Page 19 of Mercenary
“Yes.” I wait for her to call me out for not telling her about Kylie. But she doesn’t.
“What did Kylie do?” It’s a rhetorical question, one Luciana can’t answer. One I’m totally, utterly unprepared to answer myself. My heart accelerates. I wish my legs would follow suit, then carry me as fast as possible out of this nightmare.
“Think. Before San Diego, back home. There must be something.”
“I wish I knew.”
Luciana places her hand on mine. “You need to keep running. Understand?”
I nod.
She shifts away, repositioning herself on the couch, and begins treating her injuries, doing what I should be doing except my hands are shaking too badly.
“Who did this? Please, tell me.”
“Trust me, it’s better if you don’t know. You’ll disappear, this time to a place where no one knows where you are. Not even me, in case he questions me . . .”
I don’t know whether to scream or cry. Is this my destiny, to find those people closest to me at risk, for me to keep running from something I don’t understand?
“Remember our bucket list. I’m still holding you to your promise. This time next year, we’ll meet in Rome. It’ll all work out. You’ll see.”
“Now who’s being overly optimistic?”
She waves a cotton swab toward the direction Diego has taken. “Go to bed, you need to sleep. There’s a second spare room, off to the right. Unless you feel like calming my brother down . . .”
“Jeez, you’re shameless, you know that. Sex is the last thing on my mind.” My familiar reprimand sounds hallow to my ears. As it often does, my thoughts immediately shift to another man and the phone number I’ve memorized by heart . . . in case of an emergency . . . I pull out my cell phone but it’s dead. “Can I use a phone?”
“It’s not a good idea.”
“But it is. There’s someone I know who’ll help me disappear.” He’s done it before, right?
“Diego will lose his shit if we call anyone. You need his help. Let him handle this.”
I bite my lower lip. By the time my stranger arrives . . . if he can be reached . . . if he’ll even come . . .
“Don’t worry. My brother excels at this sort of thing. It’s what he does.”
“He makes people disappear?”
Luciana stares at me for a few seconds without answering. “Will you forgive me?” she whispers, a slight quiver in her tone.
I study her, the closest person to family I have now, someone I don’t truly know at all.
Forgiveness. It like a present that’s been painstakingly wrapped. You hope the gift inside will merit the same response as the pretty paper packaging. That the recipient will understand its value and treasure its worth, without getting side-tracked by the colorful display on the outside of the box. No, I don’t give this gift lightly. But despite her deception, I do know what kind of person Luciana is—the kind who’d tear through the paper with both hands to claim the fig leaf I’m offering her inside.
She shifts on the sofa, and a flash of pain crosses her face. And it’s in that moment, I break.
“I forgive you. But no more lies, okay?”
“No more lies.” She looks at me. Really looks at me, like she’s memorizing every line on my face. “You look like your sister?” she asks softly, gently, and with a shake of her head. “Seems like I’m not the only one of us keeping secrets.”
5
Declan
Tracking them was simple. Far too many locals remembered the blond gringa and her beautiful companion waiting for the early bus to Loreto. A conspicuous pair, as subtle as lightning. I first hired the fisherman, who’d taken Madelyn’s money, then promptly sold her out. A sad ending for him, though. Hell has no use for his ill-gotten Benjamins.
In Loreto, I rented a car under the pseudonym Juan Rodrigo. Yeah, I could teach Madelyn a thing or two about blending in.
