Chapter Three
Shootout at the "Hacienda"
Like El Mariachi, the attackers considered Lorenzo's "hacienda" easy pickings. Unfortunately for them, on this day Lorenzo had more competent help than usual.
The first shots were silenced, but the open architecture and marble construction of Lorenzo's halls carried the "poofing" sound as Lorenzo's guards died. El saw Lorenzo's expression of dismay as he realized his peace was ending. It had happened often enough to El that he actually had time for a pang of sympathy for his friend.
"Guns?" he asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Under the furniture," Lorenzo said as he scrambled beneath his own chair and came up with a semi-automatic.
El's own guns were a familiar weight inside his suit, but it always paid to know where a cache could be found for when you ran out of ammo.
Gun ready, Lorenzo headed for a corridor that El guessed led eventually to the side of the building where El had first entered the estate.
El, his own guns in his hands, moved back to the pool area. Staying just within the doorway, he called, "Señoritas! Get out of here, now!"
The girls looked in his direction with various expressions of amusement or bemusement.
El looked beyond them to the walls, searching for places he might have chosen to enter, when he was infiltrating the place. Lorenzo's guns boomed in the distance, just as El spotted the conspicuous movement of the foliage. He fired, a man cried out, and the women began screaming.
Taking better cover behind the ledge below a cut-out arch beside the door, he picked off everyone he could mark in the shrubbery beyond the pool. At first a hail of bullets pockmarked the front of his ledge, but the storm abated as more of his foes fell. Once he was certain they were dead and not simply reloading, he looked for a better vantage. Altitude.
Lorenzo's estate was three stories high in some places, and had many balconies, both inside and out. The high parts of the building were farthest from the outside walls, so El thought it unlikely that anyone had entered from above.
Gunshots continued to sound from the side of the house where Lorenzo had gone, so El decided the other side could use some cleaning up. The inside stairwells were not a good idea - El was leery of long narrow places with no cover - so, appropriating three more weapons from beneath the banquet table and chairs, he looked for a way to scale the walls inside the vaulted interior.
Aided by a hanging tapestry, his grappling hook, and brittle mortar in the walls, he climbed to the nearest balcony. Before he was over the rail, he heard booted feet running into the dining area, coming from the side of the house he'd intended to cover. With one hand, he laid down a field of automatic fire, killing three men, and wounding a fourth. He tossed aside the empty weapon, and vaulted over the railing, followed by shots from the fourth man. He ran along the balcony, then slid silently back on the railing to where he had been. Sure enough, the other man came into view, thinking he had fled. El dropped him with a single shot.
He'd cleared the back, Lorenzo was at the one side, and those four men had come from the other side. The front of the house was too visible to the rest of the city; El doubted anyone was coming from there. He decided to see if Lorenzo needed help.
Locating a connection to the outside balconies, he inched into range of the side of the house. He saw three bodies, one of which was the guard he hand clubbed not a few hours earlier. Poor bastard. He ran toward the back, hugging the wall. At the corner he was frustrated to find that his view down on the pool and courtyard area was obstructed from that corner by low trees and a canopy that shaded Lorenzo's outdoor beer tap. He lay flat on his belly and slid forward, watching below. The sound of an exchange of single shots made him smile. The action was in the back again.
He reached a point just before the concrete of the pool, and now he could see Lorenzo, crouched where El had been before, just inside a doorway, but also with shooting access through an arch.
"Romero! I have the girl!" called one of the attackers. El couldn't see him, because of the canopy.
El peered at Lorenzo, and saw his friend's face go white. What girl? There were dozens of girls; they had all scattered. Half of them were probably on the streets by now, raising the alarm. It would be interesting to see if any police responded.
To El's consternation, Lorenzo threw his guns out into the courtyard. "What do you want?" he asked.
Mierde! If Lorenzo wanted to throw his life away for one of his bunnies, he was a bigger fool than El had thought. The girls' lives were all at risk the first day they had agreed to join Lorenzo's coterie in return for whatever Lorenzo gave them. Lorenzo was responsible for the danger to all of them, in El's opinion. But for any one more than the others?
The coast should be fairly clear of other gunmen. The attackers had not sent in enough men to take on the two mariachis. The sensible thing to do was to leave now, and El intended to do it, with or without Lorenzo. He moved back along the balcony. As his field of view cleared the canopy, El saw the man with the girl and he froze.
This girl was no bunny. Too short, too flat-chested, and certainly too plain, El knew her. Maria, Lorenzo's sister. His blood ran cold. Of course Lorenzo would use his new wealth to help support his family. Those of his family who would accept his help.
"Come out with your hands up!" the man ordered, his gun pressed to Maria's temple.
"Order your men to stop."
What men? The few sleepy guards would never wake, now. But this guy couldn't be sure there were no other men. Good. He didn't know El was there. He probably thought El was a small army of security.
Lorenzo moved out into the daylight, his hands held high. "Stop! Don't shoot!" he yelled.
Damn. El couldn't shoot the man from where he was - not, and be sure Maria would live. He could still get away - this was Lorenzo's problem, he told himself.
Apparently himself wasn't listening. He didn't move.
A second man, rumpled and panting, limped into view, his semi-automatic trained on Lorenzo.
"Mariachi!" called the first man. "Come out! Hands up, or your friend dies!"
He should have listened to himself.
A/N: So, I gave Lorenzo a last name. That didn't seem out of bounds, somehow. ☺