“For fuck’s sake,” Leo snaps. “This is a public event. Dominaworksfor the vice president.”
“She is a suspect in the attempted assassination—”
“You’re working with outdated info, man. Or don’t you listen to the news? She wasn’t fired and she had nothing to do with the incident at the rally. Check your security briefing.”
I pull my staff ID from my pocket, then show the man the text message Manuel sent me an hour ago.
Manuel Cortez: I gave your names to my security detail. If you have any trouble, show them this message and the codeword: corazón.
The agent clicks the button on his radio and speaks in rapid Spanish. “The speechwriter, Domina Sanchez, is here. With that American the Ministry detained after the rally. What do you want me to do with them?”
“Do with us?” Leo asks. “We have the damn passphrase. You’re going to leave us the hell alone and get back to doing your job.”
The man touches his ear, which prompts Austin to mutter, “Amateur,” over comms.
On the television screens, Manuel wraps up his speech. “Those who seek to destroy us will never win because we have truth, compassion, and honor on our side! With your support, tomorrow night, I will address you as your president! For Panama! For the people! For us all!”
The IPS agent says something, but his words are lost to the thunderous applause surrounding us.
“Eight o’clock,” Austin hisses. “Gustavo Bernal from the Muñoz campaign.”
Leo takes my arm and turns, no longer caring about the armed and very angry man in front of us. There are too many people. Too close. I cannot see a thing other than Leo’s light blue shirt as I press myself to his side.
Men and women shove at us, desperate to get closer to the balcony where Manuel will wave and pose for photos. Members of the press elbow the public out of the way, and one tries to force us apart until Leo grabs him by the knot on his tie. “Get the fuck out of my way, asshole,” he grits out, and the photographer seems to deflate before my eyes.
But as soon as he fades into the sea of people, we cannot do much more than move a few steps in any direction.
“Jimmy, you better be close,” Leo mutters. “We’re about to be fucked here.”
Over comms, Austin’s smooth voice carries a harsh edge. “Stuck behind half a dozen reporters. Stick close to Diana and prepare for exfil. I’ve got a bad feeling about this whole circus.”
Leo frames my face with his hands. For a brief moment, we are the only two people in the room. “We have five minutes until Cortez does his thing on the balcony. We’ll get as close to the kitchens as we can before then. Keep your head down. Stay right behind me, and don’t let go of my hand. Got it?”
I nod, the worry in Leo’s tone frightening me. If anyone goes after Manuel, how will we stop them with this many people around us?
“It’s a shit show out here,” Trevor says. “Two, maybe three hundred people blocking the front door. Zephyr’s tapped into my scope, running facial recognition. So far, no one suspicious. What I wouldn’t give to be able to eavesdrop on the IPS radio frequency…”
Every step is a struggle. More than once, someone tries to force their way between us, but Leo holds on so tightly, I worry he will crush my hand. A foot slams into my toes. Teetering on my heel, I grab for Leo’s belt.
My ankle buckles, pain zinging up my calf. My fingers only graze the leather.
An arm snakes around my waist. I’m jerked backward so fast, Leo cannot hold on. He spins—right into a large man in a dark gray suit. In the space of a heartbeat, we’re forced apart. Half a dozen people fill the space between us.
A scream dies in my throat as something sharp jabs my ribs. “Not a sound, bitch.”
I know that voice. “Pinzon,” I whisper. “No…”
In my ear, Leo’s frantic voice calls, “Diana! Diana! Fuck it. Domina, answer me! Jimmy, do you have eyes on her?”
A hand wraps around the back of my neck, squeezing hard enough I cry out. Dark spots swim in front of my eyes. Everything around me fades to a dull roar. Faces pass in a blur. My left ankle throbs, but are my feet even touching the ground?
Leo…where are you?
I try to call out, but my voice fails. Sunlight blinds me. The stench of exhaust fills my nose.
“Check her,” someone says sharply.
My lids are so heavy. The pressure on my neck lifts, and then I’m falling. I land on something hard. An engine vibrates underneath me.
