“Why not? That’s the least the CIA can offer for ditching me.” Andrade rested an elbow on the roof of the vehicle, leaning in.
Migs finished his breakfast in a couple of bites and pointed the tip of the bottle toward the Brazilian. “It’s not gonna happen because I don’t make it a habit of leaving a man behind.” Considering the matter closed, he opened the door and got into the vehicle beside Ariana.
There was no movement from Andrade for a while. He probably expected Migs to jump at the chance of making a go for the Embassy. Lucky for Andrade, Migs wasn’t built that way.
Besides, the man was growing on him.
“Two cars behind us.” They were six miles from Cayetano when Migs spotted the tail. They were in a section where there was farmland for miles. The road was busy with trucks and smaller farm vehicles, but there were also regular ones like their Volvo—well, not exactly. No luxury car except theirs.
Two vehicles—a jeep with a mounted gun and a smaller version of an Army personnel carrier appeared out of nowhere.
They just passed the town of Zirimbo, and if Migs were to guess that town had spotters on the roof. Frequently they were street kids who aspired to be a narco one day. People like Benito exploited that dream by giving them a sense of belonging when they were not wanted at home.
The mood of the traffic changed. Regular cars behind them fell back as the military vehicles picked up speed.
“Buckle up,” Migs muttered.
“I see them,” Andrade said.
If he’d have to engage, it would be from the passenger window this time. He handed his phone to Ariana. “Call Joaquín. Tell them we’re five miles out.”
Ariana called his cousin.
“Put him on speaker.”
“Miguel?” Joaquín’s voice came on.
“Yeah, cuz, we’re almost there. We’re on Uruapan - El Copetiro highway. Unexpected guests on our tail.”
“Situation?”
“Two vehicles. Military type. Not sure how many men on the carrier. Other is a jeep with a machine gun.”
“Okay. Mobilizing Yetis.”
His cousin ended the call.
“Yetis?” Andrade chuckled.
“Are you seriously laughing at a time like this?” Doctor Bennett snapped.
“Oh, she speaks.”
Come to think of it, the doctor had been quiet since their last rest stop. Migs wondered if she didn’t take too kindly to Andrade saying he was going to take ownership of her work should he be left behind. Whatever. They could resume their weird vibe when they arrived in Michoacán.
“Your cousin’s private army?” Andrade asked.
“Watch the fucking road.”
He was thankful they weren’t passing through another town, waiting for an ambush. The only way they could’ve found Migs was that Benito knew he was going to go to Michoacán.
“They better be good,” the other man muttered.
Their tail was almost on them and was within firing distance.
Migs glanced briefly at Ariana. Tense lines bracketed her mouth, but determination gleamed in her eyes. He reached down and slipped out his semi-automatic plus two loaded magazines and handed them to his wife. “Here. Just in case.”
“Migs …”
“It’s going to be fine,” he stated resolutely, keeping his eyes on the road. Deep in his gut, he knew this to be so, but he didn’t know fuck all where that confidence was coming from.
The gunner on the jeep took position. Migs rolled down the window on his side. “Brace.”
The word barely left his lips when their pursuer riddled their car with a barrage of bullets.
Andrade cursed and their vehicle swerved.
“Hold it steady,” Migs yelled. The last thing he wanted was to catapult out of the Volvo as he assumed his shooting stance. Anchoring his leg between the seats, he hung out the window and returned fire, setting his rifle on fully automatic.
His bullet struck the driver’s windshield and the jeep spun out of control, throwing the men in the back. The army carrier behind them clipped the jeep, but barely slowed down. The passenger stuck out a rifle and started shooting.
The women screamed.
“Are you hurt?” Andrade yelled at someone. “Charly! Ariana! Dammit.”
Migs ducked back into the car and the headrests had bullet holes. If the women weren’t hunkering down, they would have been shot through the head.
“I’m okay. The bullet hit the windshield,” Charly said.
“I’m fine,” Ariana gritted. “Go.” She was looking at Migs.
Resuming shooting position, he aimed at the driver again, but hit the side mirror. Taking out the driver frequently ended in a more disastrous crash for a vehicle but the outcome of shooting out the tire wasn’t as predictable. Swearing, he went for the bigger target and pumped a couple of rounds at the tire. A few of them ricocheted off the asphalt and the tire itself until one seemed to have penetrated enough to damage the threads.
The pursuing vehicle listed and was slowing down.
“Miguel!” Ariana screamed.
A force jolted him. Migs hit his head on a hard edge and the whole world spun, sending his body bouncing around in the steel death trap. The crunch of metal was deafening, the beating his body took was a bitch and he tried to hang on to Ariana’s voice calling his name in horror, over and over.
26
“Miguel!”
Ariana watched in horror as her husband got tossed around in the Volvo when another vehicle rammed them from the side. When their car stopped spinning, Antonio ordered them out. There was no time to even catch a breath. Barely able to move her shaky limbs, Ariana went around to Miguel’s door and opened it. Antonio shoved her aside and dragged her husband’s unconscious form out.
“I smell gasoline,” Antonio said, and she clamped her mouth shut. Anything was better than being trapped in a burning vehicle. “He’s stubborn. He’ll be fine.” He hefted Miguel on his shoulder and grabbed the rifle.
Ariana wasn’t too confident in that statement. She recalled seeing Migs cracked his head really hard on the edge where the window met the roof of the car.
“Go! Get behind those rocks.” Antonio turned to Charly and snarled, “Leave those and—fuck! Leave it, dammit!”
Ariana realized Antonio’s urgency when men appeared at the edge of the road up the embankment. Men with guns pointed at them.
“Run!” Antonio roared. “I’ve got him, Ariana.”
She shook out of her hesitation and ran for her life, trusting the man to carry her husband—and she hoped, not use him as a shield. Her chaotic thoughts swirled as rapidly as the bullets that chased them, but they seemed to be locked on Antonio.
When they finally reached the rock formations, Antonio lowered Migs to the ground and checked his rifle. “He doesn’t have a full mag. How about you?”
She showed him the gun and the two magazines Miguel gave her.
“I’m their target,” Antonio told them. “They don’t want to kill you or Charly. We’ll fight as long as we can, but if they kill me and Walker, do not fight them. You hear me?”
“I can’t go back,” she whispered.
“Yes, you can,” he told her. “Garrison found you once. He will find you again.”
“I can’t do it without Miguel.”
Antonio was about to say something when a voice below her said, “Yes, you can.”
“Migs!” she cried, sinking to the ground beside her husband.
“Guys, they’ve left the roadside,” Charly warned. “You’ve got to hold them off now.”
“I’m okay,” Migs told her. “Help Andrade. Let me shake this off.”
Heart pounding, she pressed a hard kiss on his lips and gripped the gun.
A line of men approached stealthily as one would when circling a wounded and feral animal. They were using the Volvo as a shield. But as they moved closer, they shot against their rock.
“I’m going to draw their fire,” Antonio
said. “Hope you hit a couple of them.” Before Ariana could ask what he meant, he popped up, aimed, and fired before running off toward a cluster of rocks to their left.
A rattle of artillery followed him.
Heart in her throat, Ariana emerged from hiding and started shooting at the men who were all turned toward Antonio. She managed to hit one in the leg and caught another in the back, but she didn’t let up.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Guns swung back in her direction and bullets kicked up rock fragments. Ariana dove to the ground.
“Oh my God! Oh my God!” Maybe she should draw their fire away too. She inhaled a series of ragged breaths and waited for strikes on their location to veer back to where Antonio ran off to. Bullets pelting their craggy shield appeared to be ebbing and the billionaire was drawing their fire again. Ariana steeled her spine to shoot back, but hands closed over hers. She didn’t notice that Migs had crawled over to her.
“I’ve got this.”
“But Migs—”
“But nothing. I’m good.” He split a look between Charly and her. “Both of you withdraw further—to that boulder when I draw their attention. Okay?”
“But—” Charly started.
“Okay?” he repeated firmly.
Without waiting for their answer, he ran the opposite direction Antonio had taken and started shooting.
“Come on,” Ariana shouted over the din of the fiery exchange. They belly-crawled to another section of brush and jagged rocks where a bigger boulder sat, and she realized why Migs asked them to move. A tree line was behind it and if things got desperate, Ariana and Charly could run and hide in the forest. It was a better chance. But for whom?
She couldn’t bear to think of life without Migs. Her heart was feeling this strongly now.
The shooting was relentless and more men in army uniforms joined the fray. Minutes passed and the left corner became silent.
Antonio was out of ammo. Their attackers realized this and rose up from their cover of shallow rocks. Migs tried valiantly to draw them away from Antonio, but he ran out of bullets too.
“Now what?” Charly whispered.
One of the army guys ransacked the Volvo and came away with the pelican case and the backpack with the virus.
“Oh hell no.” The doctor rose, but Ariana yanked her back down.
“Wait.”
“Wait … what?” Charly snarled. “It’s over. Andrade and Miguel are going to die if we don’t surrender.”
There were nine men left standing and they split into threes. One line went toward Antonio, another went toward Miguel, and the last three men headed for them.
“Migs has something planned,” Ariana said. Her husband wasn’t stupid enough to let the enemy know he’d run out of bullets.
It took all her effort to stay where she was, to trust her husband. She’d dug half-moon circles into her palm to keep still and just when she was ready to break out of her skin, Migs sprung up from nowhere and plugged three successive rounds and took down the men after him.
An altercation exploded where Antonio was holed up.
When she saw Migs go down, struck by a bullet, she started running.
“Noooo! I’m here. Don’t shoot him!”
“Ariana,” Migs roared. “Run, goddammit! Run away.”
“No. No. I won’t.” She skidded to the ground beside him. “I’m not leaving you. Never.”
She looked at the men closing in on them. “I’ll not fight you. Just swear that you won’t kill him. Otherwise, just shoot me too.”
Ariana got on her knees, ignoring the sharp rocks piercing into them. “Just me.”
“And me.” Charly said from behind her. “I’ll go. Benito wants me. Just spare the lives of these idiots.” She glanced over to where Antonio was being held down by two men, a third one ready to pump a bullet into his head.
The men who held them prisoner smiled, but it wasn’t a benevolent one. It was a smile that froze the blood in her veins.
“No,” she whispered.
The de-facto leader of the remaining army guys ordered his two cohorts to grab Ariana and Charly.
She fell on Migs in a panic. “No.”
Before she knew what was happening, Migs had switched their positions and covered her body.
Renewed gunfire erupted and when the frenetic noise stopped and the smoke cleared, men in blue camouflage and red berets approached.
Leading them was Joaquín.
Ariana was fuming. She really shouldn’t be because Joaquín saved their asses. When she thought she was going to witness Migs die before her eyes, fear gripped her entire being. It hadn’t released her from its haunting grasp since.
“I didn’t know how to clue you in,” Migs murmured beside her, their fingers clasped tight as they were led into the Hummer.
“I thought they were going to shoot you in front of me,” she whispered, a tear trickling down her face.
“Hey.” He wiped her tears with the pad of his thumb. “I’m not that easy to kill.”
She had many things to say to that, but she didn’t know how to phrase her words. Luckily, Joaquín got into the vehicle.
“We’ll get you settled in, cleaned, and fed,” His cousin angled his head toward Miguel. “Then you can tell me all about the mess you’re in.”
Ariana’s hackles rose at the scathing tone in Joaquín’s voice, as if this was all Migs’ fault, but they smoothened a little with his next words.
“Then you can let me know how I can help.” After throwing that bit out, Joaquín faced forward and told his driver, “Vámonos.”
She still longed to rant at her husband, but knowing they had an audience, she decided to look out the window at the Mexico she had left all those years ago. Twenty to be exact. All through this, Migs played with her fingers, kissing the back of them while giving them a squeeze. She was thankful for the contact. She needed it.
She was in a weird place, but maybe this was a form of post-traumatic stress she was experiencing. This constant agitation. Why couldn’t she settle down when they were so protected?
“We’re almost there,” Migs said. “You’ll be safe, Ari.”
So many times she thought she was safe, and every time this was proven wrong. But still, she nodded. Her faith in Migs hadn’t diminished. She just had to come to terms with her fears.
When they arrived at the hacienda, it was like one of those places that Ariana both admired and loathed as a child. She never thought she would see what was on the other side of the wall, and yet here she was. The Hummer drove through a fortified gate and armed men patrolled the area.
“Is security always this heightened?” Migs asked his cousin.
“No,” Joaquín replied. “Ever since the attack at Abbi Mena’s party, I’ve upped patrols. But we’re on high alert now since you tried to assassinate Benito Carillo.”
“That wasn’t the objective. There are so many things you don’t know.”
“And I expect to have the answers, like why is Carillo so interested in your wife?”
Migs didn’t answer.
“I’ve heard rumors, but …” Joaquín looked pointedly at his driver. “I hope you’ll enlighten me on certain things.”
The Hummer pulled in front of the sweeping staircase of a two-story Spanish-style villa. “I can’t tell you everything, Joaquín.”
“Entiendo,” he replied. “I understand this. But in saving your life, I deserve to know exactly what I’m getting into.”
“Does saving your cousin’s life come at a price?” Ariana cut in. “Shouldn’t you be doing this because you’re family?”
“Respectfully—and that’s because Migs already warned me what will happen if I talk to you in any other way—your husband owes me an explanation regarding my father’s death.”
Joaquín shoved open his door and opened Ariana’s. She stepped down but was immediately swept up by her husband. “We’ll talk later. My wife needs attention.”
“Miguel, you
r ribs!” she exclaimed.
But all her husband did was grunt and proceeded up the staircase. Ariana recognized Elena waiting for them at the top of the steps.
As señora de la hacienda she certainly looked put together in a poofy up-do and a face that appeared sculpted from porcelain.
Ariana was aware of her own hospital scrubs and torn slippers and admired the other woman’s silk sheath dress. When did silk dresses become the attire for the hacienda?
Old insecurities reared their ugly heads.
“I have rooms ready.” Elena looked past them, her blood red lips parting when she saw their other companion. “Is that Antonio Andrade?”
Ariana resisted the urge to roll her eyes, and she felt a rumble in Migs chest. Although he didn’t acknowledge Elena’s question, he did mutter her name in greeting as he passed her.
There was an urgency to his footsteps as he followed the majordomo who led them down the grand hallways of the villa. The bedroom they were put in had ornate walls of stenciled damask plaster. Ariana doubted they were wallpaper as venetian plaster was more suitable to this weather. Renaissance furnishings included a king-size four-poster bed complete with velvety drapes.
When he lowered her to the parquet flooring, her gaze took in the room, and felt like she was transported to a different era. “Wow.”
Migs grunted as he started stripping off her clothes.
“Migs!” She stilled his fingers. “I want to look at you first.”
“I’m fine,” he growled.
“No, you’re not! You got hit twice.”
He tapped his chest. “SAPI plate.”
“Well that’s good, but I still want to see,” she said. “Strip.”
“For a minute I forgot how bossy you are,” he mumbled as he obliged, taking off his shirt. She noted his effort not to wince.
“Stop pretending it doesn’t hurt,” she said.
He glared at her but pulled at his thin vest. Ariana’s eyes widened at the dents. “You were hit five times?” she shrilled.
“Yeah.”
“Oh my God, Miguel,” she cried.
“Hey.” He gripped her shoulders and drew her close. “These are high-performance vests. I had one for you in the truck that got destroyed. I would have given you mine, but it would fall off you.”
Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2) Page 25