by Melissa Jane
He winced, clutching at his chest. “Hunter, please. Please go to the hospital first.” I sat on my knees and leaned over the center console. Gently, I pulled his shirt away from his body and studied the towel I’d placed over his wound. It was no longer blue. Every inch was covered in thick crimson blood.
A single tear ran down my cheek, a hard lump forming in his throat. “Please, you may not survive long enough to find Santos.”
Pulling his eyes from the road, his expression softened but didn’t lack the seriousness. “I won’t stop until one of us is dead.”
Chapter 19
We hadn’t been driving long.
The next staged attack was quickly closing in and was one that would change everything.
We were traveling along a road that seemed to stretch for miles, brown desert either side of us. The house seemed to have been based in the middle of nowhere, a perfect location for a cartel family keen to avoid unwanted attention. We passed no other car and sweet all nothing glimmered on the horizon.
While I was counting my blessings the bullet had hopefully missed anything necessary for survival, I kept a close eye on Hunter as heavy beads of sweat dripped down his temples.
I watched as his eyes flicked between the road ahead and the rear view mirror. His brows subtly creased a little more with each exchange, piquing my interest. Before I had a chance to turn around in my seat, Hunter’s voice had turned serious.
“Get down out of sight, cariña.” Again, he looked between the road ahead and the rear view mirror. “Now!”
Cowering down, I felt that familiar sense of dread. “Tell me what’s happening.”
“We’ve got company.”
“Gabriel?”
“Possibly.”
“What should we do?”
“I need you to stay down for now. But when I start to slow, crawl through the center and pull down the back seats and climb into the trunk.”
“Why are we slowing? Shouldn’t we just keep going as far we can get before we reach a hospital, police station or even the border?”
“I’m going to keep driving until it’s no longer possible. He’s gaining on us.”
Peeking up at the gas dial, my heart sank when I realized we only had enough to last another ten minutes. Hunter knew what was going to happen. I could see him mentally preparing for it.
“How close are they?”
“Less than a mile.” He was speaking as if he were talking about something obsolete, like the weather. I could see he was doing it for my benefit. But I knew the harsh reality of what was coming. Cursing under my breath, I clasped my hands together to stop the trembling.
“Nina…” he now looked between me, the road ahead, and the rear view mirror, “…I need you to listen to me.”
“Okay.”
“Right now, I need you to stay of view. His target is me and without you in sight, he’ll more than likely just focus on me. When you crawl into the trunk and the car comes to a stop, don’t get out. No matter what you hear, no matter what happens on the road, stay where you are.” His face was extremely pale from blood loss and I wasn’t sure how exactly he was going to fight his way out of this one. “If all goes to plan, I will knock three times on the trunk to let you know it’s safe. If I don’t—”
“Don’t say it,” I said, gripping his right hand tight. The lump in my throat seemed lodged there permanently.
Despite everything, Hunter appeared so composed—focused.
Me? I hated that I sounded so scared. I despised the fact that I was terrified of a man who had no business being in life, let alone threatening it.
Lifting my chin, he held my gaze. “Cariña, I will end both of them. I will make them suffer for what they did to Tomas Garcia and to your father.”
“At the cost I may never see you again?”
“It’s been the best week of my life.” The corners of his lips twitched to bring light to the situation, but my heart was hurting too much to laugh.
Catching a tear falling down my cheek with his thumb, he winked. It was a ‘this is it’ kind of wink. A wink that was edging us closer to the finale.
A blast exploded through the car covering me in tiny fragments of sharp glass. The car swerved sharply to the left before Hunter had a chance to reclaim the wheel.
“Stay down!” he yelled twisting in his seat firing three shots through the now broken back window.
A loud pop sounded from the back, one of the wheels now hit sending us violently jerking side to side. We slowed considerably while Hunter struggled to bring the vehicle under control. I was thrown onto the car floor, my head painfully colliding with the door. By now we were captured targets, there was no escape for us. This was it.
From behind, the driver smashed his vehicle into our backend sending us into a spin. It felt like we moved in slow motion, the world slowing down to a pace that allowed Hunter’s eyes to speak a silent apology. We left the smooth tarmac road and careened into the desert dirt, small stones flicking the paneling as we went. Coming to an abrupt stop, Hunter ordered me into the trunk.
“Stay low and be quick,” he said, changing over his magazine. “Remember everything I told you, cariña.”
Clumsy from nerves and fearful of one or both of us not making it, I crept into the back seat. Pulling the middle backrest down, I slid my way into the dark trunk. Putting the center cushion back in place, I lay there, completely still, hoping no one could hear my ragged breathing.
I listened carefully and what felt like an eternity passed before I heard any movement. Doors opened and were quickly followed by instant shouts. It was Gabriel. His voice filled with a rage that couldn’t be tamed.
“Hunter!” he bellowed.
“You’ve got your money, Gabriel. Let it go.”
Bullets were fired back and forth and I instinctively curled into a ball. A fierce debate in Spanish erupted, Gabriel doing most of the shouting, his voice traveling across the desert plain. Another round of shots and a bullet struck the trunk only inches from my head. I muffled the screams, clasping my hands over my mouth, a stream of light filtering through the small hole.
I was petrified. Petrified of losing Hunter and petrified of becoming a pincushion of bullets.
“You were one of us!” Gabriel spat as though he detested saying the words.
“I was never one of you, Santos. You and your uncle were always my targets.”
“Why?”
“You know exactly why.”
“You fucking Colombians are the same. Can’t separate business from personal.”
I didn’t know what he was talking about. The La Balsa massacre?
“Do you know what we do to fucking traitors like you?”
“Whatever you do won’t change the fact that you’re both now targets. Los Santos name will die with you two gone.”
“We were friends, Hunter. I trusted you in the family. You wear our mark like you were one of us. I’ll fucking cut it off you myself.”
Another peppering of bullets erupted through the desert and I wondered how it was playing out on their side. I hoped Hunter had the upper hand, but with them both injured it was hard to determine who would walk out of here alive.
Then everything fell silent.
I waited, heart pounding in my chest so hard I could hear it in my ears.
There was no three knocks on the car trunk.
No voices to tell me everything was okay.
Still, I waited holding my breath, needing answers before my imagination took me to a dark place.
Minutes passed and my heart sank. I cried. I cried hard, gut wrenching sobs. I didn’t want to get out and face the truth. I didn’t want another broken reality. I should have fought alongside him. Maybe we would have stood a better chance at crossing the border together.
Crawling through onto the back seat, my palms and knees were assaulted by a million shards of glass from the broken window. Peering out, I saw no one. No other sign of life.
Pushing the do
or open, I stumbled to the ground, a flaring heat radiating from my thigh. I was covered in desert dirt, broken glass, and blood. The harsh sunlight blinded me, but beyond that lay a disturbing scene. All windows on both cars were shattered. The panel work on both vehicles was crumpled and peppered with bullet holes.
I knew two things—I had to find Hunter and Gabriel, the nephew of Luis Santos, had to die.
Chapter 20
Sweat was dripping down my body, the midday sun sitting high, its ruthless face shining down on me. There was blood. Blood everywhere. Blood splattered over the cars. Thick drops of blood staining the brown dirt. My head grew faint and my stomach churned.
My thigh hurt and I didn’t know why.
“Hunter?” I yelled as best I could, voice raspy and throat dry. “Hunter?”
Silence.
To my left, I saw Gabriel laying on his back. He wasn’t moving. That was a good sign. His torso was covered in blood, limbs sprawled haphazardly.
A groan, one of deep seated pain and defeat had me running around the other side of the car. Hunter was slumped against the wheel, legs stretched out in front of him. I fell to my knees by his side and cupped his cheeks. His mouth was stained with blood, his usual caramel skin now pasty white.
“Cariña,” he breathed and it barely sounded.
“Shh, don’t try and talk. I need to find you some help,” I choked, failing to hide the wave of emotion drowning me.
“It’s too late.”
“No, it’s not. No, it’s not. Don’t say that.” Shaking my head furiously, I looked around with a sense of fading hope.
He lifted his bloodied and dirty hand and held mine which didn’t look much better. “I’m a bad man, cariña. They will never clear your name if they know you were with me.”
“What are you talking about?” With his thick accent and his worsening condition, I wasn’t sure if I’d heard him right.
“Just go and forget about me, I promise it’s for the best. You’re free.”
“No. I’m not leaving.” I was sobbing, the tightness in my throat adding to the pain I felt all round.
“Cariña,” his sorrowful eyes met mine. “I was wrong…” through the pain, his lips turned into a smile, “…you make an excellent agent.”
“Hunter?” His eyes closed and my heart plummeted. “Hunter, wake up. Wake up!”
Releasing his hand, I sprung to my feet and ran to Gabriel’s car. Turned the ignition, it wheezed and moaned with no turnover. The one we drove had a flat and would only get us half a mile down the road before the rubber fell off.
And that was when I felt it.
A fresh trail of blood trickled down the back of my thigh, over my lower leg and dripping off my calf. The heat I felt earlier was coming back with a crippling vengeance. Feeling around the area, I looked at my fingers. Thick blood coated the tips. I’d been shot and didn’t even feel it. The adrenaline was wearing off and agony was taking its place. Overwhelmed with desperation, I ran onto the road. In the north on the horizon was black wavy lines. Feeling some hope reignite, I ran. Despite the numbness taking hold and the stream of blood pouring down my leg, I was fast. Sticking to the middle of the road, I wanted to close the gap between myself and the oncoming vehicle.
Under the scorching heat, dehydrated and injured, I started to slow. Small rocks pierced the bare soles of my feet, the hot tarmac singeing my skin.
I hadn’t made it far, maybe two hundred yards. Using the last of my energy reserve, my strides had now become stumbles. My cries for help were reduced to a husky whisper.
The black vehicle began to slow, the sight of an injured and bloodied woman running down a road in the middle of the Mexican desert, made for a bizarre scene.
Two car doors opened, a man and a woman using them as protection as they watched on curiously.
“Please help,” I begged, although I didn’t know if they heard. “Please, there’s a man against the black car that needs your help. Please help us.”
My legs gave out beneath me, their faces becoming a blur.
Then my world turned to darkness.
Chapter 21
Beep.
Beep.
Beep.
Inside my dark world, I became fearful. It was like the consecutive rhythm of the drips in the basement coming back to haunt me. Except this time, it wasn’t dripping. This time, I was in a bright room, the illumination shining through my closed eyelids.
Peeling them open was a struggle. Everything felt weak like my muscles had been stripped from my body. Sleep beckoned me once more. But when I closed my eyes I saw his face.
Hunter.
Bolting upright, my heart suddenly alive and pounding hard against my rib cage, I heard the pleas of a woman. She approached her face kind, brows furrowed in concern.
“Lay down, please,” she insisted, but I didn’t listen. There was tubing stuck to various points of my body, getting in the way.
“Take them off, please.” When she didn’t move, I practically begged. “Please, I have to find him, take them off.”
“He’s gone,” she replied simply, eyes wide as she watched me.
I stilled, breathing heavily and fighting the pain banging away in my head. “What?” In a second my heart shattered. “No, don’t say that.”
She looked apologetic breaking the news. “He left yesterday.”
Jesus Christ. “What? “How could he leave? He was barely alive in the desert. Why didn’t someone wake me?”
“Ms, you sustained a head injury which caused your brain to swell.”
“How did I do that?” I tried to recall the horrific events that unfolded and nowhere in there had I hit my head, except for on the door of the car, but that was nothing.
“The people who brought you in said you fell and hit your head on the road.”
“Oh…”
“Your companion was in a dreadful state. He required a blood transfusion and suffered from bullet wounds to his chest and shoulder. He was here for six days, you now seven.”
A wave of relief overcame me, and in front of the nurse I cried. Hunter had survived after all. And then as I felt my heart feel some happiness a deep sadness took hold.
“He just left me?”
She nodded, not wanting to rub salt in the wound.
“He wasn’t ready to leave but insisted on signing out. He left you this.”
Retrieving a blood-stained paper wrapped bundle off the side table, she handed it to me, a look of understanding in her eyes.
Inside was my passport.
How did he get that? As soon as I thought it, the answer hit me.
The night he had broken into my house. The night he’d ravaged me in the most glorious of ways. That was what he was doing. Even then he knew somehow, at some point, we would end up over the border.
Two loose pieces of paper stuck out from between the pages. One was a plane ticket back to New York City in a couple of days’ time, some Peso and a few hundred US dollars wrapped around the ticket presumably for the taxis to and from the airport. With a gentle squeeze on the shoulder, the nurse left me alone to deal with my thoughts. The second piece was a note. The tears continued to flow, landing on the stiff white hospital sheets as I read his message.
Cariña,
My personal intrigue. My beautiful obsession.
Don’t let the devil chase you. Look him in the eye and never run.
Yours always…
There was no sign off, no name to tell me who he really was. Pulling the sheet to my cheeks, I wiped the tears and swallowed the lump in my throat. I reread the note what felt like a million times. The first line caused my heart to swell. Was I really his intrigue, his obsession? He had certainly treated me so. The way his broody stare devoured me every time.
The second line was enough to bring my fear bulldozing its way back in my life. It served as a warning. But why?
I thought I’d already faced the devil.
I certainly wasn’t ready to face another
one.
Chapter 22
As soon as I got off the plane, I purchased a new cell from an airport kiosk. It wasn’t a brilliant phone but it would serve a great purpose in just a few hours’ time. My old one along with the rest of my belongings was lost either in a hotel room or somewhere in Mexico. Once I returned home, I had the next task of convincing my landlord, Jerry, to open the room to my apartment. I arrived with only my passport and Hunter’s note clutched in my hand.
“What on earth happened to you?” Jerry asked as I struggled to keep up with him climbing the stairs. Shocked, he took in my bandaged arm, the single crutch for support and the plaster patch over the wound on my head. I looked like shit and I certainly felt it.
“Let’s just say it was an adventure that went wrong.”
He looked unconvinced and I would too if I’d heard it.
Still wide-eyed, he nodded his head and changed the subject. “A group of men in suits arrived a few days ago asking for your whereabouts. They flashed an FBI badge and I assumed they were friends of yours. Told them I didn’t know but figured it wasn’t a bad thing them being here. You know? You being one of them and all. That was until they kept coming back.”
This was not what I wanted to hear. This was bad. If they were scoping out the place that meant they could come back at any time if they hadn’t already seen me.
“You in some kind of trouble, Ms?”
“Perhaps. Yes, I think I am.” I looked at Jerry with a pleading face. “I need a favor, Jerry. But it has to stay between you and me. If they come back, please just keep telling them you haven’t seen me in over a week.”
He shook his head gravely. He was a short little Italian man with a big heart. “It’s not safe for you here, Ms.”