Andrew Peterson - Forced to Kill

“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.”

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 of 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.