by Fox, Logan
She leapt from the car. Finn tried grabbing her shoulder, her hair, anything—but she evaded him with a twist of her body. This time, it wasn’t Santa Muerte who’d possessed her—a part of her brain she didn’t understand yet had decided to ignore the pain and stiffness in her leg, and forced her body to run.
It was an uneven, hobbling run, but she made it to Angel’s side a second later. Grabbed his shirt. Began dragging him to the car.
Lars had his mouth open, shock writ large on his wide, green eyes. “What the fuck are you doing?” he yelled. “Leave him!”
There wasn’t time to explain. But she threw Lars a desperate, pleading look, and staggered back another step. Her leg was on fire now; invisible flames licked and chewed at her flesh and bones. Tears slid over her cheeks—first from that pain, and then from sheer desperation.
When Lars still didn’t move, she yelled, “You damn well help me!”
And then Finn appeared. He grabbed Angel like a sack of flour, hoisted the young man over his shoulder, and ran back to the truck. She was still following their progress when Lars scooped her off her feet and made after Finn. As her head bobbed, she glanced behind them. Javier’s men were closing in, most aiming at them through their scopes, some circling to the side and speaking into hand-held radios.
Why weren’t they shooting?
A single shot rang out; one of the men had gone into a crouch and begun looking particularly keenly at them. The man beside him’s mouth moved, and he punched the guy in the side of his head so hard that he looked dead when he hit the ground.
Because she was here.
The thought was a strange one. It made her angry, but it made her proud at the same time. It was as if she’d cast some kind of protection spell over these men—her aura was a shield that no bullet could penetrate, because no one would dare fire in case that bullet lodged in her flesh.
The same couldn’t be said for the truck. There was a pop, and the truck listed about an inch to the side.
He’d shot out a tire.
Neither of her men seemed to notice. Finn threw Angel in the backseat, and was already running for the driver’s door when Lars set her down in the back. He urged her down, until she was crowding against Angel’s limp body, and then slid into the passenger seat as Finn threw the truck into gear.
Beside her, Angel stirred. She was lying half on top of him, but when she tried to lift herself up, Finn snapped, “Stay the fuck down!”
“Milo, the towers!” Lars shouted.
“Think that gate’s going to give if we ram it?”
Lars gave a mirthless laugh. “I’m more worried about the fucking snipers!”
“They won’t shoot.”
“Yeah? You have a fucking vision or something?”
“Shoot me, and the car could roll.”
“Injuring Princess Cora,” Lars muttered. “I hear you.”
“Seatbelt,” Finn said as he clipped his in.
“Jesus fuck,” Lars said. “I’m too young to die.”
Angel shivered once, dragged himself straight on the seat, and wrapped his arms around her. She should have struggled. For heaven’s sake, the man had tried to shoot her. Had been about to drag her back to his jefe, El Lobo.
“It’s opening! They’re letting us out!” came Lars’s voice. He slapped the dashboard and let out a whoop. “Yeah, Princess Cora!”
“Shut up,” Finn muttered. “Anyone behind us?”
“Not unless they’re in the shape of dust devils.”
“There’s only one way out of this place. Gonna be piss easy for them to follow us.”
“Yeah, but they have to catch us first. Drive, Milo. Fucking drive!”
When she opened her eyes, Angel was staring at her with a strange light in his eyes. Confusion, wonderment, awe. He cupped the back of her head, seeming oblivious to the truck bouncing and careening over the uneven ground.
“You saved my life,” Angel murmured in Spanish. “Why would you do such a thing?”
She swallowed. Tears pricked her eyes, but they were tears of relief. Perhaps aftershock. Angel wiped them away with a thumb, and gave his head a small shake.
“I am not a good person, Eleodora,” Angel whispered. “You should have left me. I deserve nothing more.”
“Maybe not,” she replied, keeping her voice low so Finn and Lars wouldn’t hear. “But I need you. I don’t know why, but Santa Muerte gave you to me for a reason.”
Surprise flickered over Angel’s face, tugging his beatific mouth into a confused smile. And then realization broke over him like a wave, and those arms gripped her hard, fierce. “Because I’ve seen the face of our enemy. I know where he lives,” he said. His voice sounded hollow, but resigned. Then he sighed, and pressed tighter against her. “And I can take you to him, señorita.”
“Call me La Sombra,” she said, but so quietly, she doubted he’d heard. She had no idea why she’d said that, but once it was out it sounded right.
From behind, came a short burst of gunfire. Then more. Angel stretched around her, hugging her against his chest. Protecting her.
It had to be the drugs left in her system. Because… instead of feeling trapped, she felt safe.
54
Two and a half
“Hey, get your fucking hands off her!”
Cora snapped awake with a furiously beating heart, blinking in confusion as Angel’s warm body was snatched away from her. The angle of the day’s light had shifted since she’d last been conscious; it looked to be late afternoon judging from the dusty rays sliding through the SUV’s windshield.
Angel briefly struggled against the fist Lars held him with, and then pushed himself into the corner.
She pushed herself up, gently pressing against Lars’s hand until he released Angel and settled back in his seat. Lars gave her a disgusted look, shook his head, and faced forward.
She could understand why Lars was pissed off with her. She’d been snuggling on the back seat with the same man who’d almost blown out her brains. But that wasn’t all. This went beyond simple anger or irritation. She could remember his face, when Angel cocked that gun.
Fear.
Not for himself. Not for the situation, or the mess afterward.
He’d been terrified she would die.
“Lars,” she said, and put her hand on his shoulder. “When we—”
He shrugged away from her, sat forward in a rush and peered out the windshield. “You drive like my fucking grandmother,” he said to Finn. “We’ll never make it anywhere at this rate.”
The men must have stopped to change the tire, because the car seemed to be running smoothly now.
Finn threw him a glance like he knew Lars’s irritation wasn’t his doing, and then pushed down on the accelerator.
“You’re getting us out of the speeding ticket,” he said, as the SUV began eating up the miles of tar stretching ahead of them.
Cora sat back in her seat. Angel glanced across at her when she settled. She reached out, lay her fingers over the fist in his lap, and tried to will calm into him. His other hand, the bandaged one, he held to the side; stiff and open-fingered as if it hurt to close it.
As if that touch had opened a locked door in her mind, memories streamed back. She blinked hard, mind churning.
Angel had been taking her to El Lobo when Lars and Finn had caught up with them. But he didn’t like El Lobo. He may even hate the man. Had he been forced into doing it? Blackmail? What could Zachary West possibly have on Angel that would make him go to such lengths to bring her back?
As if he knew what she was thinking, Angel drew his hand away from hers.
“It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’ll work this out.”
But instead of the smile she’d been expecting, he gave her a look of deadpan introspection, and murmured, “You should have left me to die, La Sombra.”
“He’s right,” Finn said.
She met Finn’s eyes in the rearview mirror, and he looked away a
s soon as their gazes met. Her stomach turned cold, and she gave Angel a brief, guilty look.
Would they believe her if she told them it had been the drugs? Nothing had made sense back there, by Javier’s villa. But some strange intuition had told her she needed Angel by her side. For now, at least.
Because he knows where El Lobo is.
The thought was a chilling one. So what if he knew? What was she supposed to do with that information? Storm the capo of Plata o Plomo’s headquarters and try to take him out? She would have laughed at the thought, if she didn’t feel so disheartened.
On the run. Again.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
There was silence as Finn and Lars exchanged a glance.
“Somewhere safe,” Lars said, just as Finn replied, “To get your father.”
The two men scowled at each other.
“My…my father?” Cora sat forward in a rush. “Where is he? How did you—?”
“I thought we discussed this,” Lars said through his teeth.
Finn slammed on the brakes. Lars caught himself against the dashboard, spots of red on his cheeks.
“Guys…” Cora murmured, reaching a hand to each.
“If you don’t want part of this, then get the fuck out and—” Finn began.
“There’s two of us, Milo.” Lars held up a hand and extended two fingers. “Dos. How many men do you think this guy’s going to have at the drop, hmm? Unless he only brings one fucking soldier, we’re outnumbered.”
“Four,” Cora said, her voice dripping ice. “We’re four.”
Lars threw her a condescending glance. “That’s cute. But no. We’re two.”
Cora twisted her mouth, and reached for the small of her back. But her Taurus wasn’t there anymore. She dropped her gaze, checking the cabin of the SUV.
“See? Dos.” Lars turned back to Finn. “You do the math.”
“Three,” came Angel’s voice.
Cora looked up at him. He held one hand cradled to his stomach, but his eyes burned with a fierce light. “I can help.”
Lars sighed. “Two and a half, and you know how overly optimistic I can be sometimes, Milo.”
“Where is my father?” Cora asked, trying to enunciate every word as carefully as she could.
“Don’t do that,” Finn said. “You sound like Javier.”
“At least he gets answers. Why the hell won’t you tell me—”
“Zachary West has him. He offered a trade for your father and the files.” Finn caught her eye in the rearview mirror. “The ones I assume that are on that necklace of yours?”
Necklace. Cora touched fingers to her breastbone, but nothing hung from her neck anymore. Of course—she’d taken it off on the ride. She dug in her pocket and drew out the chain, letting Santa Muerte sway from side to side. Light caught the pendant in a strange way, making it look as if there was a secret glint in those empty eye sockets.
“So you did have it,” Finn said.
“That thing?” Lars pulled a face. “That’s what everyone’s after?”
“Everyone?” Cora said. “Who?”
“Javier. Zachary. Probably other capos we don’t even know about.” Finn caught her eye in the mirror again. “You know what’s on there, don’t you?”
She shook her head, catching the pendant and laying it on her palm. “Something important. That’s all Papá said.”
“Papá was being a right dick,” Lars muttered. “Papá could have done a hundred more intelligent things with that info than giving it to you.”
“Lars,” Finn grumbled.
“What? Come on.”
“He said he couldn’t take it over the border,” Cora said, but whether in defense or not, she didn’t know.
“We’re dropping you off, and then we’ll go to the hangar to make the exchange.” Finn glanced across at Lars. “Are we in agreement?”
Lars shrugged. “Guess there’s no reason for everyone to die. We had a good run.”
She caught Finn rolling his eyes.
The pendant had warmed in her hand. She opened her fingers and stroked the side of Santa Muerte’s skull. Had she really seen the saint down there in the dark, when her breath had been almost gone? Her life flickering like the last quarter inch of a candle’s wick?
These men were willing to risk their lives—Lars grudgingly—for her father.
For her.
The least she could do was provide a distraction.
“No,” she said, sitting forward.
“No what?” Finn asked, but his attention was on the road, not on her.
“You’re not dropping us off. You’re not doing this alone.” She held the pendant tight in her hand. “All he wants is this information. He won’t hurt me. And he knows Angel. Angel…” she glanced across at the young man. He studied her with big, black eyes and a straight-lined mouth. “Angel’s going to take me to him. Just us. Like he kidnapped me.”
Finn barked a laugh the same time Lars pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a massive sigh. “That’s the worst idea I ever—” Lars began.
“You said we’d be outnumbered,” Cora said. “Let Angel have a gun. He takes me in, says he brought me by himself. I give Zachary the necklace, and I take Papá and leave.” She slipped the pendant over her neck and dusted her hands. “Easy as that.”
“God, you’re so fucking naive, it makes my balls ache,” Lars muttered. “Why would he let any of you live once he has the files?”
“We’re not a threat,” Cora said. “Papá—”
“He’ll definitely kill your father,” Finn said, and then added, “You have to understand that’s what’s going to happen, Cora. Why would he let the capo of a rival cartel—”
“Because my father isn’t part of the cartel anymore.” Cora straightened her spine, giving Finn and Lars as insistent a stare as she could.
“You just tap your heels and wrinkle your nose, and he’s not capo anymore?” Lars asked dryly. He turned in his seat, resting his chin on the back of his hand. “You a magical bunny?”
His sarcasm made her want to slap him again. But she quickly closed her twitching hand into a fist and tried to stare him down.
It would have helped if his eyes weren’t so damn intense.
She swallowed hard, squeezing the pendant.
Lars cocked an eyebrow at her, and Finn’s gaze flashed to the mirror.
“My father isn’t capo anymore,” Cora said. “I am.”
55
Utterly fucked off
It was quarter past five in the afternoon when they stopped at a small strip mall that looked as isolated as the few cars parked in the lot. Lars went inside the shop while Finn leaned forward in his seat, hands draped on the steering wheel, and began scouting for a new vehicle for them.
The inside of the car reeked of dust and sweat, despite everyone opening their windows. If there’d been time, he’d have found a motel or something where they could all take a shower and at least get something to eat.
But there wasn’t.
“Finn.”
He glanced back at Cora, then straightened again. It was easier to stay calm when he couldn’t see her bright eyes watching him so intently. “What?”
“Thank you.”
“For what?” Finn asked. “Pissing off Javier?”
Cora sat forward, just like she’d done that first night they’d met. When she’d been trying to engage him in some inane conversation. Curious about the scar on his neck.
That felt like a fucking lifetime ago.
“For agreeing to let me do this,” she murmured, soft and intently enough that the hackles on the back of his neck rose in a flurry.
He shifted in his seat, but didn’t look at her. He was supposed to be looking for a car they could steal. One that wouldn’t be too difficult to hot wire, and that wouldn’t draw attention.
Why the fuck was Lars taking so long?
“Fuck knows why you have this suicidal urge in you, all of a sudden,�
� he said. “Who am I to stand in the way of idiocy?”
“We’re going to make it through this.”
And then he did look at her, because her voice had changed timbre. Her eyes weren’t flickering and uneasy any more. Come to think of it, they hadn’t been that way for a while.
Since last night.
Jesus Christ, why’d he have to go and think of that? He shifted again, itching to be out of the car and away from her voice. “You stick to the plan,” he snapped. “You give him the docs, you grab your father, you get the fuck out of there.”
Cora grabbed him by the shoulder of his shirt, tugged him a little to the side. “Stop worrying. I’ll be fine.”
Her ears brushed his lobe when she spoke. He didn’t like that one fucking bit. Especially when his body began reacting to her like she was a drug and he was just some stoned junkie. He closed his eyes, hoping that would help. It didn’t. It just made it easier for his sick mind to superimpose an image of Cora, naked, on the back of his eyelids. Flickering, like one of those old projectors. She stood in front of him, legs splayed. The shape behind her stroking her until she moaned. Lars, a dutiful entertainer as always, putting Cora though the hoops for his one-man audience.
“Okay?” Cora whispered.
Reality bloomed when he forced his eyes open again. He turned his head, leaning back so he could focus on her face.
He grabbed the back of her head, crushed her mouth against his, and kissed her until they were both breathless. When he pulled back, reluctantly, she still had a fist twisted in his shirt and a dazed look on her face.
Then that fog cleared, and her gaze sharpened. “What was that?” she demanded.
He swiped his thumb over her lips. “That was me kissing you whenever the fuck I want.”
* * *
Lars slammed the car door, making everyone inside the car jump. Cora hurriedly sat back in her seat, crossing her arms over her chest and making a point of looking away from him.
She could pout all she wanted, he was still pissed at her.