Against the Rules (25 page)

“Did you get it? Is it dead?” Do-Rag asked once he saw four-six-two put the tools on the table beside the door.

“No, it’s bypassed, not dead. It should read a closed circuit to anyone monitoring the system.”

“What does that mean? Are we going to take a stick of dynamite up the ass when we open it or not?”

Teague chuckled. “Probably not.”

“Probably not? What the fuck does that mean? Probably not…”

“It means I’m damn good at what I do. Nothing these goons can come up with is going to give me any trouble. Now, you ready to get the fuck outta here?”

“I’d always heard you knew your shit, but then you let a bunch of strung out druggies kick your ass, so don’t get all high and mighty.”

Teague was pretty good at reading people and Do-Rag wasn’t as flustered as he was projecting. He was using the banter to stay focused and Teague respected him all the more for it.

“Fuck you. You saw who ended up on the short end of that,” he reminded him pointedly.

“We ain’t outta here yet, hotshot.” Do-Rag ripped the jacket and hat off the unconscious goon and handed them to Teague. “Put these on and walk hunched over. If they’re looking at you from the distance of the roof, you might get away with it. As soon as we are out the door, turn a sharp left so it looks like we’re patrolling.”

Teague had been listening carefully as he had rewired the alarm system. The walls were paper thin and you could hear the teams talking to each other. They were either very sloppy or they assumed that the real danger was elsewhere.

Do-Rag was glancing out of the corner of the window trying to get a position on the shooter atop the building across from them, while Teague was stationed at the door. Just as they were about to exit, the goon started to moan. Teague watched as Do-Rag holstered his pistol, lifted the dazed man’s head up slightly and proceeded to cold-cock him. “Damn that felt good. He’s been asking for that since I first got here.”

Slowly, silently, Teague opened the door. He sent up a short prayer of thanks that a patrol wasn’t sitting on the step, and that the alarm didn’t blare, or any number of things that could have gone wrong didn’t.

He and Do-Rag took up a standard patrol pattern, Teague staying toward the inside to obscure the sight of him as much as possible. Once they reached the corner of the building, they paused, glancing around for possible patrols and snipers.

Do-Rag lit a cigarette and leaned against the building, seemingly taking a break. Teague pulled the cap farther over his face and crouched down a couple of feet away. Do-Rag spoke at length about a local stripper that was apparently all the rage with the guys. Both men kept the conversation going as they carefully scanned the area.

The moment the sniper across from them shifted his attention, they were on the move. Their pace steady, but slow, they neared the motor pool. Do-Rag entered first, Teague staying in the shadows, his knife tucked against his wrist.

“Hey, Bob, how’s it going?” Do-Rag shouted at an old man near the back of the building.

“My name ain’t Bob, college boy. Why the fuck you always call me that?”

“I don’t know, Bob, maybe cuz that’s what your coveralls say and you know I ain’t no college boy.” Do-Rag sauntered up to him like they were old buddies, while Teague hung back. Lowering his voice to a mere whisper, he told the old man, “I need the keys to the Hummer.”

Teague noticed ‘Bob’ take a quick glance his way, then look Do-Rag in the eye. “They’ll kill me.”

“Come with us.”

Sadly, the old man shook his head. “I got more convictions than a stray has ticks. I ain’t no smart-ass college boy with a pedigree. No one’s gonna hire me. Take the helicopter. Kliner is a rabid dog that needs killin’.”

Teague liked the old man with his cocky, toothless grin. He was glad when Do-Rag knocked him out with a surprisingly quick jab then caught him before he hit the ground. ‘Bob’ never saw it coming.

“Get him in the Hummer,” Do-Rag ordered as he went into the office for the keys.

Teague was leaning on the driver’s door when Do-Rag returned. “Where’s the helicopter pad he was talking about?”

“Next building over, but it’s no good, man. By the time the thing fired up they’d be all over us.”

“If we don’t disable it, they’ll be all over our ass before we even hit the highway. Stay outta sight. Be ready to roll in ten.”

“There are guards all around that thing. You’re walking into a hornet’s nest.”

“I’m open to other options. You got any?” he asked, with a distinct taunt to his voice.

Do-Rag paused for a moment then shook his head. “Good luck, man. Just so ya know, I’m not storming the pad if they nail your ass.”

Teague nodded and took off around the back of the building. As he neared the pad, he noticed several men, looking bored, stationed near the door. Ironically, Teague knew that would end soon enough.

Going through the building wasn’t a possibility. After circling around the back, he spotted an access ladder attached to the cement blocks. Using a running leap, he cleared the ten feet or so of bare wall to grasp the lowest rung. Though the muscles along his shoulders and arms protested mightily, he climbed his way up a few rungs until his feet could help bear his weight. If he was spotted, he’d be a sitting duck. As fast as he dared, he made his way up to the rooftop.

On either side of the copter, two more guards sat cradling fully automatic weapons. Shit, he knew things had been going too smoothly. He couldn’t possibly take out one guard without the other noticing.

Teague grabbed a handful of pebbles off the rooftop and pitched a couple near the ladder on the other side of the building. It was almost laughable. The goons were so busy chatting it up that they didn’t notice. So much for needing stealth. Changing tactics, he chose a larger pebble, tossed it a few times in the air to get a feel for its heft, then nailed the guard closest to him right behind the ear.

Immediately, the guard bolted to his feet, his weapon skittering across the concrete. “Son of a bitch! I have had it with your shit!”

To Teague’s satisfaction, he went around the nose of the bird and began pummeling the other guard.

Barely suppressing an urge to laugh, he crawled along the rooftop to shoulder the discarded weapon. Inch by inch, he neared the cockpit. With any luck the two guards would knock each other out, but, not willing to trust Channy’s life on
his
luck, he kept a wary eye on them. Once inside the cockpit, it didn’t take long to add a little surprise for the unfortunate souls who would soon be coming after him.

He knew his luck wouldn’t hold out. Before he could scurry out of the bird, the fight ended. One guard was dazed and slipping in and out of consciousness. The other was looking his way as if not trusting his vision.

“If you’re done playing touchy feely with each other could you give me a hand?” Teague shouted, like he owned the place.

“What are you doing? You’re not allowed up here.”

“I’m fixing the damn bird. Quit fucking around and give me that socket,” Teague warned, pointing farther into the copter.

The guard, obviously confused, leaned in to open the door. Teague used both feet to kick the door back into his face. Allowing his momentum to carry him through the opening, he landed on the stunned guard. A quick knife across the carotid ended any argument. He planted the blade into the palm of the unconscious guard hoping that it would fool the goons. If anyone looked too closely at the helicopter, they would discover the explosives and ruin their getaway.

Teague gripped the railings of the ladder and slid to the last rung. Turning slightly, he jumped to the ground, landing as quietly as possible. Ever vigilant, Teague entered the motor pool through a different entrance. He approached the Hummer from a low vantage point, avoiding being seen from the mirrors. Crawling beneath the chassis, he assured himself that there were no surprises awaiting them. In one smooth motion, he swung off the floor, sighting down the barrel directly at Do-Rag.

“Dude, you’re late.”

“So, sue me.” Teague scanned the interior of the Hummer, still untrusting of his new-found partner in crime. It was just a bit too convenient that he would show up when Teague needed him most and his incessant questions about Channy had just plain pissed him off. Other than ‘Bob’ unconscious in the back seat, though, everything looked in order.

With the Hummer already idling, Teague slid into the passenger seat. Before the door was closed, Do-Rag slipped the vehicle into gear. Out of nowhere, two armed to the teeth goons stepped in front of the Hummer with the barrels of their weapons aimed in the faces of Do-Rag and Teague.

Chapter Fifteen

Chantel had lost track of time. Thankfully, her body had grown numb. She was pretty sure she had drifted off to sleep several times. For how long she had no idea. Occasionally, she would hear the whirling of the web camera changing position. Each time, her heart pounded in terror. She knew now what Teague had been trying to tell her. There were much worse things than death, or even physical torture.

Her heart openly wept for Teague and her father. Both men would blame themselves. Just as she blamed herself for Teague being captured and dragged away at gunpoint. He had trusted her with his life and she had failed him miserably.

It wasn’t in her to give up. She was determined to make it out alive. Still, realistically, she knew that the odds were against her. She was a teacher with only a Saturday self-defense class under her belt. Not to mention that the drugs still swirled around her system, making her reactions slow and clumsy. Utter exhaustion had left her raw. Every noise, real or imagined, sent adrenaline through her already stressed-out system.

Ed, on the other hand, always kept himself in the best of shape. He worked out daily, was special forces trained—even with his advancing age he was a strong and deadly opponent.

What hope did she really have?

Before she could slip deeper into despair, the clanging of metal and scraping of wood alerted her that she was about to step a little farther into the rabbit’s hole.

“Good morning, Chantel. How are you this morning?”

Her throat, as dry as the desert floor, closed completely as he neared the cage. He sounded so casual and normal, like he had for years. When she didn’t answer immediately, his eyes pinned her with a glacial stare.

“Fine, thank you,” she managed to get out, fearing to say anything else and set him off.

“Good. I’m glad to hear it. I brought you some breakfast. I thought you might be hungry.”

The pounding of her heart sent the circulation rushing through muscles that had long ago knotted into tight, painful cramps. How could he sound so normal? So much like the man she had always thought of as an eccentric uncle.

After pulling the key from his pocket, he unlocked the cage. He reached inside and clicked the release on the pulley. Her body immediately collapsed. Her leg muscles were fatigued beyond the ability to hold her weight. He didn’t seem to notice, as he left her in a kneeling position to pull a chair up to the opening of the cage.

“You’ll of course have to wait like the bitch in heat that you are, while I finish mine.” His calm, soothing voice had been replaced by the edgier tone she was now familiar with.

The smell of hash browns, eggs and bacon was nauseating on her queasy, empty stomach.

“The monkeys are beside themselves with anticipation. They can’t wait to get a look at my latest masterpiece,” he told her between slurping bites of food. “Your father especially. He can’t sleep at night he’s so anxious.” His eyes roamed her body, sending her stomach into a rolling, heaving mass. “They will just have to wait a while. It shouldn’t be long now before you’re cleansed in blood. Then our fun can begin in earnest.”

He moved his chair back. With a bruising grip he pulled her from the cage and forced her to kneel on the concrete floor. “Now stay there like a good little bitch, while I ready your breakfast.”

She watched as he added his scraps to a dog bowl and placed it in front of her. “Give me your hands,” he ordered, expecting her to be able to use muscles long ago seized. She tried, but they refused to work. She cringed, knowing that retribution was coming. Instead, he unclipped the chain holding the manacles together. “Now eat it like the dog you are.”

A million responses flew through her brain. Eventually self-preservation won out. When he dragged her face down to the bowl she refused to fight him. He had too many weapons in his arsenal and all she had was patience. If she could lull him into a false sense of security, eventually he would make a mistake. While she endured yet another humiliation, she kept her mind on Teague. If she could get out of this mess, maybe she could still save him.

* * * *

Teague wished that he was behind the wheel. It killed him a little to not be in control. Placing his faith in someone else was foreign to him.

Do-Rag tossed Teague a grin just before gunning the motor. Goons one and two dove out of the way. Goon one got lucky, goon two—not so much. The push bar caught him at the hip, sending his body under the bumper, in the direct path of the wheels. Upon impact, the goon’s itchy finger squeezed the trigger. Bullets ricocheted off the compound, shattering windows and activating the failsafe on the security system. Each broken window ignited a small explosion. The rocking of those blasts destroyed other windows causing a chain reaction. They couldn’t have asked for a better diversion.

“College Boy,” a woozy, pissed off voice came from the back seat. “If I survive this, I’m gonna cap your ass.”

“Bob, here I am saving your sorry hide and you’re giving me crap. What kind of thanks is that?”

“The kind that’s gonna hurt for a long time.”

Goon one cut loose with his auto, pinging the shit out of the Hummer. Lying on the ground diminished his aim, but at such close range it was impossible to miss. Snipers added their firepower to the mix. The side glass spidered. Small impact marks peppered the windshield. Apparently, Mr. G. had paid for armor plating because so far the metal was holding.