The Werewolf Whisperer (The Werewolf Whisperer Series Book 1) (3 page)

As
she turned from Memo, Xochi heard a menacing laugh and the distinctive clicking
sound of a gun being cocked.

"Not
bad for a little güera bitch. Daddy teach you that?"

Xochitl
grabbed for the door.

"Don't
you fucking move, puta."

Naked
fear blasted through Xochitl's body, leaving her feet bolted to the floor. She
had nowhere to go. If she moved, Memo would shoot her.

He's gonna shoot you anyway.

Taking
a chance, she slowly turned back to face Memo. He stood at close range, his gun
pointed at her chest.

Oh, God.

Xochi
raised her hands in the air.

"Please,
Memo," she tried to placate him. "I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

"¡Cállate!"
Memo growled, pacing back and forth in front of her like a wild beast about to
pounce on his prey.

An
odd bubble of calm enveloped Xochi, and — as if locked in stasis, she
stood immobile, waiting, contemplating her next move.

"You
think you can do this to me and not pay, bitch? I'm El Gallo!"

Xochitl
stole a glance at the bar.

Behind the counter. Papa's shotgun. If I'm
quick enough...

"I
run this—" Memo raged on only to suddenly cut himself off.

Xochitl
brought her attention back to El Gallo. He stared past her at the frosted glass
window. She slowly craned her neck to follow his line of sight. A shadow moved
swiftly by the front of the bar.

¡Híjole!
About damn time!

She
turned back to Memo. His eyes again fixed on her. Xochitl could see by the
amazed and —
hurt?
— look on his face that he'd puzzled out
she had betrayed him.

Why
Memo hadn't made a move on her yet she didn't understand. She wasn't about to
ask. Keeping him in her sights, she began inching her way to the bar.

Xochitl
had almost reached the end of the counter when Manny, a fourteen-year-old boy,
one of Memo's lookouts, sprinted into the cantina from the kitchen.

"¡Jefe!
¡La chota! ¡Afuera!"

Memo
regained his senses. "¿Dónde?"

"Everywhere.
I came from the dumpsters out back," the boy answered.

¡Carajo!
The cops didn't find the kitchen entrance!

The
side alley door was hidden by the dumpster enclosure. Xochitl's produce vendors
constantly complained about the difficult access.

If
I get out of this alive, I'm gonna move those pinche dumpsters.

"Did
anyone see you?" El Gallo asked the boy as he moved toward the kitchen and
peeked through the swinging door.

"No,
Jefe," the boy replied, pulling out a 9mm handgun stuffed in his pants
like a gangster out of a movie he'd probably watched a million times.

"The
cops will find the kitchen door soon." Memo stepped back into the bar.

Xochitl
eyed El Gallo, as he searched the room for another way out, revulsion churning
her guts.

How
did I ever get mixed up with this monster? What am I gonna do if he gets away?

Memo
glanced down the hall toward the restrooms. His mouth turned up into a sly
grin, and Xochi knew he had figured out his escape.

¡Hijo
de puta! Where's pinche Xena warrior cop?

Unsure,
Manny took a tentative step closer to El Gallo.

Memo
put up his hand, halting the boy. "Stay here, homes. Pinche cops can't
touch you." The gang leader beat his chest with his fist and shouted in
salute, "¡Órale! East Los!"

"East
Los!" The dutiful boy soldier mimicked.

Some
day this kid's gonna get himself killed by these pendejos. That will not be my
Miguel.

El
Gallo turned back to Xochitl, "I'll deal with you later." Then he ran
down the hall toward the women's restroom.

Xochi
stood next to the bar, staring after Memo. There was nothing she could do now
except hope the cops would nab him crawling out the bathroom window. She looked
over to Manny, who appeared lost now that his leader had ditched him.

Poor
kid. Doesn't even know Memo could give a shit what happens to him.

Shouting
and gunfire blasted from the back lot.

Officer
Lowell.

Xochi
darted behind the bar, grabbed the Smith & Wesson 12 gauge, checked it was
loaded and readied herself. Looking up, she watched Manny cock his gun.

"Wait,"
she hissed.

Manny
smiled at her and ran for the back exit.

"Shit!" Xochitl, shotgun in
hand, took off after the boy.

*

"LAPD!"
Gabe shouted as he and Lucy burst from the shadows.

Tuti, tilting a red
plastic gas can, hunched over the injured pit bull.

"Down on the
ground!" Gabe followed up. Tuti froze.

An incredulous roar
rose from the surprised Locos as Lucy rammed her full force into Tuti, taking
him down and knocking the gas can from his hands. She jumped to her feet and
buried her boot in Tuti's midsection. He gasped and curled in on himself.

The crowd of Locos
reacted with indecent speed, scrambling down the alley, climbing fences,
grabbing dogs and cash as they fled.

A few took in the
fact that all that was threatening them were two cops — alone, and one of
them was a woman. Like pack predators they closed in, toothy smiles flashing in
the glow of the streetlights.

The back door of
the bar flew open. A skinny teenage boy wildly waving a handgun ran toward Gabe
in a straight line.

"Manny! No!"
A screech Lucy barely recognized as belonging to Xochitl Magaña rang out from
inside the hallway.

Gabe clotheslined
Manny effortlessly and sent his gun flying through the air. Hitting the ground
it went off, prompting other frenzied Los Locos to fire blindly in return. The
sound of feet running from both sides of the alley, the whirring sound of
helicopter blades overhead, the sudden warning shouts of police and ACTF
overlapped with the howling and barking of dogs and hollers from Los Locos
escaping over the fence. Bodies in flight and pursuit, knocked over cages, men
crashing or being thrown into the chain-link — the chaos all around made
Lucy feel a weird calm.

She noticed Flaco
holding up his phone, filming the entire scene, turning his narco-pop to full
blast while tears flowed freely down his scrunched up face.

Freak.

Near her, Gabe
scooped up the injured pit bull and bolted towards the safety of the door
propped open by Xochitl
Magaña
.

"You idiots
weren't supposed to grab the dog!" Xochitl sounded furious.

Men came at him
from all sides, shouting and flailing. Gabe barreled through them as if they
were nothing.

Screeching, Flaco
raised his Browning to take aim at Gabe's back. Lucy clocked the boy in the
face with her Beretta. He went straight to the ground.

"You fucking
weasel!" she spat and bent down to scoop up his gun.

Someone grabbed her
from behind, but she twisted out of the way, losing her grip on Flaco's 9mm.
There was nowhere to go now but to follow Gabe and the pit bull through the
open back entrance to
Xochitl's Cantina
. Lucy sprinted ahead, tripped
over the stoop and gracelessly crashed onto the cantina floor, cutting her
hands and bruising her pride.

Crap!

A shot rang out,
and for a moment everything seemed to slow down. Lucy saw Gabe, who'd been in
front of her and was already in the room, go to his knees on the blue linoleum.
He bent forward unnaturally, releasing the pit bull who scrambled under a
wooden table.

Lucy lurched
forward on the floor to half push and half drag Gabe out of range of the shots
that were continuing through the backdoor. From behind the bar, Lucy heard Xochitl
scream, "Stop shooting, you assholes!"

The gunfire
stopped.

"Lucy."
The deep rumble of Gabe's voice took her complete focus. Something was very
wrong. Gabe's face had turned pasty white and glistened with sweat. Lucy locked
onto Gabe's eyes — normally deep chocolate brown, they now glowed a mesmerizing
amber.

Before she could
react, five Locos burst into the room, shouting and waving their guns. Gabe
sprang up, knocking Lucy on her back, and crashed into the Locos with
breathtaking force and speed.

Gabe's already
large frame now appeared monstrous, the muscles of his back and arms bulging
and pulsing, his bones lengthening and cracking. Clean-shaven a moment ago, his
face looked dirty with dark stubble. His hair, always cut high and tight
— a remnant of his time in the service, now brushed his shoulders and
rolled down his back like a messy lion's mane.

Gabe roared like an
animal in agony and ripped through one of the men's throats with the startling
long, curved claws of his bare hand.

He grabbed a
gangbanger with the other hand, dangling the man off the floor and shaking him
by the face like a rag doll.

Lucy started to
black out as what felt like a massive shockwave rocked through her body. She
fought to keep her eyes open. The small coherent part of her brain observed
that Gabe's Kevlar vest had a small rip in the back. Even if the vest had
stopped a bullet from going through, it couldn't have saved his ribs from being
broken. Yet Gabe moved unencumbered, with the power of ten men.

She fixated on the
shaggy black layer of fur that covered her partner's head and arms. Just then
he turned in profile; large pointed, fur-covered ears swiveled back like those
of an aggressive dog. Razor-sharp teeth flashed in a tapered lupine jaw, and he
bit down on the last gangbanger.

My partner's a
werewolf?

Lucy convulsed as
hysteria shot through her like an electric shock.

"SWAT! Drop
your weapons! Nobody move!" At that moment, the SWAT team burst through
the front door of the cantina.

Gabe spun on the armed
men, ready to attack.

"No, Gabe!
Stop!" Lucy screamed the command, instinct trumping fear. Gabe hesitated
and looked at her with curiosity.

Holy shit! He's
listening to me.

"SWAT! Get on
the floor!" an officer roared as the team closed in.

"LAPD. Don't
shoot," Lucy yelled out and lurched ahead to put her body between Gabe and
the SWAT officers. "Don't shoot. Don't shoot. Don't shoot." Lucy's
voice gave out. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to squeeze sound from
her throat, but her vocal chords wouldn't obey anymore and violent coughs shook
her.

She felt Gabe's hot
breath on her neck and turned to face him, slowly and deliberately.

"Down, Gabe."
She pointed to the floor. "Down."

For a split second,
everyone in the room stood still and watched Gabe. The massive man swayed
briefly and then dropped to the floor like a puppet that had had its strings
cut.

"Officer down.
Code 33. Echo Park. North Alvarado and Clinton. Officer down. Start me
additional units and medical. Code 3. Officer shot. Approach from
northwest."

"On their way."

Lucy heard the
shouting but didn't comprehend the words. She crouched down beside her partner,
holding him tight as convulsions wracked his body. She saw blood drip to the
floor. Gabe had been hit despite the Kevlar.

"Don't die.
Don't die. You can't die." Lucy's words ran together in an incessant
chant. She was lost in his pain, unable to focus, oblivious to the pandemonium
all around her.

*

Xochitl barely registered the sting of
the zip ties digging into her wrists as she lifted her head from the floor to
stare at Officer Lowell's partner. Lowell was cradling him in her arms, rocking
him back and forth like a child.

¡Madre
de Dios!

Xochi would have crossed herself if she
could have.

She pried her gaze from Lowell and Torres
and surveyed the room. With the exception of the officer who had radioed in assistance,
SWAT circled Lowell and
Torres. Some of the officers still had their
guns drawn, others had them hanging at their sides, but all stood with their
mouths gaping open in stunned silence.

What the hell just happened? And how did
Lowell stop it...him?

Xochitl brought her attention back to
Lowell. She looked exposed, tears running down her face as she whispered to her
partner. This Lucy Lowell was not the same reserved, focused, unrelenting
pain-in-the-ass Officer Lowell who had walked into Xochi's bar several months
ago, pressing her for information on Los Locos. No, this woman was something
different. She was nurturing, vulnerable — unprotected.

And yet, she still managed to control the
situation. That takes cajones.

Xochitl had a new respect for the woman.