Free Marked in Mexico by Kim McMahill Page A

slipped back into the shadows and hunkered down. These men were dangerous. They were ruthless and nervous, so he’d have to be extra careful. Both Ashley and Gilbert were killed the callous, coward’s way ¾ Ashley brutalized and murdered by a group of much stronger individuals and Gilbert shot in the back after they’d probably promised him his freedom.
    Jack studied the men and the area closely, taking in every detail that had changed, trying to find the weak spots. He was certain the men on the porch were the same two men they had overtaken earlier in the evening and locked up, so he doubted they were in very good humor. He was a little surprised to see the man Jessica hit with the cast-iron pot up and walking. The image of her holding the pot over the unconscious man brought a brief small smile to his lips.
    The two men lit cigarettes and paced back and forth. They stopped and spoke to each other in Spanish, keeping their voices low. They glared at each other, took a few puffs and paced once again. The routine continued until a third man, who Jack had never seen before, came outside. The two men snuffed out their cigarettes, stiffened and followed the newcomer obediently back into the house. As soon as the door shut the level of noise once again grew to a near roar.
    For a moment, Jack was unable to move. What he had seen sucked the air from his lungs. The third man to come outside was dressed in a common law enforcement uniform, but the insignia patch on his shoulder read PJE, Policía Judicial del Estado . The PJE had been defunct for years and he knew the uniform was commonly used by Las Culebras to deceive law-abiding citizens.
    If he was correct, they were in even more trouble than he could have possibly imagined. He had to act quickly and get back to Megan and Jessica. He had told them to leave in sixty minutes if he hadn’t returned, but if they did, he was now confident the two women had little chance of survival with the PJE on their trail.
    There was no cover between Jack and the van, but he believed it best to return the pack to where he was sure the drugs would be found. He crouched low and dashed for the vehicle. He tried the driver’s side door and released a sigh of relief when he discovered it unlocked. He set the pack on the ground and eased the door open, quickly pressing his finger to the button in the doorframe to keep the interior lights from coming on. Without a sound, he retrieved the pack from the ground and laid it on the seat.
    As he began to shut the van’s old rusty door, it creaked. He froze ¾ one hand on the door handle and the other still holding the button in the doorframe. The voices in the house silenced. For a moment, it seemed as if his life was a movie and someone had just pushed the pause button. There was no movement and no sound, even the night insects halted their songs.
    Jack stood still, hoping the men would resume their argument when they heard no other sounds coming from outside. But the moment that had been briefly frozen in time, quickly vanished as the night erupted into chaos.
    Chairs skidded across the wooden floor and the shuffle of feet racing toward the door erased all hopes of a quiet getaway. Jack slammed the door and darted into the trees, running around the house. When he reached the opposite side, he made as much noise as he could, exaggerating with heavy footfalls and breaking branches with each stride.
    Gunfire from automatic rifles rained into the trees, sending debris showering down around him. Jack had no doubt the gunfire was from AK-47s, since that was the weapon of choice for Las Culebras . The bullets didn’t land anywhere near him since the men hadn’t pinned a visual on him and they were firing only in the direction of sounds. Jack encouraged them to expend a great deal of ammunition before he fell to the ground with a thud and silenced his movements. The shots ceased and shouting and running replaced the thunder.
    Jack scrambled to his feet. He