Page 79 of Hit Man
He saved me. That’s what happened.
Only I didn’t realize it until now.
I don’t have anyone to turn to. Zoey is unreachable, her cell phone has now been disconnected. Maxwell is untrustworthy. Diego clearly wants nothing more to do with me.
There is Señora del Leon’s invitation to tea at Hacienda Santo Miguel . . . No. Desperate or not, I’d feel awful showing up looking like I’ve come out on the losing side of some street fight.
Dust and mud cover my shorts and T-shirt.
There’s a scratch on my arm, my sole injury from our fall.
I’m tired. Feeling lost. Alone. So distraught I can’t seem to do anything except cry. It’s the adrenaline, that’s all. An overload of emotions you need to work through before you can carry on as normal.
An engine starts behind me.
Which fosters a new wave of tears. He’s going to leave me. He’s going to leave me here . . .
The Harley shoots by, barely drivable, its front end a mangled mess. Still I watch him thunder off, expertly maneuvering it around piles of garbage and potholes, an abandoned car, and a steel drum someone’s using as a barbecue.
Watching him . . . leave me.
God, this shouldn’t hurt so much. I don’t even like him.
I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands.Get a grip, Aubrey. You’re resourceful. You escaped those men. You’ll just have to find a way to a hotel. Clean up. Quiet your mind before you decide what to do.
My options are this: I can make a quick phone call to the embassy and see what they can do about issuing me a passport without my being present. I’ll explain my situation and the duress I’m under. There must be some kind of policy in place for situations like this. And hopefully with a new passport in hand, I’ll catch the first flight out of here.Hasta luego, Mexico City. Or . . . stay. Hang low until things die down. It’s unclear how far Juan Carlos’s influence goes. There are so many players and pieces in the air that I don’t know about, and it’s driving me crazy. If his criminal network is anything like his house parties, Juan Carlos has some serious connections and money. Money that can easily bribe the police, the border-patrol guards, hell, even the damn gate agents at the airport. That leaves me with one real choice. Relocate, regroup, and try to stay alive until I can come up with a better plan.
I blink away my tears, my mind calming. Searching for a sign, another bouquet of flowers after another horrible day, that all will be well.
I lift my chin.
Diego slows, red taillights shining bright.
And he waves.
24
Diego
I’m no McDuff.
The Irishman would have passed Aubrey a four-leaf clover for luck rather than sent her on her merry way. Hell, I’m not any of the ruthless, calculating assholes who work for TORC.
What I am is theidiotawho brought a civilian home. Exposing his cover. Exposing himself.
And once Hayden finds out, I’m a dead man.
“Your apartment is beautiful. Not what I . . . expected . . .” she says in the way of a greeting as I tread barefoot back into the living space of the penthouse apartment, clean and smelling like expensive soap.
Aubrey’s decided to trust me, though it’s not like I’ve given her a choice after taking her somewhere safe, a goddamn TORC safe house.
This place is beautiful, ultramodern with a classy air about it. It’s the nicest of any of the TORC safe houses and, as previously negotiated, for my exclusive use while on assignment. My revised definition of “slumming it.” Seems I got a penchant for going from one extreme to another.
“It’s temporary.”Just like your stay in Mexico City.
I have to get rid of her. I can’t have her settling into this TORC safe house while I track down my target. Jesus, I should just put a bullet in my own head and end things right now.
Her back is to me as she stares out the floor-to-ceiling window, one of a series of connecting windows that make up the exterior wall overlooking the city.
