Page 701 of One More Kiss

Chapter12

After a clumpof gauze is roughly stuck to my shoulder with tape, Shane manhandles me into the passenger seat of a glossy SUV. He turns on the radio and controls the volume from the steering wheel, making sure it is high enough to drown out the possibility of any conversation.

I don’t mind. I’m not in the mood to talk, anyway. For the first couple of hours, I drift in and out of consciousness. In the moments I’m awake, I watch the world whizz past the window like a blurry television screen, and when sleep takes over, I wrongly relive the sexual snare Tomás trapped me with.

Asshole.

Even if I meet him thousands of years from now, it would still be too soon.

We stop off at a gas station to refuel. From the passenger seat of the SUV, I study Shane through the tinted glass, wondering why he’d saved me. It doesn't add up. He'd lied to Tomás and Elias—for me. A girl he doesn’t know.

I thought about running while he paid for the fuel, but my gut told me to stay seated and get answers.

When he jumps into the driver's seat, he tosses a bottle of water at me and a massive bag of potato chips. It isn’t exactly nourishment, but the saltiness helps to perk me up a bit.

The rest of the ride is accompanied by the sultry voice of Chris Stapleton and the not so harmonious tone of Shane’s backup vocals. We’ve been on the road for hours now. I subconsciously feel the car slow to a halt and reluctantly bring my awareness back to my stark reality, city lights, and the sign for Bogotá.

Seething fury still ripples in an undercurrent of unanswered questions. “Why are you doing this?” I finally ask. “Why did you pretend I was dead?”

Shane keeps his green gaze fixed on the windshield and his hands on the wheel. “If I ever find out you really were a threat to my family, I’ll kill you myself. Understood?”

“Family?” My forehead scrunches. “You’re Irish.”

“Tommy, your hero for whatever reason, is my cousin.”

“Hero?” I scoff. “Are we talking about the same gangster who shot me?”

He shakes his head and chuckles. “Shot you. Christ, that’s only a scratch, kid. Next to his brother Gio, Tommy has sniper precision. He never misses or wastes a slug.”

“I don’t understand.” My face pales, shell-shocked by Shane’s testimony.

“All you need to know is that you’re alive.” He sighs. “Because of Tommy.”

Shane reaches across my thighs and pops open the glove compartment. Inside there’s a gun, a plastic pouch, a packet of smokes and a clear bag of grass. “Take that. It’s yours.” He points to the fat pouch.

I wince into the movement and retrieve it using my good arm. It’s not sealed, making it easy to see crisp, unused notes tucked neatly inside.

“What’s this for?” I wave it at him.

Shane shrugs as he taps out a cigarette and lights it. “Money to get home. Money to spend on clothes. Money for food. Money for whatever the fuck you need.”

“Eh, there’s too much in here.” I cast my eyes to the stack and back to Shane, unsure if I should take it. “I’m grateful, but…”

“It’s not from me, kid.” Smoke fills the front of the SUV when he speaks. “As per Tommy’s request, before Elias caught you sneaking around, I had to transport you to Bogotá and give you the cash. All of it.”

I swallow the tight lump stuck in my throat. “Why didn’t he kill me?”

Shane sucks hard on the tip and inhales. “I’ve no idea. You’re a phenomenon from where I’m sitting. Uninvited strangers never leave the plantation. No one has ever been in your shoes. Now hurry the fuck up and get out. I need to get home.”

“You live in Bogotá?”

He smirks. “We live everywhere. The Souza’s run this city––they rule Colombia.”

Once my seatbelt is unclipped and I open the door into the bustling city street, Shane seizes my wrist to stop me from exiting the vehicle.

“I'd like to think Tommy wasn't played by his archenemy. You seem sweet and genuine, a lot like my sister. But even pretty, young things can lie.” His fingers fall away. “He’s got photos of you in his bed, which, in simple terms, means you’re associated with Tomás Souza. You’ve become the enemy of his enemy, and every other cartel rival out there. Stay out of trouble or the next bullet won’t miss. Nor will the bullets fired at your parents. That’s not my threat, kid. It’s his.”

I nod curtly, fist the cash, and climb out of the SUV to the sidewalk.

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