Ambush

Chapter 9

Alex Martinez was back in her comfortable hotel room after a quick drink with the crew and models from the shoot to show them how happy she was with their work. The drink also provided cover if anyone was to ask questions about the shooting that occurred just down the street.

She had gently fended off an awkward invitation from Chaz, the model, to come back to his loft in SoHo, as he downplayed the fact that he had two roommates in a tiny apartment. But Alex had far too much on her mind to be able to concentrate and enjoy an evening with an underwear model. He was a beautiful young man, but not that beautiful.

Now she sat on the edge of the bed reviewing the photos she’d taken earlier while the big flat-screen TV bolted into the wall played the local news. She had dozens of shots of underwear models, plenty of suitable material for her client. But she was more interested in the photos she took of the building where the explosion occurred. The shots of the explosion coming from the building on 161st Street were remarkable.

Her favorite caught the plume of flame at its apex. It was at least three meters out the window, with sparkles of glass around the flame catching the sun just right. She couldn’t have planned a better photo. It made her appreciate how hard wildlife photography would be. Patience was the key. Patience, and a lot of shots with a good lens.

The photos of the explosions were striking, but they didn’t provide her with any information she could use on her job. She needed to know if her target, Detective Michael Bennett, had been killed in the explosion in order to officially close out her contract.

When Alex heard the TV news anchor mention a shoot-out, she looked up. They were calling it the Battle in the Bronx. It might not have made the news if it were just gunfire, Alex thought. But add an explosion to the mix, and it caught their attention.

The anchor revealed that there were several fatalities, but there was no mention of police officers down or even injuries. That was frustrating. She did learn that one of the suspected gunmen was in critical condition at NewYork — Presbyterian Hospital in Washington Heights.

Alex had hired some local gunmen from a Dominican gang. They came highly recommended, and she liked to distance herself from some of the action. It confused local homicide detectives when there was evidence of a gang with multiple weapons. They didn’t think lone assassin in a case like that.

All she wanted to do now was close out the contract and return to her ranch, in Colombia. At least for a little while, until she had to come back to New York and finish her other business.

Her stomach growled, and she realized she had forgotten to eat. She needed to get out, relax a little bit, and wait for the information she needed to become public.

Alex stepped into the bathroom and combed out her long, dark hair. At five feet six, with muscular shoulders and other curves, she knew she’d never be a model, but she appreciated what God had given her to work with.

Her version of self-reliance would terrify most people. It required constant physical fitness and mental sharpness, without slipping. And right now, self-preservation meant she had to get the hell out of New York as soon as possible.