How do you survive being shot and left for dead in the Chihuahuan Desert? By being found by a beautiful wildlife photographer willing to risk her life to save yours.
A bitter ex-cop fights for his life after he runs to the sound of gunfire on the Ri...
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The vertical lift hangar door exploded. Metal shards sprayed through the hanger.
Hank froze, stunned. Bobby flipped over the heavy desk for a shield, shoving his father down with him behind it. Mendocino hit the floor.
Boom! A grenade rolled into the hangar, exploding near the office door, shrapnel ripping through the wall. Choking smoke filled the room.
Bap-Bap-Bap-Bap! back and forth, up and down. Mendocino crawfished behind the desk as a second round of rifle fire unleashed.
Hank dialed 911.
Hunkered low, Bobby reached into the cabinet behind them, handing the AR-15 to Mendocino, holding onto the AK-47.
"We can't get a decent shot in here," Mendocino whispered. "Hold onto what we've got. Maybe he'll think we're unarmed and come in. One of us can take him if he does." He peered at Hank and Bobby—the big men huddled side by side behind the desk. Still, he saw no fright in their eyes.
A sudden movement. Out-of-place. Frazier. Somehow, he'd snatched Hank's Glock, maybe when Bobby flipped the desk. He was on his side behind Hank, aiming the nine-millimeter at Hank's head.
Bap! Bap! Mendocino fired two rounds from the automatic rifle, striking Frazier in the top of his forehead. In the sudden silence, Mendocino heard the air go out of him.
The hangar was eerily quiet. An ominous sign. With the wall in tatters and the office door open, Sartain could lob a grenade into the office easily. Mendocino said, "I'm going to draw his attention. When I make a break, you two get out of here and go for help."
Bobby snapped. "Damn, man! How many times have I got to tell you? I'm not going anywhere."
For a long moment, their gazes locked. Hard.
Mendocino cupped a hand around his mouth, yelling over his shoulder. "Sartain! You've killed the Watsons! They're both dead! Frazier's dead! It's Mendocino Jones! The man in the cave! And I'm going to kill you!"
Sartain let out a wicked, wolf-like howl, unleashing another volley of automatic rifle fire into the office. The angle of fire? He was behind that metal work desk on the far side of the hangar.
The three men squatted, shoulder to shoulder behind the heavy desk as Sartain continued firing. With nothing much left of the office wall, bullets were penetrating the thick oak desk. Mendocino leaned his back against it, both Watsons facing the hangar.
"When he reloads, I'm going," Mendocino said. "If he doesn't take the bait, or if he kills me—when he heads this way, both of you unload everything you've got on him. Even if he thinks you're dead, he'll come in here to shoot you again, just to make sure. You can take him if he does."
"I'll do it," Bobby said.
"Bullshit, Bobby. Where are you going?" Mendocino was tired of arguing with them. "All I'm trying to do is give y'all a chance to get us some help. We've got one clip each. He's already been through three or four."
