Bold Tricks (The Artists Trilogy 3)

Javier’s grip tightened on the gun. “This isn’t a matter of getting along, angel.” He licked his lips and nodded at Camden. “Tell me, Camden, how did you manage to escape from your ex-wife and the mighty Vincent Madano?”

Camden frowned at him, his jaw tensing. “How do you know about that?”

Javier grinned. “I read it in the newspaper like everyone else.”

“Bullshit.”

“I have to say, I’m impressed,” Javier went on. “Vincent Madano is not a man you can just mess up and walk away.”

“How well do you really know them?” I asked Javier, remembering that Camden had said something about it all being a set up, that Sophia and her brothers, and possibly Javier were all in on it. The exchange, the kidnapping – it was all for show. All to get me away from Camden and maybe to put Camden in danger.

It must have been driving Javier crazy to have Camden here with us. Camden could not be caught that easily.

“I know them well enough,” Javier said. He loosed his grip on the gun, shook the rain off of it and put it back in his waistband. I exhaled in relief. “But I suppose that’s neither here nor there at this point.”

I was sure that Camden wouldn’t let it go that easily. Just how deeply was Javier tied to his ex-wife and her brothers and why? But Camden only gave Javier a final glare before turning his attention back to the darkened farmland we had stopped beside.

“Let’s just get Gus back,” he said and pressed his lips together as if to prevent himself from saying something else.

Javier watched him for a few moments before putting the Jeep back into drive and returning us to the highway.

We sat in unbearable silence as we made our way into Veracruz, yet it was safer than saying anything. I felt like we were a word away from incinerating each other. Camden only spoke up to give directions to where he had ditched Jose.

Unfortunately it was a bit too close to Travis’s compound for comfort. We pulled down a quiet residential street only a few blocks away, the leafy trees blowing wildly in the wind, the rain having thankfully dropped off. The sound of helicopters buzzed in the distance.

Javier eyed the sky and I asked, “Are those his or news choppers?”

He nodded subtly. “They’re his. The news wouldn’t dare cover this.”

“Turn right down here,” Camden told him and we came down another street, this one more narrow, with the trees blocking out the streetlights that were few and far between. This was still a well-to-do area, though the houses were smaller and spaced further apart, all behind tall gates and walls. I did note that it was a dead-end road, which meant there was only one way out if something were to happen to us. We couldn’t be too careful, not with the choppers circling in the distance, their spotlights occasionally lighting up the sky.

“There she is,” Camden said, pointing to the end of the street where jungle seemed to have taken over and there were no streetlights. I could barely make out the shape of the car in the darkness.

“She?” Javier asked, eyebrow cocked. “Its name is Jose.”

Camden shrugged. “Guess she’s a cross-dresser.”

Javier sighed, shaking his head in disgust, and pulled the Jeep up to it. “Let’s make this fast.”

We hopped out and it was only now that we were closer that I saw what Camden meant by “battered.”

“Holy shit, Camden!” I cried out at the sight of the poor vehicle.

“What the hell did you do to my car?” Javier yelled, his hands thrown up in the air.

The GTO had the paint scraped off all along one side, the windows on the driver’s side were all shot out, the driver’s side mirror was missing, the front was totally crunched up with only the right headlight intact.

“Your car?” I asked Javier once I managed to look away from poor Jose. “What happened to the past being the past?”

“Now’s not the time to argue semantics,” Camden interrupted us. “She’s broken but she’s a survivor.” He fished the keys out of his suit jacket and tossed them at me. “Just like you.”

I caught them and he held my eyes for a moment before walking past me back to the Jeep.

Javier scoffed, though I didn’t know if it was for the state of the car or Camden’s comment, and made his way to the trunk. He bumped it with his fist. “Come on, let’s get her open.”

I was about to hurry over to him when Camden suddenly said, “Fuck.”

I spun around and looked at him. He was frozen in the act of taking off his jacket, his good arm free, his head cocked upward, eyes searching the sky. The sound of the choppers had gotten louder and over the tips of the waving trees I could see the spotlight in the sky, the blades whirring.

“Yeah, no kidding fuck,” I said. I turned to Javier and quickly ran over to him, trying to get my keys into the trunk of the car. I kept fumbling, missing the lock just as the wind blew my hair back and we were lit up by the spotlight, the helicopter coming closer. We were in their sights, no doubt about that. We had been spotted.

“Hurry up!” Javier yelled at me before ripping the keys out of my hands.

Camden hit the side of the Jeep with his fist. “There’s no time!” he yelled. “We have to go!”

“No!” I yelled back as Javier got the trunk open. “Not without my stuff!”

Suddenly the ground in front Camden started exploding with bullets as a steady stream of them came off the approaching chopper. We all cried out, dirt flying everywhere.

Javier quickly slammed the trunk shut. “Then we’re taking Jose. Get the fuck in!”

He went for the driver’s seat as Camden came running over, taking my hand and pulling me to the passenger side. He shoved me into the backseat, telling me to lie down, and barely got in the car himself before Javier was gunning the engine and driving the car backward. I could feel the wheels spinning for grip beneath my head and tried to sit up just as the sound of more bullets filled the air. I was tossed back down as Javier put the pedal to the floor and turned the wheel, the sheer power of the rear wheels grinding until we did a 180 until we were facing the right way. The chopper was now directly above us and I could feel the wind its blades created flowing through the smashed windows, the spotlight blinding me.

“Hang on,” Javier said, “this is going to get ugly before it gets better.”

He pressed down on the gas again and the car roared loudly before it lurched forward and we were all pinned back to our seats from the force. This is exactly why I loved this car. I just hoped he was stronger than he looked at the moment.

We raced down the street, the chopper in hot pursuit, the whir of blades and bullets gaining on us. I leaned forward between the seats, reaching for the glove compartment, waving my hand at it when I couldn’t reach. “My gun, give me my gun!”

Camden gave me an odd look but opened the compartment and handed me the gun that was thankfully still in there. It wasn’t my colt .45—that was in the trunk still—but it would do.

“What are you doing?” Camden yelled as I quickly checked the clip and slammed it back in.

“She’s being a good girl,” Javier said, just as the trunk was bombarded with bullets, sounding like metal fireworks being set off. “Fuck!” he yelled and swerved, trying to lose them, as I attempted to lean out of his window. I wedged myself up against the back of his seat and faced behind us. The wind whipped my hair around, the spotlight blinding me, but I managed to keep the gun aimed upward at the helicopter. I had no idea if this would work like it did in the movies but I figured it was better than just sitting in the backseat and doing nothing.

Only problem was, Javier kept swerving and throwing me off balance and the chopper kept moving out of my sights. You’d think that would mean that their bullets weren’t any closer to hitting us but that wasn’t quite the case. One hit the trunk again, a dangerously close call, just as Javier brought the car spinning around the corner and on to another road.

“Where do I shoot?” I screamed above the noise. “The fuel tank?”

“Shoot the fucking person who’s shooting at us!”

“Right,” I muttered. All I could see against the light was the outline of the chopper, not anyone inside. Still, there was a faint red glow whenever the gun went off so I just aimed there, firing off a few rounds and hoping they went somewhere.

Suddenly the windshield in the back of the car was hit and I screamed as it exploded into a million shards of glass. Obviously I hadn’t hit the gunman yet.

“Keep shooting!” Javier yelled as he brought the car around onto another street. We were leaving the hidden, residential hills of the wealthy and into the more open and busier suburbs of Veracruz. It was well lit and now there was traffic we had to contend with.

The chopper ducked down lower and sped up as we slowed to navigate around the cars on the road. The sound of horns, irate yells from drivers, and screeching tires filled the air. I took aim once more and fired again and again, hoping it would hit at least the windshield. But the helicopter came closer, the wind from the rotors shaking my arm like jelly, its landing skids almost coming down on top of us until Javier swerved the car to the left and the chopper had to rise quickly to get above a tall semi-truck in its path. I took the time to grab my arm with my other hand, trying to steady myself, to ignore the cramp in my lower back, the pressure of the door frame against my shoulder.

Come on, Ellie, I told myself as the helicopter came back again, much faster now and much lower, as if it didn’t give a fuck anymore.

“Drive faster!” I yelled but wasn’t sure Javier could hear me over the noise. I took in a deep breath, trying to see past the hair flying in front of my face and started firing.

I fired and fired but it just came closer and closer.

And then there was a dull click.

There were no more bullets left in my gun.

And my other clip was in the glove compartment.

We were fucking screwed.

CHAPTER TWO

“Shit, shit, shit!” I yelled at the gun, trying to figure out if I had enough time to duck back into the car to get the extra round. The helicopter was close enough now that I could see the guy with the semi-automatic leaning out of the door, one of his feet on the landing skids, the gun aimed directly at me.

A shot rang out through the air, blasting my ears.

The man with the gun wavered from his position, the gun slipping out of his hands first before he fell over and smashed onto the street below him, the cars behind us trying to drive around his body on the pavement.

What the hell?

I turned my head and looked over the hood of Jose. Camden was leaning out of his window, a gun in his hand, aimed at the chopper.

“Nice shot!” I yelled at him, feeling a surge of giddiness and adrenaline run through me. I think I was grinning.

He gave me a look that was as blasé as it could be when he was hanging outside of a speeding muscle car having just shot a man in a helicopter. Then with stark determination he aimed again and shattered the chopper’s window. Within seconds the helicopter started to tilt off to the side before going into a tailspin and crashing onto the shoulder of the road.