The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

automatic gunfire. Rounds obliterated the window's jagged remains and smashed into the desk. Several peppered the wall behind it, destroying a brass clock on a shelf, and punching holes through expensive artwork.

Dak slid to the corner of the desk and raised his weapon. He put the red dot on the target and squeezed the trigger three times.

The gunman's body shook as he absorbed two of the rounds before falling to his knees, then out of sight.

More shouting ensued from all around Luis and Dak's position. Then new voices came through the radios.

Luis' face turned crestfallen as Dak looked to him with questions in his eyes. He already knew the answer. He'd heard the same orders.

The men in the SUVs were turning back to help squelch the sudden attack on Mendoza's compound.

"It's Marco," Luis said. "He's bringing back the assault team."

Fifteen

Uruapan

Dak and Luis managed to survive the initial onslaught from Mendoza's men. They had surrounded the room and fired copious amounts of bullets into the study. The front of the oak desk looked like it had been through a tornado, with holes and jagged pieces of wood splintering off from its façade.

The desk held, though, leaving Dak and Luis unscathed.

They knew that wouldn't last.

The two former Delta Force operators knew that when the reinforcements arrived, they would be overrun, and that was minutes away.

"You think this Marco character is willing to throw everything at us?" Dak asked as he sat on the floor with his back against the right-hand filing drawers.

"Definitely," Luis answered. "Marco is savage. I'm pretty sure he's never liked me, either. I think he wants to take over the cartel."

Dak lowered his AR-15 and grabbed one of the pistols from his hip. He leaned around the corner and fired another three shots through a window at a silhouette beyond.

The target jerked and then withdrew, taking a round to the shoulder. Dak immediately retreated to the safety of the desk's cover as another volley followed the outburst.

Within seconds, the shooting ceased again.

The men firing at them would run out of rounds at some point, or at least Dak hoped that was the case. He figured that was the reason for their conservative approach thus far as they waited for reinforcements to arrive.

"Is there another way out of here?" Dak asked.

"Out of the study?" Luis met his gaze. "No."

Dak swore to himself.

"But there is a secret passage leading out of the compound. It's in the basement, attached to Mendoza's war room."

An eyebrow arched over Dak's right eye. "War room? He has a war room?"

Luis shrugged. "The guy was a planner. I'm not sure if you noticed, but these cartels are engaged in a war."

"You don't say."

Another smatter of gunfire roared from outside the building. The ravaged drywall behind the desk puffed clouds of white dust, the tattered remains of the surface ripped with each bullet.

When the cacophony died down again, Dak exhaled. "So, secret passage, huh?"

"Yeah. But the door will be covered on the other side by Mendoza's men. We'll be easy targets for the guys outside. We won't even get close."

Dak looked down at the two grenades and the flash-bang attached to his vest. He could take the chance and throw one through a window, but he could miss and the thing might take a bad bounce. They'd be safe behind the desk and there was an outside chance the shrapnel would take out some of the men close to the windows, but that was doubtful.

Then Dak remembered seeing a fireplace in a sitting area near the bookshelves on the other side of the room.

"That fireplace is gas, yeah?" he asked, a flicker of hope rising in his chest.

"Yeah," Luis said. "Why?"

Dak glanced over at his friend and handed him the pistol. "Cover me," he said.

"What?" Confusion filled Luis' eyes.

"On three, we open fire. Aim for the two farthest windows. I'll take the two closest."

"Why do I have to take the farther targets?"

Dak sighed. "Because I'm on this side. It doesn't matter if you hit them. We just have to get Mendoza's men to back off for a second."

"What are you going to do?" Luis searched his old friend for answers.

Dak met his eyes. "Something crazy."

Luis snickered the way only a man with nothing left to lose could.

"Does this mean I'm forgiven?"

"No," Dak said. "You still have a beating coming."

"That's fair," Luis nodded.

"You ready?"

"Yeah."

Dak readied the AR-15 again, gripping it firmly in his hands. "One. Two." He stole one last glance at Luis. "Three."

The two popped up from behind their cover and opened fire. Luis stood with both pistols extended, reminiscent of outlaws from the Old West, guns firing, ready to go out in a blaze of glory.

Dak fired two strategic shots through the first window, then two more through the next before he bent down, using the table as a brace for the shot that mattered. He looked through the scope with Luis hovering over him, still unloading his magazines. Dak lined up the red dot on the pilot flame inside the fireplace, then lowered it by a couple of inches until he found the metal hose where it connected to the valve.

He heard one of the magazines eject from the pistol in Luis' right hand, and it clattered on the desk to Dak's left. Dak didn't budge, didn't flinch. His breath came slow, deliberate, as he tensed his trigger finger and squeezed.

The silenced weapon let out a muted pop. The bullet zipped through the air and clipped the valve. The pilot went out instantly, its supply of fuel cut off. The damaged valve housing, however, spilled natural gas out into the room.

"Get down," Dak ordered as his friend fired the last round of his magazine.

Another reply came from the gunmen outside. As Luis ducked back down, a bullet caught him in the chest. Another caught him in the gut. A third struck his right arm.

He fell to the floor with his back to the desk drawers. His chest rose and fell rapidly, desperate to fill his lungs with air. The heavy