BULLETPROOF HEART

BLOOD LEASH

BULLETPROOF HEART - CHAPTER 11: BLOOD LEASH

"Hello, Marcus. Told you blood is always the leash."

Price hadn't changed. Same shaved head. Same scar over his left eye from the Bayelsa job. Same calm voice that made new recruits trust him.

Caleb's eyes were wide. "Marcus? Marcus don't— he said you'd give him the drive!"

Marcus kept his hands up. "Let him go, Price. You have me. You don't need him."

"I need the drive," Price said. "Dele paid me to get it back. You know how this works. Business."

"You work for Dele now? You said you never worked for Nigerians."

"I work for money. Dele pays better than oil chiefs who pretend to be dead."

Marcus took a step forward. Price lifted his pistol and pointed it at Caleb's head.

"Ah ah. Stay there. Where is it?"

"I don't have it. Interpol has it. It's already decrypting."

Price's jaw tightened. "Then you are useless to me. But your brother is still useful as a lesson."

That was the moment Marcus moved.

He didn't run at Price. He dove for the gun he'd dropped earlier — a feint. Price swung to track him, and Caleb, who had been taught by Marcus since he was 12, slammed his head back into Price's nose.

Price shouted, stumbled. His shot went wide into the flare stack, sparking.

Marcus was on him. Two punches, hard, to the ribs. Price dropped Caleb and swung back. They went down into the mud, rolling.

Caleb ripped the zip ties on a rusted pipe, freeing himself. "Marcus!"

"Get to the Hilux! Go!"

"No!"

From the dark edge of the field, headlights. Not one. Three. Fast.

Amara.

She didn't wait for the trucks to stop. She jumped out of the moving Hilux in the oversized vest and slippers, holding Chief's old shotgun that was bigger than she was.

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"

Price, bloodied, looked up and laughed. "The princess? You brought the princess to a gunfight?"

Chief Opobo stepped out behind her with two Air Force officers, rifles up. "And her father. You should have stayed dead, Price."

Price scrambled up, grabbing Caleb as a shield, gun to his neck.

"One more step and I paint this field!"

Marcus froze, hands up again, chest heaving. "Price, don't. Please."

Amara, shaking but furious, raised the shotgun.

"Rule 1," she whispered to herself. "No questions."

Then she broke it.

"What's your brother's name?" she shouted at Marcus.

Marcus blinked, confused. "What?"

"What's his name?!"

"Caleb!"

She looked at Caleb, looked at Price, and shouted: "Caleb, duck!"

Caleb ducked.

Amara pulled the trigger.

The shotgun roared — she flew back two feet into her father's arms from the recoil, but the blast hit the old oil drum next to Price, not Price himself. It exploded in a shower of rust and old oil, blinding him.

Marcus tackled Price. The gun went flying.

It was over in ten seconds. Air Force zip-tied Price.

Caleb collapsed into Marcus's arms. Brothers, both crying, muddy.

Amara ran over, shotgun dropped, and threw her arms around both of them.

"Stupid," she sobbed at Marcus. "Stupid, noble, carpenter-wannabe i***t. You left me!"

Marcus held her with one arm, Caleb with the other.

"You came," he said, like he couldn't believe it.

"Rule 4," she said, tears on his neck. "No more being noble and stupid. We go together. Always."

Chief walked over, looked at the three of them hugging in the mud under the gas flares, and shook his head.

"My daughter, my son-in-law, and my other son-in-law now? I need a bigger house."

Agent Rousseau arrived last, out of breath. She looked at Price on the ground.

"Mr. Price, you are under arrest for arms trafficking, kidnapping, and attempted murder. And," she looked at Marcus and Caleb, "thank you for the proof we needed. The drive just decrypted. Dele Cole's warrant was signed five minutes ago."

In the distance, sirens from Port Harcourt. Real police this time. Dele's time was up.

Marcus looked at Amara, at her vest falling off her shoulder, her slippers lost in the mud, her face fierce.

"Still want that bookstore?" he asked.

She smiled, exhausted. "Only if you build it."

"Deal."

---

*END OF CHAPTER 11*