”

“I don’t—”

“Yes, you do. You lie better than anyone.”

She would now. “Ramon, there are a few more roads. Take me back to the car. Let’s look.”

She’d run, and risk being shot. She could escape him in these streets. She had to. “Please. No

one could have taken all that money in that amount of time. There were so many crates.” His

eyes widened. “All filled with gold tools.”

He pushed her toward the door, jamming the gun in her back. “One more chance is all you

get. Then you’ll be in that crate with him.”

They ran through the rain, reaching the parking lot just as the lights of a car washed the

area in yellow. Ramon shoved her into the driver’s side, pushing her across the seat, then

turned the ignition on. Maggie glanced into the side-view mirror. It was the black truck. It was

Dan!

She couldn’t let Ramon know. As soon as he pulled out, she’d get Dan’s attention. She’d

lean on the horn or scream or
something
.

But Ramon looked at the mirror and stopped. Did he recognize the truck? Had he seen

Dan? She worked to keep her expression impassive, but her heart hammered as he kept his

eye on the side-view mirror.

The truck slowed at the alley.

“I think we’re close,” she said calmly. “If we just—”

His hand cracked over her mouth, a ring hitting her teeth. “Shut up.” He reached to the

floor and grabbed the duct tape. Yanking off a long piece, he slapped it over her mouth.

“Turn around.” She turned toward the window, struggling to breathe as he taped her hands

behind her. “Feet,” he said. “Give them to me.”

She lifted her legs and he bound her ankles, the tape screaming as he unrolled long strips.

“Lie down,” he ordered as he climbed out. “All the way down and stay there, or you’re

dead.”

As she flattened herself on the seat, Ramon slammed the door shut, but she rolled over

enough to see what he was doing.

He was inching around the bus, his gun out, ready to shoot.

She lifted herself higher, just enough to see the rearview mirror. The truck had stopped right

where they’d parked it the last time they were here. Where he could make a quick getaway.

Ramon moved into position, his weapon out. Was Dan in the warehouse? In the alley? Was

Quinn with him? Ramon could shoot them both.

How could she warn them?

The brights! If she could just get to the stick on the steering column, she could flash the

brights. Would Dan see? Would he remember the old signal?

She inched forward, her memory slipping back to Ramon’s old taunt.

You know how to do that Maggie, or are you so stupid you can’t flash the brights?

She got her cheek on the end of the flasher. In the sideview mirror, she saw Ramon

straighten.

She pressed her cheek to the stick and moved her head. Everything got brighter. She did it

again. And one more time.

Please, Dan. If you’re ever going to read a sign from the universe, let it be now
.

Dan had one foot in the alley when he saw it. A light, barely noticeable in the rain, from

behind the burned-out bus.

The flash of the brights.

Maggie.

He pushed Quinn back into the warehouse.