Monk by Ivy Black

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Monk

“That’s the quick and dirty version of things, Sheriff Singer. And before you say a word, I want you to know that I did not bring this into her life. That was the doing of her husband,” I say.

Singer sits back in the chair, his face red, his eyes shimmering with tears. I’ve never seen an emotion other than anger from the man before, so it’s disconcerting to say the least. I clear my throat and take a long swallow of water.

“I knew she was keepin’ something from me, but I wanted to believe it was just this mess with her husband. None of this other stuff even occurred to me. I mean… a cartel? How in the hell did she get mixed up in this?” he says miserably.

Calling Singer in for a sit-down at the clubhouse was Prophet’s idea. I argued that we needed to get on the road, but he’d calmed me down and told me we needed to do this right. Which included filling Singer in on everything.

The guys we’re taking with us, twenty-five in all, are battle hardened. All of us have been in the service, and all of us have been in combat. We’re all soldiers and we’ve all been in the shit. If there was ever a group that I needed to pull my ass out of the fire, it would be these guys.

Singer looks at me and for once, I can’t read his expression. “I didn’t listen to her. Why didn’t I listen to her?” he says, his voice thick with emotion. “She tried to tell me he was a bad guy, and I didn’t fuckin’ listen.”

“The time for self-recrimination comes later. Right now, we need to go out there and put these fuckers down and bring her back to you. Prophet wanted to make sure you were in the loop because things out at the lodge are likely going to be noisy and you’re likely gonna get some calls. We thought if you knew in advance, you could run interference from your end.”

“I can’t let you guys take this one. I’ll call in all my deputies and we’ll go out there and handle this. I appreciate what you’re tryin’ to do, but this is police business, boys,” Singer says.

Prophet leans forward, his gaze intense. “Let me make this clear to you, Sheriff, if you and your deputies roll out there, every single one of you is going to die.”

“All due respect, Prophet, but I’ve got good men—”

“I’m not sayin’ you don’t. But your men ain’t ever been in a war. And when you’re goin’ up against cartel sicarios, that’s what it is. A war.”

“We can handle ourselves,” Singer says.

“I don’t mean to disparage you or your deputies, Sheriff,” I say. “But you and your boys have to obey all the laws. Cartel men have no respect for the law. You’d be walking into that fight with one hand tied behind your back. We can do what you can’t.”

“I appreciate that, but—”

“No, Sheriff,” I cut him off. “You and your deputies with all your laws and ethical behavior go rollin’ in there and you’re gonna get Kasey killed. There ain’t no two ways about it. Zavala will kill her and I’m not going to let that happen. If you want to see Kasey alive again, you and your boys need to sit this one out and let us handle it. We’re equipped for this fight. You’re not. End of story.”

Singer eyes me closely. “And what’s to stop me from lockin’ you all up right now?”

“Because you want to see Kasey back home alive every bit as much as I do, and you know we are her best shot. You know we’re her only shot,” I say.

Singer hesitates, looking like he’s going to argue further. But I see him contemplating my words. He nods, looking absolutely miserable but with a steely determination in his eyes. He looks as if he’s processing the information as he sees the men assembled and ready for war. I can see him taking heart as he sees me with the guys. I know it has to be galling him, if only a little, that it’s us saving his daughter and not him, but there’s not much that can be done about that. Not now.

“We’ll keep the casualties and damage to a minimum if we can, sir,” Prophet says. “But we’re walking into an unknown situation. We don’t know the enemy numbers or their disposition. We’re banking on them being inexperienced in a firefight. That should give us an edge and, hopefully, keep the number of dead and wounded down.”

“We’re telling you all of this because we can do things you can’t. Things you’re not trained for. And it’s better us getting fired on than you. These cartel pricks are ruthless, but fortunately, everybody you see behind me has been trained, and trained well, to handle ruthless,” I add.

Singer shakes his head. “I don’t know what to say, fellas. This is… overwhelming. To say the least.”

I nod. “Now that you’re in the loop, we need to get on. We can’t spare another minute.”

The big sheriff looks at the men once more, too overcome with emotion, and finally nods. The men start filing out, heading for their bikes, moving with a purpose and a deadly grace. They move like warriors. Singer catches my arm as I’m going and turns me to him. I look him in the eye, waiting impatiently, feeling every second tick by.

“I don’t like this one bit. You need to know that. I don’t feel right about lettin’ you guys go shootin’ everything up out there,” he says.

“I don’t like it either, Sheriff. If there were any other way, I’d jump on it. But I think you know, every bit as well as I do, this is the only way we’re getting Kasey home. We can go places and do things you and your men can’t. Like I said, we’re her only hope right now,” I tell him.

His expression is sour, and he couldn’t look any more disapproving of this if he tried. And there may come a time when he regrets making this decision. But right now, he’s making the best choice he possibly can. He’s making the choice a father, and not a cop, must make, and that’s what’s best for his daughter. And I know he can’t possibly feel any shittier about it. But at least he’s got his priorities right, as far as I’m concerned.

“I knew somethin’ was wrong when I got home and saw her bag of clothes dumped by the back of her car,” he says. “And I was so sure you had somethin’ to do with it.”

“Well, now you know I didn’t. And that we’re going to take down those who are responsible for hurting somebody we both love, Sheriff.”

He nods and looks me in the eye. “I don’t have the words. I ain’t never been very good at sayin’ what needs to be said. Ask Kasey.”

I nod back at him. “Well, you’re going to have plenty of time to find those words because we will bring her back to you.”

“Don’t make me regret this. Bring her home to me or I swear, there is gonna be hell to pay, Jake.”

It’s the first time I’ve heard him use my actual name before. The first time I’ve heard him refer to me as anything other than scum or dirtbag.

“Gotta go,” I say.

***

We’re crouched down on a small rise about a hundred yards from the lodge with the sun on our backs. If anybody was looking up at the rise—there’s no reason they’d even be expecting us—they’d be looking directly into the sun anyway. We’re all but invisible up here.

“Two black SUVs,” Max reports from his sniper’s nest. “I see eight men total out in front of the cabin. All carrying ARs.”

I look over at Prophet. “Would it be karma or just fucked-up luck if we get shot by the ARs we sold to the Warriors, who in turn sold them to the cartels?”

“Probably a little of both.”

“There’s no way Tarantula sold those ARs to the cartels,” Cosmo adds. “He hates those fuckers.”

“Hey look, we finally found some common ground,” I say.

I look over to the tree line where Max is positioned. He’s invisible to me amongst the foliage of the forest. I had no idea the kid was a sniper back in the Corps. And judging by the bits of his record he shared with me, he was a damn good one. It makes me feel a bit better knowing he’s got overwatch on us.

I key open the mic. “Any sign of her, Max? Do you have eyes on?”

“That’s a negative. Just the eight guards out front,” he replies.

“Son of a bitch. I know that guy,” Cosmo says as he hands me the glasses. “Black suit. Short hair. At the rear of the second SUV.”

I train the glasses on the man he’s describing. “What about him?”

“That’s Xavier Soledad. He used to be Tarantula’s VP. Bolted to become Miguel Zavala’s personal sicario. Tarantula’s had a price on his head ever since.”

I say smugly, “Think he’ll pay us if we bring him this dude’s head?”

“You can bank on it. He hates the dude that much.”

“So, what’s the plan here, guys?” I ask, feeling anxious.

“Storming the building’s out. That’s likely to get everybody killed,” Prophet says.

“We need to find out who’s inside,” I say, then have an idea. “Max, do you have a clear line of sight?”

“Affirmative,” his voice comes back through my earpiece.

“Do you have your parabolic mic?” I ask.

“Affirmative.”

“Give us a listen,” I tell him, then turn to Cosmo. “If we can’t see who’s in there, maybe we can hear them.”

Prophet and Cosmo both nod. “That’s a damn good idea,” Prophet says, sounding impressed.

“Desperation is the mother of invention,” I reply.

We wait for a few moments, each one tightening the knot in my stomach that much more. I watch as Xavier disappears into the cabin, wishing I could be in there with them just so I can figure out what in the hell is going on.

“Kasey escaped and Zavala is screaming at somebody for letting her get away. Spencer’s in the woods looking for her. Zavala’s telling his guy when Spencer catches her and brings her back, to kill them both. Or if Spencer comes back alone, to kill him, and then send men into the woods after her,” Max’s play-by-play comes through our earpieces.

“No friendlies in the lodge. I say we light the place up. Nobody’s going to cry about a dozen dead cartel assholes,” Cosmo says.

I turn to Prophet, and before I even open my mouth, he’s nodding. “Stick behind the ridge as cover. Do not get seen,” he says. “We’re going to light this place up and keep them busy. Get into the woods and get your girl.”

I give him a grim smile. “Thank you.”

He nods. “Go.”

Cosmo pats me on the back. “Good luck, kid.”

“You, too. Do not get yourself dead up here,” I say.

Crab-walking down the back side of the rise, I get to my feet when I hit the bottom and sprint off for the woods. I stop at the edge of the tree line to catch my breath when I hear the loud crack of a shot from a Barrett 25mm… a sniper rifle. So, Max got the first shot. Good for him.

There’s a long, pregnant pause as the report of the rifle echoes out across the land. It’s that moment right before a battle starts where both sides take a breath and tighten their balls. And then, all hell breaks loose. The chatter of automatic gunfire is loud and constant. It throws me right back to some of the firefights I was involved in back in Afghanistan.

Shaking off the old ghosts trying to pull me down, I plunge into the forest, moving as swiftly and silently as possible while keeping my eyes open. It doesn’t take me long to pick up a trail. Broken branches, scattered undergrowth, and fresh footprints in the damp soil. Tightening my grip on the AR in my hands, I set off, following the footprints and keeping my ears peeled.

As the sound of the firefight behind me fades to a distant roar and the quiet of the forest starts to take over, I hear Spencer shouting Kasey’s name. It pulls a sigh of relief out of me because it means he has not found her yet, and she’s still alive.

The idiot keeps screaming her name, his frustration obviously leading him to make a very bad decision. He had to have heard the firefight raging at the lodge and if he was smart, he’d have to assume that I’m coming for Kasey. Coming for him. And yet, he bellows her name again, his voice echoing through the trees.

The crack of a gunshot twists the knot in my stomach, and I press on, fearing for Kasey more and more with every step I take. Cresting a hill, I slip behind the trunk of a sequoia and peer around it. Downslope, near the edge of the river, I see Spencer. He’s got a 9mm in his hand and he’s turning his head to the left and to the right, obviously searching.

“Come out right now, Kasey. I promise I’m not mad. All will be forgiven, I swear,” he calls.

Moving slowly and sticking to the shadows as much as possible, I make my way down the slope, closing the gap between us. When I’m within thirty yards, I lean against the trunk of a tree and take aim. Movement in the bushes just across a narrow spot in the river draws my attention. Spencer seems to see it at the same time, and wheels around, bringing his sidearm up.

“No!” I scream as I break cover and head straight for him, hoping to draw his attention from Kasey.

Spencer spins, bringing his weapon to bear. I hear the sharp pop of the shot and feel something slam into my shoulder. Kasey screams as it drives me back a step and knocks me on my ass. It feels like a fire has erupted in my arm and I feel it going numb, though an excruciating pain spreads through my shoulder and upper chest.

With the warm, viscous feeling of blood pouring down my chest, I raise my weapon and squeeze off a shot. The ground near his feet seems to jump, spraying dirt and debris into the air. Spencer dances to his left, readjusting his aim, and I find myself staring straight down the dark barrel of his weapon. My gut tightens and my heart starts to pound like I’ve just run a marathon.

As he squeezes off a shot, I roll to my right. I hear the solid thump of his slug hitting the earth where I was laying a moment ago. I get to my feet as he squeezes off another shot, the slug slamming into the tree trunk beside me with a solid thud. I feel a white-hot pain slice across my cheek, my shoulder throbbing, agony radiating through my entire body.

Dropping on one knee, I ignore the pain and raise my weapon, bracing it on my leg as I squeeze off a burst. I see a red mist spray into the air and watch as Spencer’s leg crumples beneath him. His scream is long and tortured, the sound of a man in pain, and he clutches his thigh. As I move to the right, he raises his arm and squeezes off three more shots in rapid succession. All of them are wildly off the mark.

Coming around the trunk of a tree, I see Spencer trying to rise to his feet, and when he spots me, he raises his weapon once more. The sound of it dry firing is audible even from where I stand. Despite the feeling of liquid fire burning in my shoulder, I smile viciously at him.

“Looks like I win,” I say.

Holding my AR at the ready, I walk down the slope toward him. Still on his knees, he lets out a roar and hurls his empty weapon at me. Like his final three shots, it doesn’t even come close. As I move in on him, I see Kasey step out of the bushes on the other side of the river. She splashes through the water and runs straight at me, tears streaking her dirt-covered face.

I get to Spencer first and sneer down at him. “I should fucking kill you right now,” I say, my voice cold and emotionless.

“You don’t have the balls,” he says.

His eyes widen when I stick the barrel of my weapon against his forehead. He swallows hard, sweat pouring down his face, and he trembles wildly. Spencer holds his hands up.

“Please don’t,” he says with a whisper.

“You don’t need to kill him, Jacob. You won. You beat him.”

I give her a smile. “You beat him. You outsmarted him, Kasey.”

Spencer’s eyes narrow as recognition seems to set in. His mouth opens and closes a few times as he tries to force the words out.

“You’re Jacob?” he finally manages to croak. “Jacob Tulo… whatever? You’re that guy?”

“Yeah. That’s me. Tulowhatever.”

He smirks, and then winces as the pain from his leg wound ripples through him. Spencer’s eyes focus on the barrel of my weapon, which is still pressed flush to his forehead. I cut a glance at Kasey and her eyes are wide, scared. She reaches out and puts a hand on my arm, and though she says nothing, I can all but hear her begging me not to kill him.

“She’s told me about you. Never got over you, I guess,” he tells me.

“Guess not.”

“So, what now?” he asks.

“Give me a good reason I shouldn’t pull this trigger,” I glower at him.

“Because I never did anything to you?”

“For all of the pain and stress you’ve caused Kasey, I should put a thousand rounds into your fucking skull.”

She shakes her head. “He’s not worth it, Jacob. You should not have to carry the stain of killing this piece of shit on your soul.”

“Knowing he’s still alive in this world after what he did to you is going to be a stain on my soul.”

“He’s going to prison,” she says. “He’s going to prison for a very long time and you know things have a way of… working themselves out.”

I let out a long breath and stare down at the man on his knees. His eyes are red and shimmering with tears as he contemplates his own mortality. I want to kill him. I really want to kill him. But I also don’t want to be a monster. Not anymore. After everything I did in Afghanistan, my soul is stained enough and Kasey is right, he’s not worth it.

As if sensing that I’m not going to kill him, Spencer sits up a bit straighter. The fear drains from his eyes, and a wavering smile of relief touches his lips. I can’t let him think he’s won any sort of a victory here, so I quickly spin my weapon around and bring the butt of it down on his forehead. It lets out a loud crunch and Spencer crumples to the ground. Kasey looks at me with wide, scared eyes.

“He’s fine. He’s just going to take a nap for a while. Probably wake up with a bitch of a headache, too.”

Kasey physically relaxes as she lets out a long breath of relief. After slinging my weapon across my back, I turn to her. Taking her hands in mine, I look her up and down for the first time. She’s filthy, wet, and has blood smeared all over her face. Leaves, dirty, and twigs are stuck in her fiery red locks, which are sticking out in a million different directions in the most extreme case of bedhead I’ve ever seen, and her t-shirt is torn in half a dozen different places.

“Jesus, you look like shit. Couldn’t you have cleaned yourself up a little before I got here?” I tease.

“You’re such an asshole.”

Though tears continue to stream down her face, she laughs and buries her face in my chest. Raising my good arm, I pull her tightly to me and stroke her hair as she sobs. She finally steps back and looks up at me. I reach up and touch her swollen lip, brushing my knuckles gently across the scrapes on her face.

“You came for me,” she whispers.

“I always will.”

She squeezes my hands tightly. “I love you, Jacob Tulowhatever.”

I smile as I pick a twig out of her hair. “And I love you, you Northern California bushwoman.”

We laugh together for a moment, but the jostling of my body sends waves of pain rolling through me. I nearly double over with it and it takes me a moment to regain my breath.

“We need to get you to a doctor,” she says.

I nod. “Yeah, the thought crossed my mind.”

“What about him?”

“Plastic cuffs on my belt. Put a pair on his ankles, and another on his wrists. Cinch ’em down tight. We’ll tell the cops where they can come pick up the trash.”

I watch as she does what I’ve told her to do. She seems to take an evil delight in cinching his bonds exceptionally tight. Hopefully, he doesn’t lose circulation in his limbs before the cops find him. But if he does, oh well.

With Kasey’s hand in mine, we retrace our steps along the path and back toward the lodge. And as we get closer, I notice the absence of gunfire. The fight’s over, and judging by the fact that the Pharaohs are in possession of the lodge, some of them are taking selfies with what looks like a statue of a deer, though I can’t be sure, others appear to be taking selfies with dead sicarios, and laughter is echoing across the land, I will assume we carried the day.

As we emerge from the forest, both of us bloody and looking like hell, I see police cruisers and ambulances arriving on a scene that’s already buzzing with activity. As Cosmo rushes over to me, an EMT in tow, I see Sheriff Singer step out of the crowd. I watch as his eyes fall on Kasey, and then see him sprinting toward her. She gives me a smile.

“Go see your dad,” I tell her.

She meets him halfway and I watch as he sweeps her up in a tight embrace, lifting her from the ground, and spins her around. She’s laughing and telling him to put her down. He does, but he won’t relinquish his hold on her.

Amid the chaos that surrounds them, Kasey and her father share a genuine moment. One filled with tears, laughter, and heartfelt sentiment. I see it’s the sheriff who’s doing most of the talking, and then Kasey throws herself against him again, wrapping him in a tight embrace.

“I guess the old man found his words after all,” I mutter.

Cosmo gets to me, his eyes filled with worry as he takes in my shoulder. The EMT sits me down on a log and cuts away my shirt to get a better look at it. Even Cosmo winces, which is supposed scare me, but it doesn’t.

“Are you okay, kid?” he asks.

Looking around, I take in the scene all around me. I look at Kasey and her dad, then turn my eyes to all of the guys in their kuttes milling around, and I see Max, talking animatedly with Poe. He’s gesturing wildly, no doubt describing his role in the firefight. Finally, I look back up at Cosmo, my most trusted friend in all the world. I nod.

“Yeah,” I say. “Today is a good day.”