A/N: As always, thank you to my reviewers: Super Gran, canadice, SpnSwtHrt, and WishfulThinker66! Since we don't get an episode this week, I thought I would post a new chapter. For those of you who celebrate it, I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving.
Enjoy! :)
Carlito walked toward the exit and said in passing to the man by the door, "Marcus, keep watch outside until it's done and help him get rid of the body. Then take the other car and meet us at the airfield."
"You got it," Marcus said, stepping out after him and leaving Tommy alone with Reagan.
Tommy approached Reagan and unsheathed the knife on his belt. She saw his feet and glanced up, her vision growing black at the edges.
"Please…Tommy…don't do this…"
He didn't answer and walked around to stand behind her.
She waited for it to come—the stab in the back. In her mind, it was the ultimate betrayal. If he was going to kill her, she wanted him to look her in the face when he did it.
But it didn't happen.
Reagan felt tension in the zip-tie, tugging, and then her arms were free. The tingling ache was incredible, but nothing compared to the throbbing gash in her middle. She immediately pressed her hands to her stomach. Looking down, she saw something sticking out of the ragged wound. Knowing that it was probably a part of her that was supposed to be on the inside, she gritted her teeth and pushed it back in. She cried out anyway and her head felt light.
"Tommy…" she whimpered, taking shallow breaths.
"Come on, sis. Let's get you out of here."
He scooped his hands underneath her elbows. When she tried to stand, her knee slipped in the puddle of blood beneath her and she put out a hand to stop herself from falling. He grabbed her more tightly this time and hauled her upright. She grunted in pain, but stayed with him as he opened the door to the outside.
Marcus turned around at the sound of the squeaking door. Seeing that Reagan was still alive, he said, "What the hell, man?"
Tommy walked past him, supporting most of Reagan's weight as she teetered on the edge of unconsciousness. "I want to do it at the dump site—less mess to clean up."
Marcus followed, arguing in Spanish with every breath. Without warning, Tommy pulled out the piece tucked into his waistband. He fired a single shot into Marcus's forehead.
Reagan barely flinched. She was so used to hearing gunfire, and so out of her head right now, that it almost didn't register. And then she fell, landing sideways onto something soft. The action jarred her wound and she let out a weak shout.
"Lo siento, sis," Tommy said. "I'm sorry."
He pushed on her feet and she realized he was trying to close a car door. She pulled up her knees, assuming the fetal position while still trying to stop the bleeding, which didn't seem to be working. Her eyesight wavered as her breathing slowed.
The car started and began to move at a fast pace. She could just barely hear Tommy cursing, then, "I'm sorry, Reagan. I'm gonna make this right. I gotta leave, though. It's not safe for me. They're gonna kill me…"
She wanted to tell him not to worry, that she'd help him, but everything went black.
At the center of the private airfield, Deacon waited outside the open passenger door of Black Betty. He looked across at Street on the opposite side and he knew Hondo had assumed position in the roof hatch. He glanced at the service buildings that flanked the airstrip, knowing their snipers were getting set up.
"Sierra one, status report," he said.
"Sierra one is in position and ready," Tan replied through the earpiece, having taken his spot on the left building's roof.
"Sierra two?" Deacon asked.
"Roger that. Sierra two is ready," Chris said from her perch on the right.
Deacon glanced at his watch, which he wore military-style on the inside of his wrist. It was go time.
"Heads up, everyone. Lopez should be here any minute now," he announced.
A small plane rolled out of the hanger just beyond Chris's location. It turned and came to a stop in the middle of the airstrip. Luca got out, leaving their prison inmate in the back. A moment later, a black Monte Carlo came into view and parked by the plane.
"He's here," Deacon said. "Wait for visual confirmation. When you see Cassie's out of harm's way, take them out."
He held his breath as both of the car doors opened.
This has to work…
He thought his eyes deceived him when two white men got out of the car, but they were quickly followed by two Hispanics from the backseat. He recognized the one on the left as Carlito Lopez.
"What is this?" Deacon hollered.
Lopez glanced over, keeping one of the men close to his front like a shield. "My insurance policy! These pilots will be taking us where we want to go."
"We already had two waiting for you!" Deacon answered, not exactly lying. He had two pilots on standby, but they were undercover cops and buddies of his.
"Thanks, but I'd rather choose my own!" Lopez and his partner, along with their human shields, started to shift toward the plane. He pointed his handgun at Luca, who stood nearby. "Where's my lieutenant?"
Keeping his empty hands in plain view, as not to escalate the situation, Luca answered, "He's in the plane."
Lopez nodded. "Si, bueno."
"Where's my officer?" Deacon yelled back, his blood pressure spiking. He looked at the Monte Carlo, but there didn't appear to be anyone else inside. Maybe she was in the trunk? He had a bad feeling. Something wasn't right…
Lopez smiled and said something to Luca. The other man stared back, his face turning pale in the spotlight from Black Betty.
Deacon's gut clenched.
"What's going on, boss?" Chris asked.
"I don't know, but if they get any closer to that plane take the shot."
"Where's Cassie?" Street asked Deacon from across the open cab, his voice urgent.
Before he could answer, Lopez and the other suspect made their move, keeping the pilots right in front so that they could climb into the plane without risk.
Deacon could feel the entire plan unraveling. "Chris, Tan, take them out!"
But the shots didn't come.
"He's blocked! I can't get a clean shot without hitting the hostage!" Chris replied.
"Same here. He's got that pilot on him like a second skin," Tan added.
Deacon's fear rose up like a sickness from the bottom of his stomach. Acid burned the back of his throat as he grasped for a way to control the situation, but it was slipping out of his hands.
And just like that, the doors of the plane closed and the engine started.
Hondo said from his position, "What do you want us to do here, boss?"
"Do you want us to shoot at the plane?" Street asked.
"That thing is topped off, Deke," Luca said. "If we fire at it, it'll blow."
"We can't add collateral damage to this!" Deacon replied, then sighed. "So hold your fire."
Reluctantly, they all watched the plane taxi and take off, leaving them in shocked silence.
"We are so fucked," Street muttered, and slammed the door that had been providing him cover. "We should've rushed 'em!"
"They would've shot the hostages," Hondo said, coming down from his spot inside Black Betty. He exited next to Deacon and they exchanged a worried glance.
Up ahead, Luca sat on the tarmac, head in his hands.
Street jogged over to the Monte Carlo as Deacon and Hondo approached their man on the ground. Carefully, Street popped the trunk. Deacon watched, hoping, until Street shut it and shook his head.
"It's empty."
Deacon tucked his chin to his chest and willed himself to keep it together. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then looked at Luca's hunched form.
"What'd Lopez say to you? Did he tell you where Cassie is?"
Luca raised his head. Tears glistened in his blue eyes and the sight knocked away Deacon's last shred of hope. He couldn't breathe as he waited for Luca's response.
"He said…" The words ground out, like every one of them pained Luca. "Envié ese cerdo a la matanza."
"What does that mean?" Deacon asked, suffocating with panic.
Luca gestured with one of his hands, the movement weak. "It means… 'I sent that pig to slaughter.'"
Deacon sat in the front of Black Betty as Luca drove them all back to HQ. He forced himself to breathe in deeply, counting until it was time to exhale. Anxiety over the entire miserable situation made his heart race in his chest. He'd lost the suspects and the inmate they'd broken out of jail, which meant he was probably going to lose his job—all of them could lose their jobs. But worst of all, he'd lost Reagan. According to Lopez, she was on her way to die, if not already dead.
He'd failed.
He'd failed his team, his city, his reputation, and he'd failed Reagan.
He couldn't feel any lower than he did at that moment.
When they got back to HQ, Hondo didn't waste any time jumping onto their high-tech computer station.
"Okay, we need to get a visual on where they took her. Did anyone see cameras on the outside of the warehouse?"
Everybody said some variation of no.
"What about traffic cams in that area? Maybe we could pick up the Monte Carlo and find out where they went," Chris suggested.
"But weren't there at least three guys?" Street asked. "Only two took off in the plane. I mean, we did find that dead guy in the alleyway…"
"So you think someone took her in a different car?"
"It's possible," said Street. "But how would we know what to look for?"
Deacon zoned out, agreeing with Street's assessment. How could they find a mystery car in an area with ten million people? It was truly a needle in a haystack. He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his small cross pendant, holding it between his thumb and forefinger.
Lord, please help us find her. If she's still alive, give her the strength to carry on. Don't let her be afraid... And if she's gone, help us bring her home. He paused. Please, I need a sign. Something…
Long after 'Amen,' Deacon stood quiet as his team continued to search. It felt like his heart was stuck in his throat. No matter how hard he tried to clear away the lump, it stayed lodged in place.
Suddenly, his cell phone vibrated. Looking at the screen, he saw that it was a local number, but not saved as a contact.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Sergeant David Kay?" a woman asked.
"Yes, speaking."
"This is Officer Jackie Morse. We had a Jane Doe down here at Beverly Hospital. Her fingerprints came back as Officer Reagan Cassidy. She has no next of kin, but you're listed as her supervisor."
"Wait…" He stopped to catch his breath. "She's…she's dead?"
"No! Oh, my god, no! I'm sorry. I probably made it sound that way."
Deacon finally exhaled, the sound strangled with relief.
"No, she's alive—in rough shape—but alive."
"What happened?"
"Someone left her outside the emergency entrance and took off. She was unconscious when the nurses found her. She didn't have any identification, so we had to run her prints."
"You said she was injured?"
"Yeah—a nasty stab wound in her abdomen. She's in surgery now, but I thought you should know what was going on."
"Yes, thank you! Thank you so much. We'll be right there."
He hung up and looked at his team, who had been blatantly eavesdropping.
"She's alive?" Street asked.
Deacon smiled, the action almost foreign at this point. "Yeah, someone left her at Beverly Hospital. She's in surgery, but alive."
Everyone expressed their excitement, hugging and taking a moment to savor the relief.
Deacon touched his necklace once more, sending a thank you skyward.
"Let's go!" Chris said, and headed for the exit.
But Commander Hicks was there, blocking the way.
They all stopped in place, their smiles gone in an instant.
"I overheard the good news." Even as Hicks said it, he didn't look very happy. "You can go and check on your teammate—except, Deacon. I need you to come with me."