Mastering the Devil (Rush Series Book 4) (15 page)

jefe ordered the one closest to John to dig the keys out of John’s pocket. Once that was completed, jefe raised his rifle and began to take aim at John’s still motionless body.

“Now, Erick, now,” Alex snapped, as he raised his own weapon over the hood of the station-wagon.

Alex saw jefe’s body jerk with the impact of the bullet a second before the crack of Erick’s rifle filled the confined space. Almost simultaneously, every head turned towards the sound of the shot, as jefe fell, John rolled under the cover of the delivery truck. John continued to roll until he cleared the truck. As he ran, Alex and Erick began firing off rounds to provide cover until John made it safely next to Alex, bodies falling in rapid concession. From behind his back, tucked inside the waistband of his pants, Alex pulled and handed John a weapon. The Hispanic man who’d given jefe the go-ahead to shoot John yelled something in Spanish and suddenly there was commotion everywhere as bullets flew from all directions, both from Alex’s team as well as from the thugs.

The station-wagon Alex and John were hankered down behind, soon became r
iddled with bullets. Shots were also being fired in Erick’s direction, even though they had no clear idea where the shooter was. Alex had knelt down on one knee behind the car to reload when something slammed into his thigh. It felt like a stinging ball of fire and he swore under his breath as he continued to load his weapon. Rising up on his uninjured leg, he began picking off person after person as blood gushed from his thigh.

A loud whistle filled
the air, then suddenly there was instant chaos as the remaining thugs hopped onto the back of the truck they’d arrived in as well as sliding behind the wheel of the delivery truck John had been driving. The screeching of tires echoed throughout the narrow street. In a flash, the only things remaining of the battle which had been warred was the dust hanging in the air and the bodies scattered on the street.

Alex stood and watched as the trucks roared away. He’d glanced down at
John who was grinning up at him, he grinned back and reached into his pocket to retrieve his cellphone to activate the tracer in the truck, when suddenly what felt like a boulder slammed into his head. Confusion marred his features as slowly the gun and cellphone slipped from his fingers and he wobbled on his feet. He took a step back onto his injured leg and crumbled to the ground a second before unconsciousness claimed him.

Chapter 8

Devon sat motionlessly,
staring out the window in Cash’s hospital room waiting on him to come out of surgery. They’d not even been aware of the seriousness of his injuries until he’d collapsed in the ER while they were relocating her shoulder once more. The medical staff had, of course, wanted to clean the numerous abrasions, cuts, and gashes covering his torso, shoulders, and arms, but he’d been resistant, telling them he’d had worse. She had cringed at the severe sunburn-like look of his body, but he’d only laughed that off as well. The Fire Chief had told them at the scene that Cash had been lucky he’d not been wearing a shirt, or the melted material would have caused much more damage to his skin.
Lucky
? That wasn’t a word she’d have applied to any of this. The burns across his back and shoulders had been so much worse than even Cash had imagined.

After talking to the Fire Chief, Cash had been insistent on coming to the hospital with her. She’d tried to talk him out of it, really needing to be alone to try and pull herself together, but he’d brushed her arguments aside.
Not that she’d been in any position to judge as out of it as she’d been, but it’d seemed one minute Cash had been fine and in the next, he’d paled and stumbled into a nearby gurney. They’d immediately begun running tests and soon realized he was bleeding internally. At that point, they’d rushed him upstairs into surgery. Someone from the surgeon’s team had come back down eventually and told her that Cash had somehow punctured his liver in the explosion. They wouldn’t know the full extent of the injury until they opened him up. Now, she sat tightly bound – both inside and out – while she waited for some news.

She knew she should be feeling something… anything. But she felt nothing. She was like an empty shell – a husk that would ultimately wither up and blow away. The events that had transpired since she’d found the address to where her mother had been seemed… surreal. It was like it was some fairytale she’d told herself… or horror story. She glanced down and was almost surprised to realize she was still dressed in her shorts and T-shirt. Her
unbound arm was covered in cuts and gashes; as were her legs. She lifted a hand to her face and felt cuts and scrapes there as well; not that it really mattered what she looked like.

She lifted her eyes to the clock positioned on the other side of the mounted television. Cash had been in surgery for more than three hours.
That couldn’t be a good sign,
she couldn’t help but think. She didn’t know what she’d do if anything happened to him. He was absolutely the last person she had left in her life. If he died, it would also be her fault. First Roman… then her mother… and now Cash. If he died, they’d all have died trying to keep her safe. Apparently, she was the only one who realized she wasn’t really worth their sacrifices.

Her eyes drifted to the muted television as a picture of her
crumbled and still smoldering house was flashed across the screen. Her gaze lingered as the local news reporter’s lips moved and her hands gestured excitedly behind her at what had been her home for the bulk of her life. Now it was gone… it was
all
gone – her home, her family, the career she’d believed in, and Alex. Emotionlessly, she turned her head away and stared once more out the window.

She sat in her bubble of isolation for another two hours before the surgeon came back into the room.
Cash had lost a lot of blood, but they’d been able to repair the damage. They expected him to make a full recover, but it wouldn’t be a quick process. He’d need to take it easy for several weeks while his body healed.

“He’s currently down in the recovery room and won’t be moved back down here until tomorrow. You might as well go back to your own room,” the doctor said.

She shook her head. “I’m fine here,” she said tonelessly.

“You need to rest… give your own body a chance to heal,” he said
with rebuke.

Instead of answering, she turned her gaze back to the now blackened window, effectively shutting him out of her world. With silent steps, he walked out of the room shaking his head at the woman who’d clearly gone insane.

~M~

A high piercing whistle seemed to be tumbling around Alex’s
brain. He tried to bury his head into the pillow to evade it, but the movement caused sharp shafts of pain to pound like spikes into his skull. He tried to draw his body up in self-defense against the pain, but a harsh burning in his leg had him sucking in sharply and stopping immediately. He lifted a hand to press it against the pain in his head and was surprised to feel bandages there. 

Memories from the battle they’d fought against the armed men in the middle of the street came to him suddenly. He remembered it being over, then looking down at John before
something slammed into his head. Once again he lifted a hand and patted it against the bandage. Had someone thrown a rock or something at him? He opened his eyes and was surprised to find himself back in his hotel room in Mexico City. He attempted to sit up, but slender hands stayed him. He glanced in the woman’s direction and encountered another surprise when he looked into the soft blue eyes of Dr. Ensley Ingram.

“You need to lie still,” she reprimanded gently.

He blinked up at her in confusion. “Why are you here?” he asked.

“Your friends came and got me. You really should be in a hospital. But they wouldn’t have it. I’ve done the best I could do with such limited resources,” she said as she checked the bandage on his head.

He clenched his jaw against the pain even at her gentle touch. “They were right. The hospital would have had to notify the police of a gunshot wound. What happened to my head?” Finding that the sound of his own voice vibrated harshly within his skull, caused him to winch.

“Not as much as what could have happened. If the bullet had been even half an inch to the right, you’d be dead. Who was shooting at you? And why wouldn’t you want the police notified?” she asked
, pausing in her ministrations.

Alex met her gaze steadily but didn’t answer
the question. Instead he asked, “Where’s John and Erick?”

She blinked at him as she chewed the inside of her lip thoughtfully. Ignoring his question as he’d ignored hers, she asked softly and hesitantly, “Are you involved in drugs or something?”

His lips twisted into a smile, finding even that small movement hurt, and he placed one of his roughened hands over one of her smooth, soft ones. “No, it’s nothing like that, I promise.” He continued to hold her gaze until her eyes cleared of its suspension and she nodded, relief evident in her face.

“So, where are John and Erick?” he asked again.

“In the next room. They were pretty wiped,” she replied.

“I need to see them.”

“Okay, I’ll go get them.”

He patted her hand once more. “
Thanks. So what’s the damage?” he asked, as a rush of exhaustion seemed to flow over him at even their very limited conversation.

In a clearly clinical, detached fashion, falling
easily into her physician’s role, she said, “You sustained a through and through GSW in your upper thigh. Surprisingly, outside of severe tissue damage, it wasn’t too bad and if you stay off of it for a few days and let it repair itself, it should heal perfectly. You sustained a severe concussion and laceration when, with what I assumed to be a fired bullet, sliced through the skin above your temple. And lastly, you sustained blunt trauma to the back of your head, and again in what I assume to be from falling and hitting your head on the curb, or something hard and uneven on the ground.”

He exhaled and fought against the need to close his eyes and sleep. “I really need to see those guys right away, okay?”

“Okay, but only for a few minutes. You really need your rest right now,” she said, moving swiftly to the door.

She returned within the same minute, followed closely by John and Erick. Alex glanced over them quickly looking for injuries, but they looked none the worse for wear.

“Well, look who’s finally awake,” John said with a grin.

“Before we go on another mission together, you need to lose a few pounds, Masters. You weight a ton!” Erick groused good-naturedly.

Alex flashed them a thin grin before glancing at Ensley. “Umm, Ensley… I really need to speak to these guys privately, if you don’t mind.”

She gave a quick nod of her head. “I’ll go take a quick shower. You have ten minutes!” she said sternly.

This caused both men to laugh at such demand coming from the pint-sized woman. Alex gave her a small grin. “Yes, ma’am.”

The room remained silent, and all
eyes remained fixed on the young blonde until the door closed behind her.

Both men turned back to Alex and John was the first to break the silence. “Damn, Alex! You have all the luck! I’d give anything to have an injury so that woman would sit by my bedside.” He grinned before adding, “Of course, I’d like to have hyperthermia so she’d be forced to l
ie up next to me to keep me warm. Hell, maybe I could talk her into shedding her clothes… you know, survival 101, body heat and all that.” Laughter shook his shoulders as he spoke.

Alex’s lips twisted wryly. “She’s a doctor and much too smart to fall for anything you’d try on her.”

Erick grinned. “Yeah, but we haven’t worked in the CIA all these years for nothing. I may have picked up a trick or two on how to manipulate people into doing what I want.”

Alex shook his head at the jovial comments. Shifting his mind back to the purpose of their venture, he face smoothed into serious lines. Almost immediately, the other two prior CIA agents stood a little straighter and their faces donned the same serious expression. Time for play was officially over.

“So, what happened?” Alex asked, looking between John and Erick.

Erick gave a small nod to John, indicating for him to provide the requested information.

John cleared his throat, and with the detached tone of man reciting the events of any proper CIA operation, he began to summarize the details. “Once the firing had been suspended and the perps began pulling away, you stood and a single shot was fired which scrapped along the side of your head causing you to fall. I was able to drag you into a nearby alley until Erick could obtain our vehicle. We were out of the scene within eight minutes. We went in the same direction as the truck for as long as it took to initiate the tracking and video devices, then came here. We ‘secured’ the information of Doctor Ingram’s room number and brought her here at 1700 hours. Once things were secure here, we got a room next door and set up the tracking equipment.” John stopped his narration and deferred to Erick, who picked it up without hesitation Evidence of a team that had been functioning together for long time.

“
The perps drove the vehicle to a small garage located on the southwest side of PUERTO VALLARTA. They stayed with the vehicle for approximately forty-seven minutes before departing. There hasn’t been any additional movement into or within the garage since that time.”