She nodded.
The man grabbed her. “Well, we could have a little fun of our own while we’re waiting.” He ran a hand down her arm.
She brushed him off, and as she did, Manuela and David hurried past. Relief filled her. “Maybe some other time. He gave me some errands to run and I don’t want to be punished.” She showed him her bruise. “But I’ll be as fast as I can.” She winked, blew him a kiss and hurried away, resisting every urge to sprint.
At the entrance of the hostel Zita checked if she was being followed. She wasn’t. David pulled the car up and she jumped in the front seat. Manuela was lying on the back seat and she was no longer sobbing.
“Niñita, everything is going to be all right,” she said. “We’re going to get your Mama now.”
Manuela nodded silently, tears streaming down her face.
Zita turned back to David. “Turn here.” He did as she asked, and the laundry was ahead of them. The same guy was sitting on the step out the front. “Pull up there.” She pointed to the curb. “I’ll get Johanna.”
“Be careful.”
“I will be.” Walking across the street, she breathed deeply and evenly to control her fear. They just needed to get Johanna and then they’d go home.
Johanna was serving a customer as Zita entered. There was a different man sitting on the crate out the back. The customer left.
“Johanna,” Zita said. “Come and see this cute puppy outside.”
Johanna’s eyes widened when she saw Zita.
Zita smiled and gestured. “Quickly, you don’t want to miss it.”
Johanna hurried to the door and Zita followed her out. “The white car across the road,” she whispered in her ear. “Manuela’s in it. Go, get in.”
With a shriek, Johanna raced across the road. The guy on the step yelled and stood. Zita shoved him and ran to the car as Johanna got in. David had the door open for her. She slid in and slammed the door behind her, her heart pounding. “Drive.”
David hit the accelerator as gunshots rang out. The back window smashed.
“Get down,” she yelled, as David swore.
Another couple of bullets hit the car before they sped around the corner and out of sight.
“Is everyone all right?” she called in Spanish.
“Sí,” Johanna replied, sitting up.
She turned to David and saw that the sleeve of his shirt was red with blood. Her heart stopped. “Feck.You’ve been shot.” She slapped her hand over his wound.
He gritted his teeth and his hands were white on the steering wheel. “Caught some glass or something. Stings like a mother—”
“Pass me my backpack,” she ordered Johanna. Both mother and daughter were clinging to each other, crying. “Now, Johanna!”
Johanna passed her the backpack.
“Before you do anything, does someone want to tell me which way to go?” David asked.
Zita couldn’t remember. She translated and got the directions from Johanna as she ripped her skirt into strips. She pressed one bandage to the wound and David swore.
“Don’t be a baby,” she said, praying it was only a superficial cut. “Slow down,” she said. “We don’t want to get picked up for speeding.”
He did as she said and she took the cloth away from the wound. It was a deep abrasion, like a bullet had grazed his skin. Her heart rate slowed. Taking another strip of cloth, she wound it around his arm. “We’ll clean it when we get to the airport.”
“Grab my phone and call Captain Johnson. Tell her we’re on our way. We want to leave as soon as possible.”
Zita dialed the number and organized the flight. Then she sat back, put her seatbelt on, and her heart rate came down to normal. They weren’t being followed. She breathed in and out. The draft from the broken window was quite cool. “I don’t think you’re going to get your deposit back,” she said.
