Ten minutes later, we’re in a ruddy brown pick-up heading for the outskirts of Caracas. Once I unlock my phone, I toss it to her. “Find Leo’s number and put it on speaker.”
“This better be a goddamn emergency,” he slurs when the call connects.
“Sober up, asshole. Someone just tried to kidnap Dani. We’re on the move. I need somewhere safe for us to hole up for a few hours. I won’t make it to Puerto Cabello without sleep.”
“I’m not drunk,” he mutters, then rattles off an address. “You bring the National Police to my doorstep, and I’ll kill you myself.”
“Fuck you too,” I say and then nod at Dani to end the call. Before I can open my mouth again, she’s entering the address into the GPS.
“Make a left at the next stoplight.” I do, and she pulls her knees up to her chest. “Are you sure you can trust Leo?”
“As sure as I am about anything right now.”
“That’s not an answer.” Clutching the phone in one hand, she uses the other to hug herself tightly. The uncertainty in her voice leaves me completely off balance—or maybe that’s just the epinephrine shot wearing off. Or both.
“I know. We’ll be back in the States in eighteen hours, and then we’ll be safe.”
“And what about Luis Rojas? He won’t be safe.” With a quick glance at the phone, she adds, “Take the next right and then keep going for another six kilometers.”
“There’s enough on the tape from the interview for me to contact my former handler. Taking down the Loma Collectivo would make his entire career.” Bitterness creeps into my tone, and I shake my head. Big mistake. Pain lances through my temple, and I wince.
“What’s wrong?” Dani scoots closer on the bench seat and touches my arm.
“I’m fine, baby. It’s just the epi wearing off.” I realize my mistake as soon as the words escape my lips. Her eyes widen, and I shift my grip on the steering wheel so I can take her hand. “Someone drugged the water in my fridge—yours too, probably. They were careful. Must have come in through the window or the air vents, because my tripwires were all in place over the doors when we got back. Luckily, I didn’t drink much of it. But when you screamed and I woke up, I knew. Gave myself a shot of adrenaline.”
“Oh, God.” She pulls her hand from mine and shrinks against the seat. As if the memories of the attack are finally registering, she starts to shake. “You…killed them.”
I can’t apologize for shooting those bastards. I won’t. I kept her safe. Alive. But the horror in her voice…if I’ve lost her…
“I’d do it again,” I say quietly and ease the phone from her hand to check the GPS. Only another two kilometers, and we can both rest. There’s no one else on the road with us right now, so at least I know we’re not being followed. “Nothing matters to me but you, Dani.”
We don’t speak again until we reach a little house in a quiet neighborhood on the west side of Caracas. Leo’s sitting on his front steps and pushes to his feet when the truck starts to slow. He directs me to pull between his house and the neighbor’s, then park in a tiny backyard full of dead grass.
I almost fall when I get out of the truck. My head pounds and my legs feel like they’re about to give out, but I force myself to keep moving and grab our bags, then head around for Dani. She’s unsteady on her feet as well, but she doesn’t protest when I wrap my arm around her.
“I set you up in the basement,” Leo says as he leads us inside. “Water, protein bars, a full med-kit, blankets, and an air mattress.”
Just past the kitchen, he kicks a rug to the side to reveal a trap door. I reach down and pop the metal hasp, then raise the wood panel. A set of stairs leads to a brightly lit space that clearly doubles as his communications center. A laptop, widescreen monitor, and weapons locker line one wall. In the opposite corner, there’s a small bathroom, and Dani makes a beeline for it, not saying a word to me.
“You aren’t here,” he says as he takes the last two steps with a grunt and then heads for the laptop. “If you need to contact your people, you can use my setup, but make goddamn sure you’re masking your signal.”
After writing down a fifteen digit password, he presses the paper into my hand. When I meet his gaze, I realize he was telling the truth. He’s sober.
“Thanks, man.” I stop him when he starts to turn away. “Leo, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions. I owe you for this one.”
“I made it pretty damn easy for you.” With a lopsided grin, he shrugs. “I’m getting the hell out of here, Trevor. Two weeks. Maybe less. I’m too old for this shit, and the chances of Ochoanotputting the pieces together and tracking me down eventually are slim to none. So you owe me nothing. Just get the fuck out of here and back to the States safely and we’ll call it even.”
He claps me on the shoulder once, then limps back up the steps and shuts the trapdoor.
* * *
Dani
In the tiny bathroom, I take one of the hand towels and start scrubbing my face as hard as I can. I want the memory of the blood and bits of—oh, God, is that brain matter?—off my skin.
Trevor knocks softly. “Dani? Are you all right?”
I scrub harder. “Yes. I’ll be out in a minute.”
