“W-who are you?”
“You don’t recognize my voice? Then take a look.” He moved his face into the orange light slicing into the gap between the kiosks.
“You!”
“Yes, me.”
The expression on Montez’s face told all. Nathan had thought he’d take pleasure in the man’s shocked recognition. Instead, he felt sick to his stomach. Conflicting emotions assaulted him, unbidden.
Loathing of the vicious thing inside him.
Fear of being two people locked in the same body.
Shame at the knowledge.
But, worst of all, hatred. Acidic and crippling. He owned a hatred so strong, it had permanently etched itself onto his soul. And all because of this sadistic shithead. The temptation to unleash the other and grant it vengeance was strong.
“But- but you’re-”
“Dead?” He yanked Montez close and squinted. “Do I look dead?”
“But they found your body at the camp.”
He slapped Montez’s face. “Do I feel dead?” He drew his Predator knife and brought it up to eye level. “Shall we get started?”
“Wait!”
“For what?”
“My men are holding a man and his daughters. An important man. I’ve given them orders to kill all of them, and I’m the only one who can call it off.”
He moved the knife to the side of Montez’s face and pressed the tip into his cheek. A bead of blood formed.
“Please, stop. I’ll call it off.”
“Where’s your cell phone?”
“Pants.”
Feeling revulsion, he reached into Montez’s pocket.
“Listen up, Monty. Cooperate and you’ll earn a few brownie points. And trust me, you’re going to need them. Tell your men you killed me, but you were shot in the process. Order them to return to the marina immediately without killing anyone. Tell them to sit tight until they hear from you again, no matter how long it takes. You got that?”
Montez nodded.
How much time did he have? The sirens he’d heard earlier had gone silent. Were the police already here, entering Belmont Park right now?
“Put it on speaker and make the call. Do you normally speak Spanish?”
“No.”
“If you’re lying-”
“I’m not. I make my men practice English as much as possible.” Montez had grown calmer. Perhaps blood loss was taking a toll.
“Make the call.”
Montez complied, and Nathan listened to the brief conversation for anything sounding like code. As far as he could tell, Montez did exactly as told. Nathan took the phone back.
“You don’t have to torture me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”
“Of that I have no doubt.”
“Hurting me won’t solve anything.”
“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.”
Chapter 45
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.