by Melissa Jane
I ran through things quickly including my stolen Glock and while he listened attentively, his partner took notes.
When they concluded taking photos, I closed the door behind me and made my way to the station. I had a bag packed with clothes and toiletries and a desire to get as far away from everyone as soon as possible. I needed the space so I could piece the puzzle together and remove myself from immediate danger.
“Cross,” the Chief greeted with no hint of a smile.
“Why do I have to surrender my service weapon? Is there something going on that I should be aware of?”
“I don’t know, is there?” His tone was accusatory.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He rubbed his jaw and distractedly moved a file around on his desk without purpose. “Precautionary, Cross. That’s all it is.”
“That’s bullshit.”
His eyes shot up to meet mine. “I beg your pardon?”
“Precautionary would be to ensure I was safe instead of leaving me vulnerable. Now I have Garcia’s killers after me. They’ve ransacked my apartment and left a delightful warning spray painted on my bedroom wall.”
He considered me a while absorbing my words. He didn’t strike me as someone who was overly concerned or unconcerned. He was neutral.
“I will ensure your apartment is kept under watch and any suspicious activity will be reported to me directly.”
I chose not to reveal I was leaving town. Evan had me doubting everyone at the moment and keeping my cards close to my chest was purely out of survival. Placing my badge and cuffs on his desk, I turned to leave with nothing more to say.
“Cross,” the Chief called.
Turning I met his hardened glare. In that moment, I wondered what I’d ever done to make him resent me as much as he did.
“Don’t go anywhere near Evan Jacobs again.”
***
Before I could pull the cover off my long since used Volkswagen, the disposable phone Evan had given me buzzed in my pocket. Normally, I wasn’t an edgy person, but since my level of trust in others had been compromised I felt an acute sense of awareness.
Evan: You’re on the next flight to San Antonio.
What?
Glancing longingly at my car, I gave in to being ordered around. Clearly Evan had plans. Flying me around the country was one of them. Hooking my backpack over my shoulders, I hailed a cab outside my apartment. Forty minutes later I was passing through security at JFK airport. Making my way through the gates, my name sounded over the intercom demanding my immediate arrival.
“Couldn’t have booked me a later flight?” I grumbled, weaving through the crowd down to my gate. The flight attendants saw me approaching, their eager faces now relieved their last passenger was boarding. As they scanned my ticket, the feeling I was beginning to both love and hate took hold. A small shiver ran up my spine, the hairs on my neck standing on end. Spinning around, I scanned the now empty gate waiting area.
There was no one there. No sign of the stranger that was the master of making me feel this way.
“Ma’am?”
The check in attendant pulled my attention.
“You need to make your way onto the plane.”
“Did you see anyone standing here?” I pointed over my shoulder. “Behind me, just now?”
Her perfectly arched brows knitted together in confusion, head slightly shaking. “No, ma’am.”
Taking my ticket, I threw one last glance over the empty space before walking to the plane.
On board, I ordered a glass of red wine and sat there anxiously wondering what my next move would be once I landed. Was Evan going to keep messaging destinations or was I on my own? I had no idea if what I was doing was the right thing. A part of me believed I should still be in New York, fighting the battle to bring Garcia’s killers to justice. Instead, I was running like a coward, allowing a man who had been abandoned by the force, fill me with doubts over my own employment and trust of those I worked with.
Chapter 8
The flight ended quicker than expected thanks to dozing off half an hour in. Without having to wait for luggage, I made my way straight through the San Antonio airport and was immediately hit by a wall of dry heat.
It felt incredible.
My skin tingled in the most delicious way, the humidity and stench of New York City was something residents grew used to in the summer, but only when experiencing a dry heat did we appreciate the summer to its full capacity.
The disposable phone buzzed.
Evan: The Flamingo.
That did not sound promising.
Climbing into the first cab at the rank, I mentioned the hotel and he took off without a word.
The Flamingo was exactly what I expected. A motel constructed in the mid-seventies and well… flamingo pink. There hadn’t been any recent updates to the décor and judging by how far we were from the tourist city, I doubted they would ever invest in renovations.
“How many nights?” the surly receptionist barked.
“Ahh…” I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea how long Evan wanted me to stay.
“Name?”
“Nina Cross.”
She scanned through her twenty-year-old computer, the ten bracelets she wore clanging together when she moved the mouse
“An overnight stay.”
“Okay.”
She looked at me as if were simple. I suppose not knowing my own itinerary would make me appear so.
“The dining hall is around to the right. Dinner starts at six.”
Taking the key, I made my way up two flights of stairs and stopped outside room 501. Scoping the outside before I locked myself away, my mind was not put at ease by what I saw. There were many places to lurk. Too many ominous shadows and definitely not enough lighting. Dusk was beginning to coat everything in a pink hue which only added to the already prominent Flamingo Motel.
Locking the door behind me, I switched on the small bedside lamp, dropped my bag on the bed and headed straight for the shower. Turning it on, I waited until I saw steam rise quickly fogging the cracked mirror. Idly walking back into the bedroom, I stripped down and tossed my clothes into a pile.
Stepping under the steady stream, I allowed the heat to soothe my nerves and calm my hyperactive imagination. It felt like heaven in a world that was quickly becoming my personal hell. Washing my face, a flicker of something in the small window stilled me. My heart rate spiked, eyes flicking to the bag on the bed. It held the Glock Evan had given me. More movement by the window and I was certain there was someone there. Watching. Drawing the shower curtain across my torso, I blinked furiously shaking free the droplets. When I narrowed my gaze, the figure was gone. Had I imagined the whole thing? I was certain I had met another pair of eyes beyond the ripped fly screen. I couldn’t imagine someone would be lurking behind a hotel, but judging how my heart was still pounding in my chest, I knew I couldn’t have been mistaken.
The most dangerous thing I could do was convince myself my suspicions were crazy. Thoughts like that would get me killed.
Turning off the shower, a rhythmic fall of drops sounding as they hit the particularly unhygienic tiles. Wrapping the towel tight around my body, I hot footed it across into the bedroom retrieving my phone to text Evan.
Me: Do you have your man watching me?
I impatiently waited, tapping the phone against my palm until it buzzed.
Evan: You won’t see him but he is there.
Me: Are you sure about that? I just saw a man watching me while I showered.
Evan: I assure you that was not my man.
Me: Should I be worried?
Evan: Yes.
Shit!
Throwing the cell on the bed, I dried the rest of my body in haste and changed into a fresh set of clothes. I would sleep in them in case I had to make a quick getaway.
The cell vibrated with another message.
Evan: Jair Ruiz is looking into it.
I heaved a sigh of relief de
spite dread bubbling in my gut. The whole thing would make more sense to me if I knew what they wanted. But for some reason, I was a target on their radar and I was yet to learn my fate in the story they were telling. Had they really followed me from New York or did they have eyes everywhere?
Deciding it safer behind closed doors, I opted out of dinner and instead lay on the bed, my Glock poised on my thigh, finger on the trigger. What felt like two hours passed and the sky was well and truly black. With all the lights off I was sitting in darkness, eyes glued to the walkway window. I hadn’t seen a single movement since I took up station and I was growing weary.
Pulling the laptop from my bag, I started it up and connected to the motel Wi-Fi. If I was going to come out of this alive, I had to find some answers.
My first search was of Evan Jacobs. I still didn’t know if I fully trusted him and he was shady about why exactly he’d been suspended. After coming up empty on all search no matter the word combination I entered, I figured whatever happened must have been kept on the down low.
About to close the browser, I saw my mailbox contained four unread messages. Opening my inbox, I found three of them were spam and the other from a name I didn’t recognize. The message was blank but the email came with an attachment. Clicking on the paper clip icon, a document came to life. It was an online article and immediately I knew who it was from despite the clever alias name. Alex. Sending a telepathic thank you, I read through every word it had to offer. It was about Evan and dated just over a year ago.
From what I could gather by a lot of vague explanation, Evan was suspected of working closely with the Baja Californian cartel off La Paz, Mexico and not in favor of the FBI. He was accused point blank of inciting a drug war between the Baja cartel who controlled the narcotics flow in California and Los Santos cartel who were making a name for themselves on the east coast. Since the Tijuana border has become prime DEA land, the Baja were forced to move crossing points. El Paso. The same section of border the Los Santos had controlled for decades. The article failed to elaborate Evan’s role in all this, but it was when I saw one name my stomach rolled.
Garcia.
He too had been under investigation but was later cleared of any involvement.
Closing my laptop, I ran the story through my head a million times. If they knew Evan was involved, why not arrest him? Were there other people somehow connected that couldn’t risk going down with him?
Why was Garcia killed?
And why were one or both of these cartels after me?
Chapter 9
I awoke with a start, my skin drenched in sweat, heart pounding against my rib cage. Something wasn’t right. Whatever had frightened me in my dream had followed me into reality. I bolted upright, staring through the darkness.
Then I saw them. The reason for my panic. Two men. Their physiques medium build with square shoulders, their bodies silhouetted against the outside balcony light. They were standing there, watching, unmoving, facing into my room, only the window pane and thin, worn curtain separating us. Searching desperately for my Glock, I felt the coolness of the metal down by my thigh. Finger on the trigger, I waited, locking eyes with those watching me.
Who were they?
What were they doing?
One of them moved, his hand reaching for something I couldn’t see. Not taking any chances, I rolled fast off the bed, landing heavily on the floor and out of view from the watchers.
I expected the window to shatter from bullets. I expected to have to duck for cover. Instead, when I braved a glance, they were gone. The two men who had been there one second were now nowhere to be seen. Reaching up, I felt around the mattress for my cell. Laying back on the floor, I dialed Evan’s number. It rang out which I half expected. The time on the screen read 2.36 a.m. Instead of calling back he sent me a message.
Evan: What?
Me: I’m out. They know I’m here. This Jair Ruiz is clearly lacking in the skills department.
I waited but no response came for at least another hour.
Evan: Hire car down the road. Opens 8am. Head to Cali.
I didn’t sleep a wink for the rest of the night. Instead, I sat propped up against the bedside table, eyes trained on the window, waiting for my watchers return. First light, I was out.
***
Daylight finally broke. I rose tired, sore, and exhausted from my stationed position on the floor. Stretching out my tight muscles, I felt the ache slowly ease. I staggered my way to the bathroom, thankful that I could now see the outside balcony without issue. Washing my face with cold water, I sighed heavily. It was a sigh of exhaustion yet knowing my adventure had only just begun. Studying my reflection in the mirror, I cringed at the dark circles under my eyes. Resigned to the fact that no amount of makeup could rectify the damage, I straightened my wonky ponytail instead.
Packing my bag of the few meager belongings I had, I hooked my Glock in my waistband. I was excited to finally leave the shoe box death trap with the benefit of daylight.
Yanking the door open, I staggered back in shock. The back of my knees hit the bed, forcing me to sit. My Glock was already at my target, his figure silhouetted by the morning sun glaring behind him. I couldn’t disguise the shake in my hand, my surprise by being caught off guard, obvious.
“Nina,” the perfect stranger’s deep, gravelly voice broke through my fear.
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m here for you.”
“Jair Ruiz?”
There was a pause as he stepped into the room, his roguishly handsome face now exposed. My thoughts betrayed me, taking me back to a few nights ago where he handled my body with such ease and complexity. My thighs automatically clenched, remembering the feel of his face between my legs.
“Yes,” was all he replied, his gaze holding mine.
“You’re the man Evan sent to look out for me?”
He nodded.
“Where were you last night when two men paid me a visit?”
“What two men?”
“I don’t know. We didn’t make introductions. They stood at that window staring in at me.”
“Did they do anything else?”
“Other than terrorizing me, no.”
His eyes drifted to the roof, his mind elsewhere.
“Do you know who they are?”
Ruiz’s gaze met mine again. “I have an idea.”
“Were they here to kill me?”
“Yes.”
“Right,” I began. Standing, I edged around Ruiz fighting the gravitational pull between us. “I’m leaving. No need to follow me. I need someone who’s present when the shit hits the fan or not at all.”
His hand circled my elbow spinning me around to face him. “You don’t stand a chance against these people, Nina. Don’t be foolish.”
“You were nowhere to be seen last night. I think I can do an all right job at keeping myself alive. Besides which, as soon as they realize I have zero to offer them, they’ll leave me alone.”
“But you do.”
“Correction. I’m nothing to them. Garcia was my partner for all of a year. He spoke nothing of Los Santos or Baja cartel and he certainly never brought up Evan Jacobs name. There’s no way I am involved in any of their dealings.”
Ruiz’s grip tightened drawing me in close against his chest. It was a possessive move and one that had me torn between emotions. While one part of me wanted to slap him in the face for his presumptuousness, the other ninety percent begged to be taken the way I had been when he broke into my apartment.
“You’re looking too much within the square, Nina.” His broody stare made my knees grow weak. “Sometimes it all comes down to the wealth of knowledge others see in you.”
“Whatever,” I said breathily. “I need to get out of here before—”
“Before?”
“Before I get killed or do something I shouldn’t. Both equally as bad.” Pulling out of his grasp, I crossed the threshold before he stopped me.
> “Nina.” I secretly loved how he said my name with a slight accent. “Evan Jacobs aside, I was watching you well before you even knew who I was.”
Chapter 10
To say I wasn’t now officially on edge would be a lie. My fingers wrapped around the steering wheel of the hire car until the knuckles turned white, eyes flicking to the rear view mirror every five seconds. The highway was quiet which I was both thankful for and nervous about. The next town I stopped at was El Paso. Since I’d traveled the long stretch of road without any suspicious activity, I was almost certain I’d lost whoever it was following. I was even sure Ruiz had lost track of me. I shivered, a pleasant sensation I was becoming accustomed to since he entered my life. Everything about the man turned me on, and at the same time, he absolutely petrified me.
Pulling into a small town just outside of El Paso, I looked around for motels that were more secure without easy access to balconies. I found one that had security gates in front of the door. It also had a full restaurant downstairs which made my tummy grumble in displeasure of being starved for so long. I hadn’t wanted to stop on the drive here, instead choosing the safer option by reaching my next destination.
“You here alone?” The man behind the counter asked. He was in his early sixties with white hair and a thick white mustache. His accent was a bit more country than what I was used to.
“Yes,” I replied hesitantly, not knowing why I was asked such a question.
He nodded before looking back at the computer screen. Before he could look back up at me, his eyes fell to my belt.
“We don’t take to well to violence around here,” he warned nodding toward my Glock, which was holstered at my waist. My jacket partially covered it but he could just make out the grip.
“I’m an agent with the FBI if that changes things.”