Failed State (A James Winchester Thriller Book 1) (James Winchester Series) - James Samuel (top novels of all time .txt) 📗

James felt the heat on his face as bursts of gunfire went off below him. The fire had already consumed Juliana’s favourite armchair. James had to cover his face with his free hand as the temperature ramped up. He gave up and dragged Martina and the old woman down the last couple of steps. Juliana stumbled but Martina held her up.

Juliana screamed as Martina did her best to comfort her. But they kept moving as James tiptoed around the fire as it licked at the floorboards. The door Diego had disappeared down remained ajar. Another set of steps.

“Hurry up, down here,” said James.

James left them and ran to support Diego. The corridor wound around to the right before coming to a halt at another open door. He saw a gleaming white kitchen and dove into the battle.

Diego had the room covered, but he struggled to hold off the narcos coming from two corridors. James jumped in to cover his flank. The floor above their heads smoked as the whole house creaked.

“Hurry up,” said Diego. “This house is going to fall. Get out the window.”

“No, I can’t leave them. They’re coming.”

“Then you go and flank them. I’ll hold down everything here.”

James gulped. He didn’t trust Diego to go out of his way to save them. But as the doorframes splintered from the heat and the kitchen tiles shattered, James knew debating could get them all killed.

“Cover me,” said James.

Diego sprayed the remainder of his cartridge as James used the butt of the gun to smash one of the windows. He jumped to get through it even as the shards of glass dug deep into his fingers. The warm wash of blood seeped across his palm as he eased himself over and outside.

James blocked out the pain and made his way around the flank of the building, reloading another cartridge. He checked his corners and the bushes with every step. Still, the gunfire rattled through the house. Smoke poured from the upstairs windows as the flames rose and licked at the annex above.

He rushed around to the front of the house, where he came across Diego’s Land Rover, a couple of bullet holes in the bodywork. A contingent of narcos took the rear. James made a quick calculation in his head and fired. He had no trouble taking them down and completing the flanking manoeuvre.

Storming through the battered front door, he emerged into the hallway. Smoke poured down the stairs and the creaking grew ever louder. The thick crack of splintering wood told him time had almost run out.

Forgetting about the risks, he fired through the hallway as he looked to link up with Diego in the kitchen. Each life he took made him forget the pain in his hand. He only wanted to save the three humans trapped in the kitchen.

“Vargas!” James shouted through the house.

A narco appeared from the living room, only to receive a shot to the head.

The shouting died down. Most of Vargas’ men were dead. But where was Vargas himself?

The sounds of struggle emanated from the kitchen. James rushed in and found Diego and the brawny Vargas punching each other, their guns tossed aside. Diego had Vargas pressed against the wall.

He fired a shot into Vargas’ leg and Quezada’s lieutenant dropped screaming.

James motioned to Martina to take Juliana out of the house.

“You would let your own mother die.” James rushed up to Vargas and whipped him with the butt of his gun, knocking him out. “Diego, help me with Vargas before the house collapses. I need him alive.”

James heard only stunted breathing in response.

“Diego?”

He turned and found Diego lying on the floor, his shirt torn, his body armour riddled with bullets. Blood gushed from his wounds. James listened to the symphony of the death rattle. The final moments he’d heard from so many people during his career.

James cradled Diego’s head. “We need to get you to Dr. Silva.”

“No,” said Diego. “No. I’ve killed enough people to know when the end is here.”

“I’ve seen men take this many bullets and live.”

Diego smiled. Blood flowed from his mouth. He coughed to clear the blockage. In that moment, James knew Diego was done for.

“Go. Take Vargas. Let this house be my funeral pyre.”

Diego died before James could reply. James didn’t need a doctor to tell him he’d run out of options. With a trembling hand, he closed his eyes before lying him down on the kitchen floor.

James lingered for a moment as he looked upon his fallen comrade. Loyal to the end and never once had he betrayed the slightest hint of treachery. He grabbed Vargas by the arms and dragged him across the broken glass away from the burning house.

Juliana’s house burned uncontrollably. He could only watch as he dropped Vargas on the front lawn. The soft whimpering of the mother made James wipe a tear from his eye. Not for a beloved piece of real estate but for the man who had sacrificed himself so he could save two others. He didn’t want to imagine his body burning. What the fire was doing to the flesh and those handsome features.

James turned his attention back to Vargas, who had started to stir. A hatred erupted inside him and he kicked him in the testicles.

Vargas coughed and writhed on the ground, holding himself.

“You,” said James from between clenched teeth. “This is your doing.”

Vargas moaned as his leg bled and his testicles screamed in pain.

James gripped him in a headlock from behind and forced him to sit up. Vargas, the man-mountain of the Santa Maria de Guadalupe cartel, had no choice but to confront the consequences of his actions, perhaps for the first time in his life.

“You were