| |
Gray Thomas
Two hours outside of Tegucigalpa, Honduras
Gray watched Guy end his phone call in the rearview mirror. He flicked his eyes back to the road. The highway wasn’t crowded. Gray followed the posted speed limit signs even though he knew the limits weren’t actually enforced. Honduras didn’t have policemen who monitored the roads the way they did in the US. Here, random police barricades were used instead. It made the driving in Honduras a free-for-all for the drivers. Driving the unknown roads could be quite a harrowing experience with cars passing on curves, drivers texting, and even movies playing on small TVs.
“Your Regan seems to be quite resourceful,” Guy said as he pulled his phone down from his ear.
Gray met his eyes in the rearview mirror. “Excuse me?”
“Regan and some of her friends have just landed in Honduras. At the very same airport we used. Like I said, very resourceful.”
Gray bit into his bottom lip to hide his grin. Yes, she is, he thought.
“Friends?” Gray asked. He assumed the person on the other end of the phone confirmed their names. Gray’s guess would be the customs agent had called the minute they were out of sight. He would have access to their names and other personal information. It wouldn’t hurt for Gray to also know who he should be on the lookout for.
“Yes. Let me see if I can remember. A Jason Hayes.” Gray didn’t correct him. Jaxon was an unusual name for a woman or a man. “Liam something-or-other. Sounded Irish to me. And a Benjamin Jackson, is it?”
Gray jerked the wheel at Guy’s words, sending the car into the oncoming traffic lane. Luckily, there weren’t many cars on the road yet today, so he didn’t hit anyone. Liam and Jax, Gray had expected. Ben floored him. Rage rocked through his body. How was he with Regan? And why? Had Regan called him? Did she go running back to him the minute Gray was out of sight?
Gray’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white. He grit his teeth together and tried to calm his speeding heart. The surge of jealousy had taken him by surprise.
“I see this doesn’t please you. How interesting,” Guy said. He watched Gray’s reaction without showing any emotion. “I’m not pleased either. There was one more companion on the plane with them.”
Her high school boyfriend, too?
“Who?” Gray asked.
“My Gracie. It seems your Regan and my Gracie are together.”
Gracie? Interesting. What a ragtag group Regan had compiled. He expected Jax and Liam. Liam for his detective skills and Jax for moral support. Gray had assumed Uncle Bob would’ve been with her, too. Bob hadn’t been at the show so maybe he didn’t know what was going on.
But, Ben? Ben. He was the last person Gray had expected Regan to run to. The absolute last person. She claimed not to want him in her life.
And Gracie? Gray knew Gracie well. She probably forced herself on Regan and, out of guilt, Regan had folded.
Although Gracie’s presence could come to be a benefit. Guy might be less inclined toward violence knowing she was with the group. He might want to ensure her safety.
On the other hand, it could make him a loose cannon. Guy may be so distracted by emotion for his long-lost wife that he became unpredictable. Gray eyed Guy in the rearview mirror again. Guy was looking out the window, for once, his attention not on Gray. The gun sat in his lap, his hand loosely holding the weapon. His finger wasn’t even on the trigger.
Gray looked to the road ahead. They now traveled on N54, still heading toward Guy’s business. With Guy distracted, this was his opportunity to crash the car. Gray’s seatbelt was secure, and a driver’s-side airbag added extra protection. Guy had his seatbelt fastened but would not have the benefit of an airbag. On impact, the gun would fly out of his hand. Gray hoped, anyway.
The roadway was clear. Not another car in sight, but there were many houses. Gray didn’t want to hurt an innocent bystander. He scanned the sides of the highway. Trees dotted the scenery on both sides but were planted near the homes and businesses. Plus, the roadway was very curvy. He would need a straight stretch to gain any speed.
“Turn here.” Guy pointed to the sign ahead.
“I thought we were going to the hostel,” Gray said.
“You thought wrong. We have a stop to make.”
Gray slowed and eased the vehicle into the turn. Signs for Pulhapanzak Falls lined the side of the road. Gray and Regan had toured the waterfalls years ago. They were beautiful with natural caves behind them. Using a guide, they had made the treacherous trek behind the falls. It was like walking through a hurricane. In America, the hike would probably have been banned. Or highly controlled with harnesses, ropes, helmets and other safety gear. Here, the ‘safety line’ was holding onto the guide’s hand. Each person held hands “in case one of you gets swept away.” Those were the exact words of the guide. It had been terrifying and exhilarating all at once.
“Turn here.” Guy pointed to the right. Gray turned into the parking area for the waterfall observation deck. Gray parked the car and waited for further instruction. Guy remained silent.
After five long minutes of silence, another SUV pulled into the lot, kicking up dust. Guy motioned for Gray to hand Guy the keys and to get out after the car parked on their right. Gray walked around the car and opened the passenger side door.
Two men emerged from the car. Both were shorter than Gray by several inches and of a darker skin tone. Their bone structures gave away their differing ethnicities. Gray guessed one to be Colombian and the other Mexican, but he could be wrong. The men stared at Gray and Guy but didn’t speak. Gray kept the men in sight while his hands double-checked the closures on his bag. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck, keeping him on full-alert.
“What are you doing?” Guy asked Gray.
“Just wanted a drink of water.” Gray pretended to dig in his backpack for the bottle he kept there. He stayed standing in the open door of the car. He wanted access to his bag and a quick getaway if necessary. Something about the early-morning meeting just didn’t sit right with him. The sky was starting to lighten, but it was still quite dark, giving Gray the cover he would need if he acted quickly. Gray could just make out the shapes of the trees behind the vehicles since there wasn’t much ambient light. Not like in the States at all.
The smaller man pulled his coat aside, revealing a pistol in the waistband of his pants. A clear warning to both Gray and Guy. He was the first to break the silence.
“Do you have our money?” he asked. Gray labeled him ‘Number One’ since nobody was introduced.
“I do,” Guy continued the conversation in Spanish. Gray kept a blank look on his face while he sipped his water, even though he understood every word.
Guy motioned to the back of the vehicle. He pushed a button on the key fob and the tailgate slowly raised. Gray took two steps closer to see the exchange.
‘Number Two,’ the slightly taller Colombian man, unzipped the luggage. He opened the flap to reveal stacks of cash neatly bundled and placed in the bag. He checked the three other cases. All were full of money as far as Gray could see. Gray guessed at multiple millions in the bags.
“Did you have any troubles?” Number Two asked.
“None. Smooth as always,” Guy said.
“Then who is this man? You know el jefe wants you to work alone.” Number One pointed at Gray.
“It’s personal. I just didn’t have time to drop him off before our set meeting,” Guy said. “He’s a nobody.”
Gray knew the term ‘el jefe.’ Directly translated into English it meant ‘the boss.’ It was the underlying meaning that sent shivers up Gray’s spine. While mob bosses were called ‘dons’, drug lords were known as ‘el jefes.’ But there was one el jefe who was scarier and far more dangerous than the rest. He was referred to only by the nickname since no one knew who he actually was. El jefe was known by everyone in the US, mentioned daily on the news. His name was synonymous with drug busts, gang killings and raids. He was the most sought-out international criminal. Every alphabet agency was looking for him. Gray had led Regan into a far more dangerous situation than he had expected.
“You’re a drug smuggler?” Gray asked Guy in English, pointing to the cash.
“How else would I have access to a private plane?” Guy asked a question in response, shrugging his shoulders.
“Silencio! There can be no witnesses,” Number One said, his eyes flashed with anger.
Guy waved him off. “He doesn’t understand what he is seeing and he doesn’t speak Spanish. This is Central America. Who would he tell?”
“How about we kill him just to be sure?” Number One said. Gray tried, but failed, to keep his face from showing his surprise and fear. “He knows enough Spanish, it seems. Look at him.”
Gray inched back toward the open passenger door. He put his arms up in silent surrender.
“Kill him. It’ll save me the trouble,” Guy said. Spanish still being used when he addressed the others.
Gray tensed at Guy’s words but his gut told him that Guy was bluffing. He didn’t actually want Gray dead. At least, not yet, or what was the point of dragging him all this way? Guy still wanted or needed something from Gray.
Number One pulled his gun out and aimed. Once he started to move, Gray reacted. He grabbed his bag from the seat and ducked around the open car door. The shot echoed around him, but the door kept it from hitting him. Gray ran toward the trees, keeping as low as possible, his tall frame making it nearly impossible. Once he entered the tree line, he zigzagged between trees for cover.
Multiple shots rang out, Gray assumed all three men were now shooting. The drug runners clearly wanted him dead, and Guy would rather he died than escape. Gray ducked down behind a large tree and tried to plan an escape route.
Sweat beaded his forehead from the exertion and pain radiated in his side. Gray took large pants of air to catch his breath. The shooting stopped. The silence that followed was deafening. Gray guessed they were locking up the money before following him. Time to move. He pushed off the tree and plunged further into the woods. He took each step with caution, barely making a sound. Unlike his pursuers. The men entered the woods behind him, louder than an elephant stampede. Gray could hear every step they took. They weren’t trying to be quiet about giving chase. They slowed down as they neared his position, taking caution.
A mosquito bit Gray’s arm, but he refrained from swatting it. Any movement or sound could give away his position. The waterfalls roared to his left, but Gray couldn’t see the moving water through the trees.
The river was fast-moving, so Gray decided to head for it. Maybe he could jump in and swim to the next town? The fall alone might kill him since the river was a thirty-foot drop down the side of a cliff. Of course, a bullet definitely could kill me, he thought.
Gray tensed his muscles to spring up and run for the water. His wound sent a hot branding iron of pain into his side. He grunted from the small movement. A swim was out. Gray might not have the strength to keep his head above the water. What he really needed was a place to hide out and rest until the men left. The woods weren’t an option. They would eventually find him hiding behind a tree. And, with the pain intensifying, Gray wouldn’t have the strength to pull himself up into a tree and wait. Plus, it would be full light soon. He would be spotted eventually.
The caves were an option. But with Guy living here as a full-time resident, he would know about them. If Guy, or one of the others, found Gray in one of the caves, it would be like shooting fish in a barrel.
Gray thought Guy was only acting when he told the men to shoot him. Gray believed Guy still wanted him alive. Guy may lead the men away from the falls so he could come for Gray later. But was Gray willing to risk it? Was he willing to risk his life on a guess and a feeling?
A twig snapping had Gray turning his head toward the sound. They were closer than he expected. He’d hoped the men would’ve taken longer to lock up the money before chasing him. His mind wandering and trying to formulate a plan had distracted him from his surroundings.
Gray made a decision. He felt around on the ground until his hand closed over a good-sized rock. He threw it to his right. The rock hit a tree twenty-feet away falling into the underbrush below it. He hoped the distraction would give him enough time to gain some distance.
“Over there!”
All three men moved toward the sound. Gray stood up and ran toward the water. Throwing the rock had cost him, his side screamed in agony, but he kept going. The sound of the water grew louder as he neared the river. He cleared the line of trees and picked up his pace. He would be exposed until he could climb down the cliff.
Shots rang out as the men followed him. Dirt kicked up in front of him from a bullet hitting the ground. Gray kept going. He felt the butterfly bandages rip open and the wound start to bleed again. Gray pressed his hand to his side to staunch the bleeding.
Gray reached the side of the cliff. He ignored the stairs to his left that led down to an observation deck. He tucked his right leg under him and slid over the side. He reached out and grabbed onto a support post as he fell over the side of the cliff. His wound tore open even more from the jolt of catching his body weight. He swung under the deck and used it for cover. He couldn’t see anything under the boards. He used his sense of touch to feel for handholds and footholds in the cliffside. He prayed silently the whole time that he would choose wisely where to place his weight.
Footsteps echoed above him as the men stepped onto the platform. Gray held his breath. His muscles strained to hold himself still. Blood tickled as it ran down his stomach.
“Where did he go?” Guy asked. “I don’t see him.”
A gunshot rang out, making Gray’s ears ring. A bullet tore through the planking the men were standing on and hit the rockface next to Gray’s foot. Gray yelped, giving away his position.