Page 7 of Wicked Intention

This was a residential neighborhood, but the houses had no spaces between them. The only real way to tell where one ended, and the next began, was by the paint—orange next to pink next to red. There were bars on the windows, but she felt safer here than she had in the business district. The few people on the street paid her no attention.

One of the houses farther down the block was boarded up, and Zo headed toward it. The doorway was recessed deeply enough to hide her, and she settled inside. She needed to think.

The wordsroyally screwedpopped into her head. Yeah, that summed it up accurately. Zo pushed a hand through the top of her hair. It was damp with sweat, but she was lucky. She was used to running and had been able to keep going until she’d escaped.

Escape. Yeah. She was trapped in the country, and even with her plan, she wasn’t making it to Mexico tonight.

Taking a deep breath, she swung her backpack off her shoulders, rested it between her feet, and dug her phone from her jacket. First things first. She called Finn. Zo knew he was on a plane that was—she glanced at the time—at least a half an hour away from landing at LAX, but she didn’t relax until she rolled to voicemail. He’d ask questions if he answered, and she wouldn’t lie to him.

“Hey, it’s me. I ran into a couple of problems—nothing I can’t take care of—but I won’t be home tomorrow. I’ll call again when I have things firmed up and let you know when my flight will get in. Miss you.”

Zo disconnected. So she’d understated things. It didn’t count as being dishonest, and it wasn’t as if Finn could doanything from more than 3,500 miles away anyhow. He’d only worry. Or he’d decide to come down here.

While that was sweet, it was pointless. Even if he checked his messages the instant he landed and immediately booked himself on the next flight to Rio Blanco, it would be more than nine hours before Finn could get here. And that was without any delays at LAX. In that length of time, she’d be across the border and on her way home.

One call down, one more to go.

Squaring her shoulders, she navigated to her contacts and pressed the screen again. The job came with responsibilities. She didn’t have a clue how to get in touch with the woman in Mexico to whom she was supposed to give the disk, but she knew who did.

“Hello.”

That wasn’t how Archer normally answered, and it took Zo off guard. “It’s Zo, listen—”

“Code?”

She swallowed a growl. Never show the bastard a weakness because he’d use it later. For that same reason, Zo culled the profanity from her response and kept her voice bland. “There isn’t a code. I’m the one who told you the bat-phone needed a secret phrase. You raised your eyebrow and told me I watched too much television.”

“So I did. What can I do for you?”

The words were hard to say aloud. She was reliable—always. Plus, she needed to be careful in case someone was monitoring her line. Zo clasped the phone tighter. “I’m not going to make the appointment tomorrow, and I need you to cancel it. I’ll let you know when to reschedule.”

Silence. It lasted an instant too long, but when he spoke, he sounded nothing more than mildly curious. “Problem?”

“Nothing I can’t handle, but it’ll delay my arrival in Mexico by a few days.”

More silence. Archer was thinking, and it made Zo tenseeven further. Her boss was good at figuring things out with very little information. Too good. She could almost hear the gears turning in his brain as he ran scenarios.

Every muscle in her body was rigid by the time he asked, “If I wanted to call you in a couple of hours, would I be able to talk to you?”

“No.”

“I see.”

Yeah, he did. With a single word she’d let Archer know the situation was serious enough that she’d have to destroy her phone to prevent anyone from pinging the GPS and tracking her.

“Will you remain in Rio Blanco?”

Another seemingly innocent question that wasn’t. “No.”

“Once you reach your destination, stay there. Someone will be on his way to assist you.” It was an order, pure and simple.

Archer knew her well enough to guess she’d head to San Isidro. She hated that he could predict her. “I told you, I can handle it. I have a plan—” She stopped short and took a deep breath. Zo’s fingers hurt from digging into the phone, but it took a hell of a lot of self-control to pull back her temper. “Thank you, but there’s no need to send anyone.”

“Do you like your job, Zofia?” Archer spoke so silkily that it took a second for the threat to register.

“Yes.” The word was tight, but she was gritting her teeth.

“Then, you’ll be where I expect to find you when Special Forces arrive, won’t you?”

---