by Ellie Danes
I wanted to tell her everything but, more than that, I wanted to keep Bree safe. I cared for her too much to share all my fears. So, instead, I drove us toward La Puerta Roja in silence.
Chapter Forty-Four
Bree
I knew the name of the bar only because it was painted in faded red letters: La Puerta Roja. From the outside, the bar wasn’t more than a shack. The cedar siding had faded to gray and peeled away from the building under the hot sun. Inside, the narrow windows were blocked by old, broken neon beer signs. It was dark and dank, and it took a long time for my eyes to adjust enough to see the bar name.
The letters looked like blood stains.
I shuddered and pulled my eyes back down to the long row of tequila bottles stacked behind the bar. Next to me, Nathan surveyed the bar with a grim look. He wasn’t disgusted; it seemed like this was exactly the place he’d been looking for. We’d taken a few detours and then stumbled on the unmarked roadside bar.
“There was a bar and grill about a mile back,” I whispered to Nathan.
He shook his head. “I thought you were sick of chain restaurants. This place looks authentic, don’t you think?”
Authentic? It looked like the scene from the movie where the sleepy little bar turned into an all-out brawl.
Good thing there were only two men at the bar and the bartender. He nodded us toward the high-backed wooden booths.
Nathan steered me toward the booth in the corner, but my feet dragged. “I thought you were hungry. I’m not sure they have a kitchen here,” I told him.
He shook his head with another grim smile. “We’re here now. We might as well have a drink. Then you can pick the next place we eat.”
The men at the bar were watching us, and I could feel their eyes raking over me. My skin crawled. No one moved but the atmosphere was spiked. We were strangers and I, especially, did not fit in. The stares would not stop until we left.
I slipped into the booth, thinking the high back would block out the feeling of being watched. Instead, it made me feel like I was stuck in a trap. I could see the door and even a glimmer of blistering sunlight through the front windows, but I was far in the back and caught in the corner of the dark booth.
I perched on the edge of the bench and forced my hands to stay flat on the sticky table top. All I had to do was survive one drink, and we could go.
What on earth was Nathan thinking bringing me to a place like this?
Another small party burst in the front door, full of raunchy greetings for the bartender. The women with them noticed me right away. I got two sharp glares before they turned their backs and sat at a square table right in front of the bar. Their chatter was a welcome sound but they made me feel even more out of place. The men with them looked over and when one’s gaze lingered a little too long, he got kicked under the table.
He narrowed his eyes at me as if it was my fault.
“So, what are you going to have?” Nathan asked. “Beer or something stronger?”
I looked over the selection of bottles behind the bar again. Even from the corner booth, I could see the rattlesnake floating in a bottle of tequila.
My stomach flopped over. “I’m not sure yet.”
Nathan reached across the table and squeezed my hand. “Don’t worry. Just one drink and we’ll go somewhere else to eat. Want a beer?”
I took a deep breath. “I think I’m going to need something stronger than beer.”
The group at the table had finally settled in with a big round of drinks. A lull came over the bar as everyone drank. Everyone except us.
I could feel eyes on me again and when I looked up from Nathan’s hand, the bartender was staring directly at me.
“Why is he staring at me?” I whispered to Nathan.
“Probably because we haven’t ordered yet,” Nathan said.
“Can’t we just go?” I asked.
Nathan looked pained. “We will, but why walk out now? Try a little tequila and I bet you’ll feel better.”
“Not if it has a rattlesnake in it,” I said.
“How about a scorpion instead?” Nathan smiled at me.
His expression was meant to comfort me but it gave me the feeling he was hiding something. The bar wasn’t Nathan’s style at all, and I wondered again what exactly had brought us here.
What wasn’t Nathan telling me?
Nathan chuckled at my dismayed look and moved to join me on my side of the booth. His presence was comforting but I had the feeling he had moved only to observe the bar.
“At least the drink list isn’t the same old boring stuff,” Nathan said. His hand slipped under the booth and squeezed my thigh.
I felt a thrill race up my leg. As much as my mind shouted warnings, my body focused on Nathan’s touch. The booth afforded us enough privacy for his hand to trace lazy circles around my inner thigh. My blood warmed and the feeling of panic started to fade.
I was being ridiculous. It was just a shoddy roadside bar and nothing more. We’d been in a dozen just like it over the last few weeks. I directed my mind to think of it as an adventure. A couple of shots of tequila, a little making out and heavy petting in a dark booth, and I really had nothing to complain about.
My body warmed to the idea and I relaxed.
The nagging thought that Nathan had ulterior motives was still in the back of my mind, but his roaming hand distracted me. Nathan infuriated me. How could I accept that he kept secrets from me at the same time I willingly opened myself to our intimacy?
The answer was that I was in love with Nathan.
“You’re right,” I told him. “I need a drink.”
Nathan nodded and stood up. “Be right back. I gotta hit the head first.”
I reached for his hand, but Nathan strode away across the bar. The relaxed feeling fled without him next to me and I suppressed a shiver. Without him, I felt exposed and out of place.
There was nowhere for me to look that didn’t make me uncomfortable. The women at the table were gossiping in low whispers, and I felt their eyes dart to me now and again. I tried to look around, casual, but the decor set me on edge. Neglected taxidermy animals were hung with thick spiderwebs and in between were violent stills from old western movies. All stand-offs, guns, and dead animals.
Why would Nathan want to come here?
I glanced through the narrow doorway to the back hall where he had disappeared to the bathroom. Then I caught the bartender’s gaze again. He stared at me without blinking, his eyes dark and serious.
I shifted in the booth and then stood up. Panic made it impossible to sit still. I headed toward the narrow doorway after Nathan, but, in my haste, I bumped into a table and knocked a used glass to the floor.
It smashed and the entire bar turned to glare at me. “Sorry,” I said. Then I darted through the doorway and down the back hall.
“Whoa, where are you going?” Nathan caught my arms before we crashed into each other. He’d just come from the bathroom and was shocked to see me.
“I want to leave. Now,” I said.
Nathan gave me a pained smile. “I thought we agreed to get one drink? I promise I won’t get you a tequila shot that has anything floating in it.”
“You can buy a whole bottle of rattlesnake tequila for all I care. As long as you do it somewhere else,” I said.
Nathan hugged me but I could feel him shaking his head in the negative. “This place isn’t so bad. We can survive one drink before we go. Besides, now that I’ve used the bathroom, I feel like I have to buy something.”
I shoved him back but gripped his shirt front. “Why? Why can’t we just go? What aren’t you telling me?”
Nathan rubbed his hands up and down my arms. “Relax, Bree. I just thought we could have a little fun.”
“Fun? Have you seen the looks I’ve been getting?” I asked.
Nathan backed me up against the wall and nodded. His eyes raked down over my body. “And I can see why people are looking.”
I couldn�
��t catch my breath before he crushed his mouth to mine. Nathan hitched me higher up the wall, his body pressed to me hard. The kiss was insistent, heated, and it sparked both anger and attraction in me. I burned.
Nathan felt me warm and his hands swept up my hips to cup my breasts between us. His breath turned ragged as he rubbed my nipples taut and excited us both. My body betrayed me, melting into his hot kisses, one leg coiling around the back of his thigh to hold him closer to me.
He broke the kiss with a mischievous smile. “Ready for that drink?”
I forced both my feet back to the floor and shoved Nathan hard enough to send him back a few steps. “Fine. You want a drink? I’ll order.”
I flipped my hair and marched out of the back hallway and straight up to the scary bartender. I surprised him with my most flirtatious smile and asked about all the tequilas. When the bartender turned to grab a bottle for me, I looked back at Nathan.
Instead of the jealous frown I was hoping to see, Nathan scrubbed a hand over his mouth to hide a smile.
My stomach burned again. This was all a game, and I was just a pawn for Nathan to use. It made me angry but at least the anger made me fearless.
“Better make that a double,” I told the bartender.
Chapter Forty-Five
Nathan
I watched Bree march up to the bartender. The kiss that had been meant to distract her had set a fire in my blood, and I had to hang back and cool off. The good thing was I had made Bree mad enough to forget her fear. She leaned on the bar and flirted with the bartender over the tequila bottles, shooting me revengeful glances while she smiled at him.
I worried that sending her over was a mistake. The bartender had been staring at her since we came in, but I had misinterpreted his look. Bree was naturally attractive, but his stare had more meaning than lust in it. He looked as if he had something to tell her, and he was just waiting for the right moment.
The bartender glanced over at me, and I felt a cold slide of fear down my spine. Did he recognize me?
He looked back at Bree and gave her a wan smile. I felt a rock in my gut. The bartender was worried about Bree. He knew enough to mind his own business, but he clearly wanted to warn Bree away from me.
How did the bartender at La Puerta Roja know me?
I walked slowly toward the bar. Bree had charmed the bartender into conversation and now they were leaned close to each other over the bar. She studied the bottles and shivered at the stranger contents like a suspended scorpion with stinger intact. The bartender, on the other hand, kept his eyes on Bree’s face.
He was asking her questions. Just little things here and there, but he was probing for something.
I inched forward and heard him ask how long Bree and I had been on the road. Bree glanced up at him and then stood up. She answered with something vague and looked over at me.
The bartender frowned when he saw me coming, but he had to ask one more question. “Been together long? I’d bet you’re more like newlyweds than an old, married couple.”
Bree grinned and forgot our cover story. “We’ve only know each other for a few weeks but it feels like a lot longer.”
Then she remembered our cover story and popped her mouth shut. I walked up then and joined them at the bar.
“My wife is such a flirt,” I said.
The bartender’s frown deepened and so did my fear that he recognized me. The last time we must have met, the time I could not remember, I would have been single and proud of it.
“Drink?” the bartender asked me.
I waved my hand over the selection of bottles he’d spread in front of Bree. “Tequila works for me.”
He shook his head and turned around to choose another bottle from the back shelf of the bar. “Last time you were here, you had a preference for the cobra whiskey.”
The bartender set the bottle in front of me and grabbed two shot glasses. Then he poured and took one of the shots himself.
“The last time I was here?” I picked up my shot and sloshed a few drops on the bar between us. “When was that?”
The bartender’s eyebrows went up. “About a month or so ago.”
“You’re sure?” I asked.
He gestured to the sparse crowd. “We don’t get many out-of-towners. I remember you. You came in about a month or so ago and got a taste for the cobra whiskey.”
I looked at the coiled snake in the bottle. “Then I better have another shot.”
He poured it then stood with his arms crossed over his broad chest. I raised my shot glass to him in a silent toast and hoped the burning alcohol would help me remember. The whiskey slipped down my throat like a wildfire but my memory stayed dark.
“Any recollection of who I was with?” I asked.
The bartender nodded with tight lips. He poured himself another shot of whiskey and knocked it back with a sharp motion.
I faked a laugh. “Must have been on a bender, because I don’t really recall. No offense.”
“You looked pretty sober and serious to me,” the bartender said.
“Help me out?” I asked.
He frowned, then darted a glance across the entire establishment before he answered me. “Adrian Juarez. He’s the only reason I didn’t throw you out as soon as I saw you. If you have business with him, you’re welcome, but the second your business is over, you are not coming in here again.”
I sat down hard on the nearest bar stool. “Adrian Juarez. Oh god. I knew that name sounded too familiar to be something I’d made up.”
The bartender scowled. “You got a real problem with your memory or are you just trying to be clever?”
I looked him straight in the eyes. “Do I look like I’m faking it?”
“Can’t imagine you’d come back in here in your right mind,” the bartender said.
I wondered if the spinning sensation was the whiskey or my memory fighting to return. The bartender raised the whiskey bottle again but I turned my shot glass over. The cobra in the bottle swayed back and forth, its pickled eyes still holding a sharp threat.
“Adrian Juarez,” I said. “Could you describe him?”
The bartender snorted and turned to walk away, but he stopped when I stood up. “You must really be messed up in the head,” he said.
He came back and leaned on the bar, describing the gunman we’d run into at the bank. He was the same one who recognized me when I saved Bree, the one who had called out my name in that vivid dream.
I had been right for weeks: the gunman after us was none other than Adrian Juarez.
“Do I have to tell you who he is, too?” the bartender asked.
I shook my head. “I don’t know his title but I know he works for the New Mexico City Cartel.”
Bree had been listening with a blank expression but now she choked on her drink. The bartender came to her rescue with a plastic bottle of water. He twisted the cap off and handed it to her then returned to face me.
“You two looked pretty friendly, though you were here to talk business. Couldn’t tell if it was a long business meeting that turned to drinking or drinking that turned to serious business. You were here a while.” The bartender was more relaxed now that he’d decided I was insane.
“Friendly?” Bree spluttered. She put down the bottle of water and took another sip of tequila. “They were what? Drinking buddies?”
The bartender gave her a softened look but shrugged. “Like I said, looked like more than that. Adrian Juarez likes to do business here sometimes and, because of that, I don’t ask questions.”
Bree was so shocked that she leaned limply against the bar. I watched her hand tremble as she raised the tequila to her mouth again.
The worst of it wasn’t her fear or the bad memories of Juarez’s men kidnapping her, it was the fact that I wasn’t more surprised. What the bartender said rang true.
I knew Adrian Juarez, and we’d had business together before my memory went dark.
Bree refused to meet my eyes. She had worried a
ll along that I was hiding something and now she knew the truth. Not only had I discovered the identity of the man who’d kidnapped her, but I had kept it a secret from her. And, worse than that, I knew the man.
We were friendly, the bartender had said.
I turned to her and reached out a hand. “I should have said something but I didn’t know for sure. I didn’t want to worry you.”
Bree shrank away from my hand and finished her tequila. “I think I’ll have another,” she said to the bartender.
“Bree, please…” My voice trailed off. How could I ask her for any more understanding?
She had been with me, on my side, from the first time we’d met in her old diner. I had tested her loyalty over and over again. Not to mention getting her shot at, kidnapped, and forcing her to fake her own death.
Now she was halfway across the United States and finally finding out the truth about me. It didn’t matter that I was discovering it at the same time.
“Why don’t you go back to the booth? I’ll be there in a minute,” Bree said.
I worried about the hard edge in her tone, but was grateful for a few minutes alone to gather my thoughts. I sank into the booth and tried to keep my eyes off Bree. The bartender leaned across and talked to her quietly.
My head was swimming with broken pieces from my memory. I didn’t remember the bar but I remembered sitting across the table from the gunman in his dark suit. Instead of feeling relief at finding one more clue, my stomach sank. None of it made sense.
What business could we possibly have together? And how did Maggie fit in with Adrian Juarez and the cartel?
Then the bartender laid one big hand over Bree’s and all other thoughts flew out of my mind.
I couldn’t blame her if she wanted distance between us, but the jealousy was uncontrollable. Bree was mine. Mine to hold close and keep safe.
My gut twisted again. How could I keep Bree out of danger when it was becoming more and more clear that I was the one causing all the trouble?
Chapter Forty-Six
Bree