TAG (31 page)

“I’ll catch you,” he says, placing a soft kiss on my cheek. He clips a rope between us, and tugs on it to show its security.

After a short informative introduction to rock climbing, we’re
scaling upward. It’s not as bad as I thought it would be. I curl my
fingertips around the lip of a rock and shove my toe into the crevice of a boulder below. I press upward and lift myself to the next resting place. We stop every few minutes to let our muscles relax since according to Tango, if our muscles lock up, that’s when we’ll cramp and lose our grip. Right now my arms and legs are trembling and my fingers are burning, and the top still looks far away. I twist my head over my
shoulder and take in the distance from where I’m clinging to the base of the canyon. From this view, it looks like we’ve already climbed at least a quarter of a mile. How the hell did Dad make it up here?

Tango’s hanging next to me, Seaver is at the next ledge, and Kacen is below, belaying us. I watch Seaver search the surrounding area above his head, and I watch as his head jerks to a stop. His eyes
sift forward and then down to Tango. He points his forefinger and middle finger
at his eyes and nudges his head up and to the left. I don’t shift my
head, but I shoot my focus up in that direction.

The sight of more men with guns, all staring directly at us nearly
causes me to lose my grip on the rim of this rock. Losing my grip
would only save them a bullet, though. So, I hang on.

 “Carolina,” Tango says between his breaths. “Don’t move.” Wouldn’t that technically be keeping me in their sights as a good
target? Are these men working for Dad or against him? The lines are a little
blurred and it’s clear I’m in the wrong place. But I’ve been in the
wrong place for the past couple of years.

I don’t move, as Tango instructed. I clench my eyes, avoiding visual contact with the bullet that will likely be soaring at my head in
a moment. I’m not sure I can survive another bullet wound—the memory of that red laser pointing at me as Reaper stood holding onto Krissy’s hundred pound body is haunting me right now. I can
feel the same fear—the type of fear one must feel when a gun is pointed at them. It’s like my insides are all weak and useless. I
would think my heart should be racing, but it’s slow—it’s chugging along to keep up with
my panicking nerves. I’m not sure if I’m even breathing. I think I may
have forgotten how to do that too. I’m staring directly at a man
pointing
his gun right toward me. I wish I knew what the chances of him hitting me from there were. There are about twenty-five feet in
between us,
and I feel like that gives him a good advantage. If it were me shooting that gun from twenty-five feet, I’d have a hole straight through his chest.

I hear the first shot. I swallow hard and squint my eyes. If I prayed, I’d do that now too, but I don’t pray. I gave that up after
Krissy was murdered. My fingers tremble and struggle to hold my weight up on this rock. I can’t let go. I’ve made it this far. I can survive this. I can.

I hear a second shot. Fear accents the sound of each of my
breaths. He still hasn’t hit me and I’m hoping this means he’s untrained in
the firearms department. If I were good at ratios, I’d say if he didn’t
hit me the first two times, or even come close, then the next three times should clear by me as well.

Time feels as if it’s lapsing over and swirling around my head as
I hear a third shot. That one was closer. I could hear the buzz swoosh by my ear. It makes me swallow the dry heave in my throat. I open my
eyes briefly to see what’s coming next, and I see the man’s arm
stretched out in front of him while his finger is pressed over the trigger. I can see him looking through his sight as he closes his left eye.

With life zooming by in slow motion, I hear the gun’s blow and feel the burn of lead stab through my leg.

TANGO

“DOWN! SHE’S DOWN!”
I hear my voice screaming. How did I let this happen?
Again
. A bite swells on my arm and I look down to see
a bullet grazed me too.
It’s nothing
.

A white flash blinds me and the flashback of Iraq and Jake’s body
trembling against the sand rips my heart out. I promised to take a bullet for him if the opportunity arose. I’m his sergeant. I promised his mother I’d
bring him home in one piece, alive. He’s only eighteen. He promised his girl they were getting married as soon as we returned. Now I have to tell his mother I lied and I have to tell his girl I’m sorry for the loss, for what she thought was her future. It’s all my fucking fault. How could I let this happen?

Jake’s body is covered with dust from the sandstorm, and another white flash covers my eyes. Screams echo from the near distance and then they stop.

My eyes refocus and I’m still hanging from a fucking canyon
and Cali is dangling beside me. Her eyes are wide and in disbelief. She’s in shock. She’s bleeding. She’s been shot. And I told her not to
move. I did it again.

I pull out a smoke grenade and toss it over to the ledge where the bullets were flying from, watching it hit the exact spot I was aiming for. The smoke forms a wall in-between us, giving us a way
out—or up.

“You’re covered,” Seaver yells down from the ledge above. As the smoke dissipates and thins out, Seaver drops over the ledge and shoots the three men down. ”Clear!” he yells.

Seaver makes his way back down toward Cali as I continue to
look around, making sure the coast is really clear. When my focus drifts down to Kacen, who’s holding the bottom rope, waiting to be pulled up last, I’m not the least bit surprised to see his mouth hanging open.
The only reason he’s still willing to help us is because he wants to reach Eli as much as we do. He won’t actually end up close enough,
but for now, we’ll use him like he was using us.

“I have her, man,” Seaver shouts.

Anger is searing through me and my lungs are burning from
breathing so heavily. This is the precise moment where I become weak and admit to myself how unfair this fucking world is. Maybe I should give up right now. Maybe I should call my time of death and
cut my
rope. It would be fast and it would be over. I’ve been fighting for my life for so long and I’m tired of fighting for something I think I deserve. Here’s the part where I say, why me? But then I look up at
Cali being
reeled up to the top and I realize I would volunteer to die a slow
death if it meant I had the opportunity to experience her—to have her in
my life, even if it’s only for a little while longer. Because if this plan
fails,
I don’t know how much time I have left. The pain I was warned
about is catching up. I don’t know how painful it’s supposed to get, but I’m getting to the point where I can’t hide it anymore. I’ve been dizzy for days, weak, and struggling to push forward. I feel weak and useless, and all I’ve done is put the woman I care about in more danger than
she’s been in since her sister died. Survival doesn’t seem like a viable option right now. My hope is almost completely gone. I’ve dragged us here on the notion that Eli has this drug in his physical
possession, when in reality, I don’t know if he does or not. If I didn’t have Cali by my side, I’d say this could have all been for nothing, but even if I don’t survive this, she was worth the fight.

CALI

The ground is bouncing below me. My toes scrape against the rocks and my body arches backwards as I’m pulled up to the top ledge. My head is placed against a bag on the ground. I’m tired and weak.
The skin on
my thigh burns brutally, and a throb pulsates from within. I look down at my leg. Blood spurts from a wound. And rather than feeling the pain, I feel nothing but anger and resentment. I’m not in the
police force. I’m
not in the military. I’m not in a gang. I’m not a convict. I haven’t
asked for shit. Yet, I’ve been shot twice in my lifetime. This isn’t fair.

Tango kneels at my side. His hands are covered in blood, and I don’t know if it’s his, mine, or from one of the other two. “You okay?” I ask.

His eyes glimmer a bit in response to my question. “You’ve been shot, and you’re asking me if
I’m
okay?”

“Are you?” I ask again.

“I’m fine. It’s only a nick,” he reassures me. I look back down at my leg. My face crumples with concern, scared to see the true
damage. “Same for you.”

“There’s no bullet in my leg?” I ask for assurance.

“No, it’s a superficial flesh wound.” He pulls out a small first aid kit and unzips it. He pulls out a small bottle filled with clear liquid and pours it over the wound. I want to scream from the burning pain, but I grit my teeth instead. He leans his head down toward my leg and blows cool air over the painful area—relief is almost
immediate. He places the bottle down and puts a decent sized bandage over the wound. He smoothes it over my leg and places a kiss on my thigh. “Out of sight, out of mind.”

 As I regain my bearings on what’s going on around us, I look across the canyon from where we were being shot from. The three
men are flattened to the ground, dead.

Kacen and Seaver are unscathed and waiting for me to pick
myself up and keep moving.

“We’re here, by the way,” Tango says, reaching his hand out to help me up.

“Here?” I scan my eyes around, but I don’t see much other than a deep hole in the ground.

Tango points at the hole to confirm my assumption. “Do you
want to go in first?” he asks.

“First? You mean you’re not coming in with me?”

“I think it might be best if he sees you first, knows your
intentions—our intentions. If you don’t agree, I will come with you.”

I shouldn’t be afraid of facing Dad alone. I should be somewhat
happy to see him, but I’m not. I’m not that ten-year-old who can be bought with gifts and hugs anymore. I’m hurt by him and I’m not sure
how to even act in his presence. Not to mention the shock of me
entering into his territory—his hideout. I wonder if he’ll even be pleased to
see me. Part of me thinks he’s hidden from me because I was a part
of
his life he wanted to forget about. If I ever had a child, I couldn’t
imagine
picking up and leaving one day, and never looking back. “I’ll be
okay,” I tell Tango.

“If he’s not in there, come right back out. If something goes
wrong, yell for me. I’ll be down there in a matter of seconds.”

For some reason, his words make me freeze. I’m supposed to
lower myself into that hole—that trap, believing Dad and Mom are actually living in there? I’m supposed to just trust Tango’s word.

Trust.

What if it’s a trap? I look over at Kacen, knowing what has to be
done first. I’ve kept my anger somewhat at bay with him, and I’ve wondered why Tango and Seaver haven’t gotten rid of him yet. But my dad and possibly my mom are down there, and this is where
Kacen goes away.

“Tango, can I speak to you privately for a minute?” I say.

He takes my elbow and leads me behind a couple of trees. “Do you not want to do this? I can go down there first if that would make you more comfortable.”

I shake my head. “No, but . . . we need to rid Kacen from this situation. He’s after my dad for the same reason Reaper was, and if
he
gets his way, you will not be getting that drug. I don’t know how
Seaver feels, and I don’t know him well enough to determine whether he’d go along with this, but we have to—“

“Yes,” he agrees simply. Tango takes his pistol out from his holster and bends his body around the trunk of the tree we’re
standing behind. I’m observing as if I’m watching a movie. Kacen’s on his phone, tapping on the keys, probably sending a message to someone telling them he found Dad’s location. He’s making this too easy. My eyes
shift to Tango, and I watch him squint his eye, about to release the trigger. I can see the contemplation swimming through his darkening irises. I’m not actually sure I can watch this, and I don’t
know if he can either. Just thinking about how much he’s seen, this is almost too much. Our thoughts must be in sync as he lowers his gun and looks
at me before dropping his focus toward the ground. “I can’t. We’ll
deal with him later. I won’t let him near your dad.”

“I understand. You don’t need to explain yourself,” I say.

“You sure you don’t want me to go down there first?” he asks again.

“No. I have this,” I say.

He pulls me back by my hand and twists me around to look at him. “You are still the coolest chick I know, Cali.” He leans down,
placing his lips by my ear. “I’m pretty damn lucky to have found you in this fucked up world we both coexist in.” He pulls back and squeezes my good shoulder gently. “Your leg good? You’ll make it down there okay, right?”

“I’m good.” I force a smile. The look of the dark hole is anything but inviting, but I have to do this . . . for me. “You know, I’m starting to think you might be the exception to my rule— you know, where I
trust
no one.” The words are harder to say than just thinking them, but I have
to do this to prove Mom wrong—maybe among all of the
untrustworthy people in this world, Tango’s one-of-a-kind.