Ramos nodded and took Sloan’s arm. In a crouching run, they rushed out of the building, passing Carlos on their way. Ramos paused to glance at the blackened and disfigured man. Carlos opened his mouth to say something, but no sound came out. Then Sloan tugged at Ramos’s arm, and he turned away, eager to leave this place behind.
They ran into the darkness, following a dirt road until they were out of breath and panting. In the distance, the fire burned bright, sending a bright orange glow into the darkness. Stopping to rest, Sloan turned to him. “How did you do that?”
Ramos held his side, panting heavily. “I added a crate of C4 to the mix. It was my contingency plan in case something went wrong.”
Sloan exhaled. “My boss is going to kill me.”
Ramos nodded his agreement. “But at least you’re still alive.”
“That all depends,” she responded. “It looks to me like we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”
“Yes,” Ramos agreed. “But we have a road to follow that should lead us somewhere.” They began walking, but more slowly this time, giving Ramos a chance to catch his breath. Soon the pain in his ribs subsided, and he breathed easier.
“It doesn’t look like anyone’s coming,” Sloan said. “That surprises me after such a huge explosion.”
“I know,” Ramos said. “But I imagine the cartels down here have all kinds of secret places for their airstrips, and the further from civilization, the better.”
“True, but I’d sure like to know where we are.” Sloan rubbed her arms against the chill. “At least it’s not as cold here as it would be at home.”
As they rounded a bend, a glimmer of lights shone in the distance, and Sloan clapped. “Look.” In her excitement, she clasped Ramos around the waist and held him tight. He would have enjoyed the contact more if it didn’t hurt his cracked ribs. But he wasn’t about to tell Sloan that.
“We’re not out of the woods yet. Any idea how we’re going to get back home?” he asked.
Sloan pulled away. “I have several contacts in Mexico. If I can use a phone, or if we can make it to the embassy in Mexico City, I’m sure I can get us home.”
“Even a hit-man like me?”
“Yes…of course.”
They walked in silence for several minutes before Sloan spoke again. “Thanks, Ramos. Even though I’ll probably get re-assigned, or worse, fired, I’m glad you blew up the truck and all the weapons…along with Carlos and his men.”
Ramos mumbled an agreement, happy to let her do all the talking, since he was still smarting that she hadn’t been truthful with him.
“What surprised me the most was the helicopter,” she continued. “Who would have thought he’d ever pull something like that?”
“Carlos was more cunning than either of us gave him credit for.”
“Maybe,” she said, stopping to face him. “But you outsmarted him…and me. You saved us both, so I guess I owe you one.”
Ramos nodded. “Yes. I think you do.”
She had the grace to duck her head. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything. It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.”
He was sure of that, since he didn’t plan on ever helping her again, no matter how nicely she asked.
“Ramos, really…I’m sorry.” Her gaze caught his. In the starlight, her eyes glistened. “You have every right to hate me, but please believe that I’d never do anything to hurt you. I admit that it was probably a mistake to involve you in this, but…I wanted to see you again, and this seemed like a perfect excuse. You don’t know how many times I’ve thought of you these last few months. We shared something special, and I wanted to see if it was still there.”
He huffed out a breath, then gave in and wrapped his arms around her. As she clung to him, he closed his eyes, savoring the feel of her body next to his. “We did have something special, but I’m not sure it could ever go anywhere. We’re both in the wrong line of work, don’t you think?”
“You could stop working for Manetto.”
His breath caught, and he stepped out of her grasp. “Babe. That’s not going to happen.” He held her gaze, willing her to understand that he meant every word. Finally, she dropped her head and nodded.
They continued down the road, each lost in their own thoughts. A moment later, the rumble of a vehicle coming toward them broke the silence. “We’d better get off the road,” Ramos said.
They hurried into the scraggly bushes beside the road and got down on their stomachs. Soon, a couple of trucks passed them. Ramos counted at least five occupants sitting in the back of each truck, most holding rifles. He was grateful it was still dark, but he knew they needed to get to safety before the sun came up.
“What do you think?” he asked Sloan. “More soldiers, or the police?”
“I don’t know. But I think they’re probably looking for Carlos and his shipment. So we need to be careful.”
They got back on the road and kept walking. An hour passed, and the sky lightened. As the sun began to rise in the East, Ramos and Sloan stepped into the little town. At an open gas station, they stopped to find out where they were. Sloan spoke to the owner in perfect Spanish, and Ramos let her do all the talking.
After a few minutes, she turned to him. “We’re about fifty miles out of Mexico City. You don’t happen to have any money in those boots of yours, do you?”
He smiled. “I always have money on me.”
Her eyes lit up. “Great, because he says he has an old motorcycle he’ll sell us. How much have you got?”
“I need to see the motorcycle first,” Ramos said. “Then we can make a deal.”
Sloan shrugged, and the man led them around to the back. Ramos scanned the area closely, his instincts on high alert for an attack. Satisfied that they were safe, he glanced at the pile of junk the man had taken them to see.
The man pulled an old blanket from the bike, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Ramos frowned. Was this guy trying to take advantage of them? The man wrestled the bike out of the pile and dusted it off with a rag he pulled from his back pocket. Grime covered the body and black leather seat, which only looked slightly better once he got done.
Sloan spoke to the man, questioning him about whether or not it even worked. She also pointed out that the back tire was flat, but he told her he could pump it up.
The name on the gas tank caught Ramos’s attention, and everything else faded into the background. It was a Triumph, and not just any Triumph, but a Bonneville Triumph. It even looked like one of the first ever made, which would put it around 1959. A vintage classic.
Of course, that didn’t mean it would run, but a sense of excitement washed over him just the same. The man pushed it around to an air compressor and filled up the tire, then added gas to the tank before heading inside to get the key.
Ramos examined the engine, frame, front and rear suspension, along with the chain, muffler, and brake levers. It had twin pipes and twin carburetors and, if everything worked, it was powerful enough to get them where they needed to go. But he wouldn’t know if it worked until he started it up.
Returning with the key, the man handed it over. Ramos inserted it, then pulled in the clutch and put the bike in neutral. Next, he turned on the choke and pulled out the kick starter. He quickly pushed down on the starter while giving it a little gas.
It didn’t work the first time, so he tried it again. By the third time, the engine caught, and he revved it a few times before it settled into the kind of purr that he liked to hear. “I’m taking it for a spin.”
Before Sloan could say a word, he put it in first and hit the road. He shifted through each gear before making a U-turn and heading back. It wasn’t as smooth as it could be, but it ran pretty well for sitting in a pile of junk.
He came to a stop in front of Sloan and turned it off, then checked the oil. Finally satisfied, he nodded. Deciding to let the man think he couldn’t speak Spanish, he glanced at Sloan. “Tell him it needs some oil. If he can add that, I?
??ll take it.”
After Sloan spoke to the man, he took Ramos’s measure before coming up with a price. The man asked for eight-hundred dollars, and Ramos let Sloan translate to give him more time to decide what to do. Eight-hundred was a steal, but he had to negotiate on the price so the guy wouldn’t feel like he’d been cheated.
“Offer him six-hundred.”
Sloan did, and the man shook his head, repeating eight-hundred or no deal. Ramos had to give the guy credit for sticking to his price. He might have haggled a little more, but they were running out of time. “Tell him I’ll take it.”
At the man’s happy smile, Ramos kept up the disgruntled act, and opened one of his pockets. He slipped his hand inside the lining and pulled out a flat bill wallet of one-hundred dollar bills. He counted out eight of them and slid the rest back in his pocket before handing the money over.
After the man added some oil, and topped off the tank with gas, Ramos started her up. With Sloan’s arms wrapped around his waist, he took off down the road. He enjoyed the feel of the breeze through his hair, and hope surged in his heart that they just might make it out of there alive.
They reached Mexico City by mid-morning. Sloan directed him to the embassy, and he pulled to a stop.
“So what happens now?” Ramos asked.
“I need to report in and let my director know what happened. I’m sure once everything is straightened out I can get us home, but it will probably take some time, maybe even a day or two.”
Ramos raised his brows. This wasn’t a scenario he liked. If he had a passport, he’d leave her there and get a flight home on his own.
She noticed his hesitation and drew a quick breath to explain. “I know you don’t want to wait, but I’m sure you’ll be fine. Besides, you’ll need a passport to get back to the states. I can arrange it all and get us on the next flight home.”
“Sure,” Ramos said. “But if it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait out here.” He glanced down the street to the nearest open food court. “I’ll be over there. When you’re done, just come and find me.”
Sloan’s eyes widened. “Uh…can’t you just come with me? You can corroborate my story. It’s standard procedure, and I promise nothing’s going to happen to you. I really need you to come.”
He sent her a smile and shook his head. “Sorry Sloan, but I’d rather not. Don’t worry, I’m not going anywhere. If you need me, just come find me.”
Her shoulders sagged with disappointment. “Are you sure?” He nodded, and she let out a frustrated breath. “Fine. Just promise me you’ll be there when I’m done.”
He shrugged. “Where am I going to go? I need that passport, and I’ll come in if you really need me to.”
She nodded, but her brows drew together with uncertainty. She sent him one more pleading glance that did nothing to change his mind. Defeated, she sighed and started toward the building. Just before entering, she turned. Ramos gave her a nod, then pulled the bike away from the curb and headed toward the vendors.
That was close. He hated lying to her, but there was no way he was going inside that building. Who knew what they would do to him? It would be easy to put him in a holding cell and ask questions later, and he wasn’t about to risk his freedom for anything.
He followed the slow-moving traffic and kept watch for someplace to buy a phone. A few minutes later, he parked the bike on the street and hurried inside a store. He bought a pre-paid phone, along with some sunglasses, and stuck it in his pocket.
Then he finally gave into his growling stomach, unable to resist the delicious smells. Finding a street vendor in the Distrito Federal section of the city, he bought a couple of tacos sudados and delicious frutas en tacha.
After wolfing them down, he found a semi-private spot and put the call through to Manetto.
“Where the hell are you?” Manetto asked.
“Mexico City,” Ramos answered. “I ran into a few snags, and I’m afraid I didn’t get the money, but Carlos is dead, along with most of his men. Only problem was, I had to blow up all the weapons.”
“Hmm…I doubt that went over well with Sloan.”
“Exactly. That’s why I dropped her off at the embassy. She’s there now and claims she can get me a passport and a ride out of here. But I’m not so sure I want her help, especially with all the strings that come with it.”
“I’ll send my jet. Can you get to the airstrip we used before?”
Ramos let out a relieved breath. “Yes. I’ve got transportation, so that’s not a problem.”
“Good. I’ll call you at this number once the plane is in the air.”
Chapter 6
Ramos knew it would take him a couple of hours to get to the airstrip. Then he’d probably have to wait another two hours before the plane landed. That gave him some time before he had to leave the city. If he could talk to an old friend who lived here, there might be a chance he could find out who was responsible for the bounty on his head.
Since Manuel was most likely at his car dealership at this time of day, he headed to the lower city district to find him. Once he reached the car lot, he parked across the street to observe. Manuel came out to talk to some people, then went back inside, and Ramos made his move.
He rode the bike to the back of the lot and parked behind the building, then strode inside, going straight to Manuel’s office which overlooked the car lot. Manuel sat at his desk, writing on some paperwork, so Ramos paused inside the doorway and folded his arms.
Manuel glanced up, and then jerked with surprise. “Ramos. What the hell! You about gave me a heart attack.”
Ramos smiled, glad he’d had that effect. “I was in the neighborhood and thought I’d stop by. It’s been a while since I was here.”
“Sí, mi amigo. It has.” Manuel’s brows drew together, and he glanced out the window toward the lot. “But you should probably leave town. It’s not safe for you here.”
“I got that already.” Ramos nodded. “That’s why I’m here. You wouldn’t happen to know who put the bounty on my head, would you?”
Manuel shrugged. “It’s not exactly a secret, so I don’t suppose it will do me any harm to tell you. As long as you don’t pass it along that I did.”
Ramos spread his hands. “Manuel. We’re friends. You know that.”
“Sí, I am hoping so.”
“Both Manetto and I will owe you a favor, and you know we take care of our own.”
Manuel nodded, then stood and motioned for Ramos to come in and sit down, making sure the door was closed for privacy. “Very well,” he began. “You must know that the demise of Gonzales was a particular loss for the chief of police, who received many favors from the Gonzales Cartel. So, a few months ago, and with the promptings of a few highly placed officials, he spread the word of a bounty on your head.”
“What’s his name?”
“Inspector Salazar. He has been known to take bribes and share the spoils from the ransoms of hostages.”
“Do you have a phone number for him?”
“Of course. You can call the police station and ask for him.” Manuel shuffled through his desk to find a phone book. “It is here. I will write it down for you.”
“Thank you Manuel. You’ve been extremely helpful. I’ll make sure you’re compensated.”
Manuel handed the note with the number on it to Ramos and shrugged. “It is nothing, but of course I appreciate doing business with you. I hope you do not confront him alone. He has many friends.”
Ramos stuffed the paper into his pocket and stood. “Don’t worry. I hope you hear that the bounty no longer exists by this time tomorrow. If you don’t, please let me know.”
“I will let you know, either way.”
They said their goodbyes, and Ramos left Manuel’s office, heading out the back to his motorcycle. The police station wasn’t far, but he didn’t need to talk to Salazar face-to-face for what he had in mind.
He knew Salazar. In fact, he’d spoken with him the last time he’d be
en in Mexico. He also knew that Salazar was the same man who had tried to get Shelby to pay a ransom for Manetto. It would be nice to take him out but, for now, he hoped a threat would do.
He rode past the station, then turned down an alley on the other side of the street and parked. He climbed up the fire-escape on the side of the building and pulled himself to the roof. If he remembered correctly, Salazar’s office was on the third floor, with big windows overlooking the street.
From his perch, he had a good view of the office, but it was empty. He watched, waiting for his chance, and was rewarded a short time later when Salazar entered and sat at the desk.
Ramos pulled out his phone and called the station. Speaking in perfect Spanish, he asked for his good friend, Chief Inspector Salazar. He watched Salazar pick up the phone and heard him say his name.
“Salazar,” Ramos began. “I see you are wearing your red tie today. If you don’t want it to get ruined, I suggest you keep still.”
“Who is this?”
“Have you heard what happened to Carlos early this morning? He brought me here to collect on a bounty that you put out on me. Now, I’ve got you in my sights, and I’m ready to pull the trigger, but I might be persuaded to let you live…if you take the bounty off my head.”
Salazar inhaled sharply. “Ramos?” He pulled a drawer open.
“Keep your hands on your desk. Now. You know what? I’m running out of time. Maybe I’ll just take the shot and be done with…”
“No! I will rescind the bounty. You have my word.”
“Good,” Ramos said. “And believe me, if I hear it hasn’t been rescinded, or another bounty is ever taken out on me again, you will be the first to die.” He quickly disconnected and hurried off the roof. As he dropped to the ground, he noticed a policeman rushing out of the building and glancing up at the rooftop.
Not wasting time, Ramos hopped on the bike, started her up, and continued through the alley to the other side of the street. He heard yelling from somewhere behind him and only slowed a little to make the turn. Coming out on the street in a rush, he masterfully avoided hitting several cars.