Page 21 of Secrets Beneath the Waves
Zeyla shifted in the seat and peered at the side mirror. “Cops?”
“No antennae on the top.” Most unmarked police cars had their radio antennae on the roof, making it kind of obvious they had a radio setup in their car. “Blue wannabe SUV, a couple of cars back.”
“You think it’s your buddy Miguel?”
“Let’s see what happens.” Ramon switched lanes and took the next exit. The blue vehicle followed them down the off-ramp, hanging back. He wasn’t going to provoke Miguel into actionjust by pushing the situation. Miguel wasn’t the kind of guy who would react because he got all riled up. Or, at least, he shouldn’t be.
That type of guy made a lousy contract killer.
Zeyla pulled out her phone. “If you can let him get close enough behind us for long enough, I could clone his phone. Then we can see who he has been talking to.”
“That would be great.” And yet, his tone likely told her all she needed to know. The fact was, he would be putting Zeyla at risk if they were too close to Miguel. The killer wouldn’t waste even that chance to try and take her out.
So not worth the risk.
“If we know who hired him, we’ll have a shot at finding the Count of Shadows.”
“I’d love to know who hired him, but he isn’t going to tell us. And whatever we do to find out, we have to make sure it doesn’t risk both of our lives.” Ramon turned the corner at the end of the off-ramp and headed for an industrial complex.
Between them, they probably had enough firepower to take out Miguel several times over. But putting that up against whatever the guy had planned presented plenty of risk. Not worth taking the chance.
Zeyla shifted in her seat, still keeping an eye on the vehicle, now only one car behind them. “I didn’t peg you for the overly cautious type.”
“I’m growing.”
She chuckled. “Ramon the renegade? No-holds-barred vigilantism that strikes fear in the hearts of goody-two-shoes everywhere.”
It was his turn to laugh—almost. “Did you just make that up?”
“I’ve been mulling it over.”
“In your spare time?” He turned into the industrial complex—a maze of parking lots, company buildings, a strip mall of restaurants that were probably overflowing on Friday after work. Right now, the parking lots were mostly empty, and the crowds had shifted from the chicken place and the Mexican joint beside it to the bar at the end of the row with a rooftop and live music currently entertaining the crowd.
“You’re different from Bruce or Stairns or Jax. You’re…edgy.”
“Is that a good thing?” He glanced at her, then back at the rearview so he could keep an eye on their tail.
“I have no idea, but I decided I’d think about it because people say that about me.” Zeyla lifted one hand, then let it fall back to her lap. “Like I can’t just have strong boundaries. It has to be that I’m abrasive andhard to work with.”
“Doesn’t play well with others?”
Zeyla shook her head. “The way I grew up? You have no idea.”
He figured it wasn’t too far from the Marvel character Black Widow, who had been trained by a terrible group with exacting standards, who wanted their women to be a combination of assassins and master spies. More than that, he hadn’t asked, and she probably wouldn’t want to go into specifics.
Ramon took a sharp right turn and sped up, immediately turning right again. He wound up in an alley and pulled the car just past a dumpster. Tucking them, hopefully, out of sight.
“You’re no fun, you know that?”
Ramon watched his side mirror for the blue car and saw it speed past them. He pulled out and hooked a right at the end of the alley. “If there’s going to be a confrontation, it’ll be on my terms.”
Probably not when she was around, and definitely not at a place that he didn’t predetermine.
Whoever had been following them was out of the picture now. “Where to?”
“My motel. I need to sleep.”
He nodded. “I’ll drop you, and we can reconvene tomorrow.”
