Forced to Kill

  Nathan hit the deck and rolled to his left, seeking the cover of a small landscaped alcove.

  Steeling himself for a bullet, he inwardly cursed.

  ***

  Montez couldn’t believe it. Without warning, McBride dropped and rolled into cover. What tipped him off? The bloody footprint ruse should’ve worked. He’d fully expected McBride to freeze in confusion and turn around. But it didn’t happen. The man obviously had a quick mind and swift reactions.

  Now what? The blood pooling in his shoe reflected the desperation of his situation. He didn’t have time for a prolonged engagement.

  And that security guard could return at any moment.

  He needed a new plan. Fast.

  ***

  The bullet never came.

  He flattened himself against the wall inside a small alcove and took a deep breath.

  Stephen King, I owe you one.

  Now what? There wasn’t time to wait for Montez’s next move.

  And the security guard could reappear any second. SDPD too. One of their A-Star helicopters was probably on the way.

  He scanned the concrete for drops of blood toward the south. Nothing. If Montez had hopped on one foot to disguise his blood trail, there’d still be drops of blood going that direction.

  He needed options.

  Think, Nathan.

  Think.

  And then it came to him.

  ***

  A sickening chill hammered Montez as he realized what was happening. No. Not now!

  His cell phone had chirped to life.

  He’d forgotten to mute it. In the near silence of the park, it sounded like a blaring car alarm. He quickly switched gun hands and reached into his pants pocket. He needed to silence the damned thing before it rang a third time.

  ***

  Without hesitating, Nathan pocketed his phone and sprinted toward the ringing sound, his approach silent.

  Gun first, he approached the souvenir kiosks from the opposite side of the walkway. He knew he’d scored a direct hit when the ringing ended in the middle of the third chime. It hadn’t lasted long enough to be forwarded to voice mail.

  Montez.

  But there were three kiosks, which meant two places to hide between them.

  Which one?

  If he guessed wrong, it could be fatal. Going with instinct, he rushed the first gap and caught Montez peering around the opposite side.

  Bingo.

  Three steps later, he drove the butt of his gun onto the base of Montez’s skull and had the satisfaction of seeing his former tormentor collapse to his knees.

  The small handgun clattered away into the walkway.

  And now, you’re mine.

  Chapter 44

  “Well, well, well, if it isn’t my old pal, Monty Goose.” Nathan felt the other stir, like a bull testing its steel enclosure. Keeping his face hidden in shadow, he retrieved Montez’s pistol from the walkway before kicking his captive onto his side. He patted him down for additional weapons. Nothing. But in Montez’s inner vest pocket, he found a thumb drive.

  “W—who are you?”

  “You don’t recognize my voice? Then take a look.” He moved his face into the orange light slicing into the gap between the kiosks.

  “You!”

  “Yes, me.”

  The expression on Montez’s face told all. Nathan had thought he’d take pleasure in the man’s shocked recognition. Instead, he felt sick to his stomach. Conflicting emotions assaulted him, unbidden.

  Loathing of the vicious thing inside him.

  Fear of being two people locked in the same body.

  Shame at the knowledge.

  But, worst of all, hatred. Acidic and crippling. He owned a hatred so strong, it had permanently etched itself onto his soul. And all because of this sadistic shithead. The temptation to unleash the other and grant it vengeance was strong.

  “But— but you’re—”

  “Dead?” He yanked Montez close and squinted. “Do I look dead?”

  “But they found your body at the camp.”

  He slapped Montez’s face. “Do I feel dead?” He drew his Predator knife and brought it up to eye level. “Shall we get started?”

  “Wait!”

  “For what?”

  “My men are holding a man and his daughters. An important man. I’ve given them orders to kill all of them, and I’m the only one who can call it off.”

  He moved the knife to the side of Montez’s face and pressed the tip into his cheek. A bead of blood formed.

  “Please, stop. I’ll call it off.”

  “Where’s your cell phone?”

  “Pants.”

  Feeling revulsion, he reached into Montez’s pocket.

  “Listen up, Monty. Cooperate and you’ll earn a few brownie points. And trust me, you’re going to need them. Tell your men you killed me, but you were shot in the process. Order them to return to the marina immediately without killing anyone. Tell them to sit tight until they hear from you again, no matter how long it takes. You got that?”

  Montez nodded.

  How much time did he have? The sirens he’d heard earlier had gone silent. Were the police already here, entering Belmont Park right now?

  “Put it on speaker and make the call. Do you normally speak Spanish?”

  “No.”

  “If you’re lying—”

  “I’m not. I make my men practice English as much as possible.” Montez had grown calmer. Perhaps blood loss was taking a toll.

  “Make the call.”

  Montez complied, and Nathan listened to the brief conversation for anything sounding like code. As far as he could tell, Montez did exactly as told. Nathan took the phone back.

  “You don’t have to torture me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “Of that I have no doubt.”

  “Hurting me won’t solve anything.”

  “I strongly disagree. I have a bullwhip in my closet with your name on it. But first, we’re going to walk out of here.”

  Nathan forced Montez onto his stomach, put a knee into his back, and yanked Montez’s Windbreaker up. Using his Predator, he cut a twelve-inch strip from Montez’s black sweatshirt, rolled it into a rope, and forced it into Montez’s mouth. He tied the gag tight, nice and uncomfortable. He cut a four-inch strip to use on Montez’s bullet wound as a pressure bandage. Montez grunted when he wrapped it in position. He used a third strip to secure Montez’s hands behind his back.

  He slid his Predator into its sheath, pocketed the two handguns, and hauled Montez to his feet. Montez refused to walk when prodded.

  “Either you walk out of here, or I bash your skull and drag you by your ponytail. I’m good either way.”

  Montez nodded.

  “Good boy.”

  He looked in both directions but saw no sign of the security guard. The stinging in his feet returned in force, the latest adrenaline rush having worn off. If he could just hang tough a little longer.

  He visualized the park’s map in his mind and recalled that the most direct exit path from his current position followed the bumper car ride to the west and turned south along the building housing the giant indoor pool. He gave Montez a firm shove in that direction.

  “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 45

  Nathan and his captive were in roughly the same shape, barely able to walk. He needed a vehicle. Harv would probably be in an ambulance by now, unavailable. The idea of hot-wiring a car didn’t work either. Most automobiles couldn’t be hot-wired in the old-fashioned way, and many others employed obnoxious alarms and hidden tracking devices.

  He cycled through his options again, then stopped.

  Grangeland. She’d have Nichole Dalton in Dr. Reavie’s care by now.

  He dragged Montez into the shadows of the building on his left and forced him to sit against the wall. He pulled out his cell.

  “Nathan? Is everything okay?”

  “I’m fine. What’s the status o
f Nichole Dalton?”

  “She’s in surgery right now.”

  “For how long?”

  “I’m not sure. Probably a few hours. She needs hundreds of sutures.”

  “I need you and your vehicle right away.”

  “Where are you?”

  “Belmont Park in Mission Beach. Know where it is?”

  “Yes, it’s in the sedan’s nav. I’m on the I-five heading south. I just passed the Garnet exit.”

  “How did you—” He answered his own question. “Harv.”

  “He called right after you took off after Montez, thought you might need an extra gun. He also said he heard a shot and didn’t want to risk calling you.”

  “Is Harv okay?”

  “A retired nurse is helping him. He’s going to be fine. Do you have Montez in custody?”

  He closed his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Montez needs medical attention.”

  “You didn’t—”

  “No. He’s got a bullet wound to the leg.”

  “How will I find you?”

  “Head to the south end of Belmont Park and turn right into the parking lot. Go straight ahead. We’ll be at the boardwalk near a freestanding building. I think it’s a public restroom. Cops in the area responding to reported gunshots. Call Harvey and update him, tell him I’m okay.”

  “I will.”

  “My feet are in bad shape from broken glass.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

  He called Cantrell next.

  “Echo five?” she asked.

  “Affirmative. Echo four is down. Pay phone not available. Target apprehended alive.”

  “What’s Echo four’s condition?”

  He heard the concern in her voice for Harv and appreciated it. “Stable.”

  “Your location?”

  “Not on an open line.”

  “Preserve target at all costs. I repeat, preserve tar—”

  He ended the call before she finished and hauled Montez up from the ground. Thankfully, the lighting was considerably less intrusive back here. He wondered if Belmont Park employed more than one security guard. With a little luck, he’d be clear of this place in the next ten seconds with no one the wiser.

  That’s when he saw it—a bright beam from a police cruiser swept across the parking lot. Keeping his prisoner controlled became critical. Without a doubt, Montez would prefer to be in police custody.

  The beam swept back the opposite direction, but its brightness had grown.

  He forced Montez into a small U-shaped alcove deep with shadow and listened as the police cruiser arrived. A split second later, the cruiser’s red and blue strobe light illuminated the plaza. Predictably, its obnoxious spotlight beam invaded the exact path he needed to take. Even from twenty feet away—and without seeing its source directly—the blinding light destroyed his night vision. He’d need at least thirty seconds for it to return. He turned his head and closed his eyes. Just breathe. In deep, out slowly—

  Then he heard a chilling sound.

  Quick, hard-soled footfalls.

  And the distinctive jingle that accompanies a security guard. From behind, the way he’d just come.

  Montez’s bloody footprints.

  He reached into his pocket, pulled the Sig, and huddled over Montez. Nathan clamped his free hand over the gag and jammed the Sig’s suppressor under Montez’s chin.

  The same security guard he’d seen earlier stomped into view, but surprisingly, didn’t seem to be following footprints. The guard ran past his hiding place and rounded the corner. Things would’ve turned ugly if the guard had looked in his direction.

  He eased his weight off of Montez enough to gain his feet.

  The next thirty seconds stretched into an eternity.

  Catching him completely off guard, Montez drove his head back and smashed him squarely on the chin.

  His vision grayed, then winked out.

  He tightened his grip on the Sig in case Montez made a move for it.

  Blinded from the impact, he struggled to keep his balance and swung the pistol like a club.

  And missed.

  His vision returned in time to see Montez limp around the corner toward the police cruiser.

  He took off in pursuit.

  Montez stopped fifteen feet from the SDPD officer and dropped to the ground. He watched Montez bring his knees up to his chest and force his bound hands over the top of his legs. With his hands free in front, Montez stood up and yanked the gag out of his mouth.

  “Officer. Help me. Please, help me!”

  The officer’s response was immediate. He pulled his sidearm and yelled, “Get on the ground now! Both of you. On the ground. Now!” He looked at Nathan and yelled, “Put the gun down, now!”

  Nathan bent down and placed Harv’s Sig on the concrete. He didn’t want to be shot and didn’t want the officer’s attention focused solely on himself.

  Montez closed the distance, continuing his phony tirade.

  The officer looked at Montez and continued his verbal command to get on the ground, but Montez—less than three yards away—took a final step and leaped forward, driving both of them into the fender of the cruiser.

  Nathan picked up the Sig and watched the situation go from urgent to critical. Twenty-five yards distant, the unarmed security guard ran forward, yelling, “Don’t move! Don’t move!”

  Montez used his momentum to drive the officer’s head onto the hood of the cruiser, the impact produced a loud bang. Even with bound wrists, Montez managed to yank the officer’s sidearm free. He pistol-whipped the dazed cop and turned toward the security guard.

  The guard continued running. Either he didn’t see that Montez had grabbed the officer’s weapon, or he was trying to be a hero. Either way, it sealed his fate.

  Montez brought the gun up and fired twice, the reports thunderous.

  Nathan squinted as two impacts appeared on the security guard’s chest.

  With an expression of disbelief, the guard dropped to his knees and looked at the spreading bloodstains on his uniform.

  Nathan ducked behind a white column of the entry facade a split second before Montez fired. The bullet ricocheted off the painted concrete and whistled away.

  He peered around the edge of the column. Montez had his bound wrists up at his mouth, untying the knot.

  The officer had recovered enough to make a grab for his weapon.

  Montez reacted fast. He thrust a knee up and caught the officer squarely in the chest.

  Remarkably, the officer kept his feet and made a second attempt for his sidearm. Within seconds, they were locked in a macabre embrace. Dazed and weakened from two head blows, the SDPD officer was losing the struggle.

  In five seconds it would be over. Montez would kill the officer and use his cruiser to escape.

  Tapping into pure rage, Nathan ignored his wrecked feet and charged.

  Montez looked up from his struggle and jerked free of the officer’s grasp. Before Nathan got there, Montez had the officer wrapped up as a human shield.

  He stopped advancing when Montez put the gun against the officer’s head.

  “Don’t come any closer. I’ll kill him. I swear I’ll do it.”

  Nathan kept Harv’s gun up and toggled the laser. A bright red dot appeared on Montez’s forehead. “Well? What are you waiting for?”

  “Don’t come any closer. I’ll kill him.”

  “Go ahead, kill him. I’ll sacrifice that man before I’ll let you escape.”

  The officer’s eyes grew.

  Nathan took a step forward.

  “I’m leaving,” Montez yelled. “The officer’s coming with me as my hostage.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Don’t come any closer. I’ll kill him. You know I’ll do it!”

  “I want you to do it.”

  “You’re insane.”

  He took another step. “Think maybe you had something to do with that?
”

  “I’ll do it. You know I’ll do it!”

  “Don’t bother.” He made eye contact with the officer and issued a slight nod. The officer closed his eyes and returned the nod.

  Nathan moved his laser to the officer’s chest—

  And pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 46

  In the next instant, three things happened simultaneously.

  Nathan’s subsonic round shuddered the officer.

  The officer jerked his head back.

  And Montez pulled the trigger.

  The shot missed the officer’s head by millimeters, but his eardrums would pay a heavy price.

  Before Montez could squeeze off a second shot, Nathan sprinted forward and slammed his entire weight into both of them. All three ended up sprawled across the hood of the cruiser.

  Montez’s grasp on the officer slipped.

  Nathan drove his forehead into Montez’s nose and had the satisfaction of feeling it collapse.

  The gun clattered out of Montez’s hand and slid down the hood toward the grille.

  Struggling to catch his breath from the bullet’s impact on his ballistic vest, the police officer fell sideways. Nathan tried to grab his uniform, but missed. The man fell to the sidewalk and cracked his head on the concrete.

  He grabbed Montez by the throat and clamped down. “I should kill you right here and now.”

  “I made a deal for your life.” Montez said through clenched teeth.

  “So I heard.” Nathan threw his former interrogator to the ground and kicked him in the stomach. Hard. Montez coughed and curled into the fetal position. Using his pistol, he hammered the back of Montez’s head.

  Nathan bent over, checked the officer, and found him semiconscious with several facial cuts, but otherwise okay.

  “I can’t stay,” he said. “I promise to clear this up. You have my word.”

  “W—Who are you?”

  He grabbed the lapel mike from the officer’s uniform and pressed the transmit button. “Officer down, south parking lot, Belmont Park. Officer down.” He re-clipped the mike to the officer’s uniform. “Don’t try to get up. Backup’s on the way.”