They’d been throwing what supplies they had from the crappy apartment into Brett’s jeep when he heard them approaching.

Bryce and Karen had gone up for the last load of spare clothes and blankets a few minutes earlier. He kept loading the last of the water and food into the back of the jeep. Not much space, but then they didn’t really have much to load at four in the morning for a quick getaway.

“Tomás, ¿a dónde vas mi amigo? ¿Tan temprano en la mañana?”

He set the bag of tortillas down on the water, before turning slowly around to face Gustavo de Vargas, an enforcer for the Soldado’s Muertos,

As he turned, he saw Gustavo’s main henchmen, Torres and Perez, which likely meant that Guitierrez was coming up the alley from behind. As much as he’d prefer to have never known the SM’s, they ran most of the docks, including the bar where he worked “security” on the weekends.

“Sr. Vargas, mi hermano y yo íbamos a conducir al refugio de vida silvestre, y, bueno, tomamos unas vacaciones con algunas chicas dispuestas.”

“Tomás, Tomás, he said, shaking his head, ¿dónde está la niña?”

Ah, no sabía que ella era una de tus señor, ¿mi hermano no pagó lo suficiente por un par de días?

Shaking his head, the big man said, “No juegues al estúpido Tomás. Tu hermano noqueó a su manejador.”

“Mierda. Él nunca ha sido muy inteligente,” Brett replied, before springing into action. The knife appeared out of nowhere in his hand as he launched a swinging kick at the closest cartel member, Torres, the power of which shattered the jaw of the man. As Torres went down, Brett threw the knife, burying it in the eye of Perez.

That’s when he heard the shotgun blast from the apartment.

“Supongo que eso significa que Guitiérrez trató de rodearme, eh, Gustavo,” as he looked up at the head enforcer, ten feet away with the handgun pointed at him.
“Voy a disfrutar haciendo que me veas castrar a tu hermanito, Tomás,” Vargas said, before pulling the trigger, but Brett was already moving. The shot took him in the shoulder, as his move into the bigger man surprised him, who expected him to beg. The intense pain made him see red momentarily, and when the rage left him, the larger man’s skull was leaking all over the pavement, bits showered over Brett from his death.

He looked up when Bryce and Karen approached, Bryce holding the shotgun, Karen pale with an armful of clothes and blankets. Brett stood up, stripping off his t-shirt, before using it to wipe off the gore from his face, the bleeding in his shoulder already slowing.

“Bryce, you drive. We have to leave now.”