Page 15

Ali.

At least, he was fairly certain it was Ali. She looked…different. Gone was the sensible, collegiate outfit. Gone was the sweet, almost shy smile. Gone were the sexy round glasses he had been thinking of all day.

The woman in front of him now was the most intimidating person he had ever seen.

She seemed taller somehow. Her jeans and shirt covered a lean, athletic build, her crimson-colored boots the only pop of color in her otherwise black outfit. The most shocking revelation was the patchwork of tattoos that covered both her arms, from wrist to sleeve.

Any softness that remained was in her lips, full and bottom heavy, pulling slightly down at the corners.

The rest of her exuded power.

Santiago’s heart kicked in his chest. Sprawled there frozen, he felt like a field mouse who had found himself under the shadow of an eagle.

“Wha—” Santiago started. But before he could voice his disbelief, Mario rose and tackled her. They rolled on the floor, a jumble of elbows and fists.

Mustache—Leo—ran across the room toward where Ali had kicked his gun. From the corner of his eye, Santiago watched him scramble on his hands and knees to retrieve it.

I can’t let him get to it, Santi realized. He jerked to his feet, terrified of what would happen if he actually did reach the gun first but uncertain how else to assist.

He propelled his body toward the weapon, half scrabbling and half lunging. Before his fingers could close around it, however, a hard shoulder shoved into him, knocking him off-balance. By the time he righted himself and swung back around, Leo was leveling the gun at his face.

Santiago’s body spasmed, jerking backward. He threw his arms over his face, though he knew it would do no good against bullets.

A loud crash had his eyes snapping open just in time to see Leo crumple to the ground, clutching his head. The ceramic vase Brooke had made him during her pottery phase lay in shattered pieces on the ground.

Then Ali was in front of him again, dragging him across the room. A mighty boom rang out, and Santiago felt splinters of drywall explode through the space his body had just inhabited.

Holy fucking shit!

In a single, fluid motion, Ali flipped his heavy dining room table, and they dove behind it. No sooner had she crouched behind the thick wood next to him than gunshots cracked through the air. Santiago covered his head with his arms, as if that would help.

“I can’t believe you stood me up!” Ali said, pulling her own gun from the small of her back. Santiago flinched away from her. “That was rude.”

“What? No, I wouldn’t—” he started, shocked enough to answer her despite the chaos erupting around them. He didn’t have the time or energy to explain that he’d learned of his grandfather’s passing just that evening—that he would never have missed a date with her otherwise.

More importantly, her words verified that the leather-clad Valkyrie before him was in fact the woman he met at the museum hours prior. Although the confirmation only served to confuse him further.

“How, what?” Santiago said, but before he could spin his words into a coherent sentence, Ali leaned around the table to fire a few quick rounds of her own, ducking back as gunfire blasted in their direction. Santiago cried out again and recoiled as bullets flew around him, embedding themselves into the thick wood of his mother’s beloved antique dining table, as well as his landlord’s cheap walls.

Ali continued to return fire.

“Did you follow me home?” Santiago demanded as soon as she spun back behind the meager safety of his dining table. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that wasn’t the most pressing question, but it was the only one he could manage to voice.

“Something like that,” Ali replied, turning back to him. From the inner pocket of her jacket, she pulled out an item that looked a lot like an explosive. “Ready?” she asked, pulling the pin and grinning wildly as she tossed it into his living room.

“Is that a grenade?” Santiago shrieked, right before a loud blast filled the space. Smoke poured through the room, and he could hear the two men coughing furiously somewhere behind them. Ali grabbed him by the arm once more and pulled him into the hallway.

“Smoke bomb,” she clarified.

More gunfire rang out in the confusion of the haze, startling Santiago, who tripped and caught himself against the wall. A strong hand grasped the back of his shirt, and he was hauled into the bedroom. Ali kicked the door shut and quickly shoved her shoulder against his cabinet. It wobbled precariously.

“Passport,” she grunted as she pushed again, and the cabinet crashed down in front of the door.

“What?” Santiago gasped.

“Passport!” she repeated. “Your passport, Rios—tell me it’s in here!”

Santiago couldn’t be more confused in that moment if he tried, but his body obeyed, crossing to his bedside table and fishing out the little blue booklet. Ali grabbed it from his hands and shoved him into the connecting bathroom.