The men hesitate, exchanging glances.
"Now," Graves adds, her tone brooking no argument.
The soldiers reluctantly lower their rifles and back away, disappearing into the chaos still trying to be extinguished.
"Walker Cole," Isla says once they're alone, testing the name on her tongue. "I thought he was dead."
“People thought the same about me. We’re not easy to kill. He's helping the girl. And you're letting them slip away by keeping me from chasing them."
"You had a whole country in which to find them, and you failed," she states, her tone flat.
Logan’s fists clench at his sides. "I didn’t know someone like me was helping her. That changes everything."
“Someone better than you?” Graves says with a raised eyebrow.
Logan grits his teeth. “Not better.”
“Well, he seems to keep outwitting you.”
“I could have already had them. I would have blocked these tunnels if I had known about them so he wouldn’t have been able to escape. Where do they go? What is this place?”
Graves assesses him coolly for a moment. “This country is addicted to violence. Getting high. Sex. We simply provide that while being able to track who and where it happens. A lot of useful information is gathered and possible threats tracked and solved before they grow into bigger problems.”
Logan’s eyes narrow. “You traffic people?”
“We did. We paused when Ms. Barrett made her discovery. We were just transporting weapons and drugs.” Graves looks outside at the wreckage. “We’ll have to put that on hold as well now.”
“Then get these men out of my way. I’ll have them within a couple of days.”
Graves looks Logan up and down. “I can’t risk having you in Mexico."
Logan stalks toward her. Graves doesn’t flinch. “Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I’ll kill all your soldiers and go through that tunnel anyway.”
“And then what? You get your revenge…” Graves moves closer, looking up at Logan but not at all intimidated by him or his size. “But I’ll cut you loose. No more missions. No more sanctioned killing. You’ll have to run and hide.” Logan just glares at her. Graves smiles. "I know what you are, Logan. You need the violence. It’s your medium. And you can’t practice your art in the way you want to without. Me."
Logan’s voice is low and lethal. "I want Walker. And if you want the girl, you need me. This is only a taste of what he’s capable of. If you think these men can capture them, you’re mistaken. He will chew through whatever you send his way.”
Graves smoothly raises an eyebrow. “Unless I send you?”
“I’m the only one who can.”
Graves scoffs and shakes her head. "Here, we just control a town," she explains coldly. "There? The cartel controls an army."
“It’s going to take one to stop him.”
“We’ll see,” Graves says dismissively. “Get this place cleaned up,” she orders the men outside. She levels Logan with a glare. “And then clear out anyone who doesn’t belong here.”
Twenty-Four
Iwake before the sun rises, but I’m relaxed. No nightmares. My dreams were pleasant. But not as lovely as the dream I wake up next to.
Naomi sleeps beside me, her dark hair spilling across the pillow. Her breathing is deep and even. She looks even younger in her sleep, her face calm and free from worry. Which only makes me feel older and guiltier about having her last night. But it doesn’t stop me from watching the gentle rise and fall of her chest or tracing the curve of her shoulder with my eyes where the sheet has slipped down.
I should wake her and tell her I'm stepping out; in case she stirs as well. But she needs rest more, so I’ll risk not being here when she does.
The morning air hits my face as I slip outside, salty and warm. The little fishing village is already stirring: older men mending nets, young men preparing boats. Here, it’s tough to be a ghost. Here, we stick out. But American money is welcome, which is enough to make people less curious.
At the panadería, I buy fresh pan dulce. The coffee comes from a small hut where an ancient woman with handslike twisted roots pours it thick and black into a thermos. Another stall sells masa, corn husks, and everything else I need for tamales.
