Ramon wasn’t going to deny it. “I haven’t contacted her yet, and I’m not going to.”
Of course, he would eventually. He didn’t work for them. His loyalty had Kenna as a filter. At least, until he trusted himself to see the truth in people.
He’d been wrong before—so wrong. But he didn’t want to be wrong about these guys.
So he lied. “She and I have parted ways. I don’t work for her anymore. Otherwise, I’d be wherever she is, pitching in with the case she’s working.”
Their boss had been revealed to be the one turncoat working for their enemy, so he figured he was good with the rest. They were most likely trustworthy.
But he was still going to watch his own back.
Ramon reached over and grabbed the parachute from Hollace’s hands. “Now explain this.”
Ten minutes later, he was sailing through the air because Hollace, laughing, pushed Ramon out of the plane.
Ice-cold wind whipped at his face and clothing. He tried to remember what Bear had said, but it really amounted to “Pull the cord.”
That, and “It’s not the fall that will kill you. It’s the sudden stop.”
Ramon counted in his head and, as they’d instructed, waited until the right moment to pull the chute free.
His entire body jerked back up in the air, the parachute caught the wind, and he descended much slower.
He held the toggles and looked around at the others, dropping silently in the night sky. “I hate all of you guys.”
Of course, there was no way they would hear him. That wasn’t the point.
He steered the chute in a straight line, and when he neared the ground, he pulled both toggles down to flare the parachute. The action pulled the back of the chute down and allowed him to touch down.
Going too far too fast.
His knees came up quick, and he fell awkwardly to the side, mostly on purpose. All around him, the guys landed on both feet like freaking gymnasts.
Hollace bundled his chute up and stuffed it back in the pack so they wouldn’t leave anything behind to let anyone know they had been here. He came over while Ramon was rolling his and helped him repack it. “Not bad for a first time.”
Ramon matched the guy’s volume when he replied, “I’m never doing that again.”
Hollace’s teeth flashed in the dark. Not quite a laugh, but Ramon got the idea. The other man slapped him on the arm with the back of his hand. “Come on.”
Ramon jogged after them, and the group moved as a unit through the shadows off this ridge, which turned out to be a rolling green hill. Not that he could see the color in the gray night, but they were running on grass that muted their footsteps.
Bear wound up beside Ramon, probably so he could keep an eye on him. Or make sure Ramon didn’t shoot any of these guys in the back.
The lead operator reached a barn that had been constructed with what looked like cobblestones. A huge wooden wheel leaned against the doors.
They all crept around the back, hopped a four-foot brick wall, and traversed two fields—one with sheep and the other with cows in it. Ramon tried not to think about what he was stepping in and kept up the punishing pace these guys set. He’d never been in the military. There wasn’t much call for exercise while working for a Mexican cartel, at least not the traditional strength training and cardio most people did. He should probably start working out on a regular basis.
Ramon glanced at an oak tree they passed, craning his neck.
Bear grabbed his shoulder and dragged him into a crouch. He whistled at the same time. Everyone in the party crouched immediately, with nearly no sound.
Ramon whispered, “What is it?”
Bear flicked on a tiny light and shone it above them, in the tree. Hanging down from the branches under the canopy were strings of something that glinted in the light. It looked like decorations of some kind, crystals or glass.
Ramon stood slowly and reached for one. At the same time, the crystal burned and felt cold to the touch. He let go too quickly, the pads of his fingers sliding across the tacky surface. He hissed and dropped back into his crouch.
Bear shone his light on Ramon’s fingers, now wet with blood and too many cuts. Pain echoed through Ramon’s mind more than his fingers, which seemed almost numb. Or as if the nerve endings couldn’t tell what had happened. His hand looked like he’d tried to catch a bunch of razor blades thrown at him.
