The sound of rustling leaves came from opposite where I hid. Tanner didn’t even wait to see what the attacker would do. He darted from the ground and dived into the coverage of the trees. I froze, eyes wide as I heard the sound of fighting. I tried to follow the brief flashes of arms and legs, until two bodies came barreling from the bushes. I blinked, trying to focus. Tanner was holding the attacker in his grip, a knife pressed to the man’s throat. The attacker flailed, trying to get away, but Tanner held him tightly in his strong arms.
“Tell me who the fuck you work for.” He yanked the attacker’s head up by his hair.
The attacker smiled in defiance, his teeth stained with blood. It only infuriated Tanner more. Taking the knife, he stabbed it into the attacker’s shoulder. The man paled. Tanner pulled the knife out, put his mouth to the man’s ear, and repeated, “Tell me who the fuck you work for.”
Noticing a pin on the attacker’s suit, I stepped out of the trees. The man’s mouth curled in disgust as he saw me. I walked to him and met his eyes. I flicked my gaze to Tanner to see a surprised expression flash across his face. “Valdez,” I said and ripped the pin from his suit. I held it out to Tanner, showing him the emblem that I knew all too well. “He works for Valdez.” Valdez was my father’s biggest opponent. I wasn’t surprised this was all due to him.
“You fucking bitch!” the attacker snarled. “You’re gonna die. The Quintana family will all die—”
Before he could even finish the threat, Tanner sliced the knife across his throat. Blood poured from the wound. I watched him die with a detached fascination. I had grown up with threats and death and blood as part of my life. The sight of death didn’t haunt me at night. These days, it barely inspired any reaction in me at all.
When the man dropped to his knees, Tanner used his heavy boot to kick his back and send him sprawling across the floor while his body drained of blood.
“You understood what he said?” I asked. Of course, the man had spoken in Spanish. Tanner shook his head. I frowned. “Then why—”
“I didn’t like his motherfucking tone.” Tanner only held my questioning gaze for a moment before he ducked his head and stepped away from me. “We have to move.”
But as I followed him up the hill, toward the safe house, all I could think about was why he had chosen to kill the man then. Why, when he had spoken to me so badly, had Tanner cut off his words? Tanner hated me. Hated Mexicans, hated my family. Why would he care if someone talked badly of us?
I didn’t like his motherfucking tone.
I’d seen Tanner’s face as he’d glared at the man. I’d seen him snarl as the man spat his vitriol at me. I’d seen his muscles cord in his neck at the aggression shown toward me . . . and I had seen that flash of rage in his ice-blue eyes. In the blanket of the moon’s blue glow, I had seen Tanner kill in anger . . . and it seemed as though he was pissed at the way the attacker had threatened me.
We walked the remaining mile in silence. But Tanner stayed close, and although he didn’t take my hand again, he kept looking back at me. His hands would ball into fists then relax, only to do it again. His shoulders were tense, and the wounded arm was dropped, as if the pain was getting worse. I couldn’t make out much of his injury in this darkness, but I knew it was bad. The gun was slung over his chest, ready to use at a moment’s notice.
I replayed how he’d killed the attacker. How the man had submitted so easily. It was no longer surprising to me that Tanner Ayers was the heir to the Ku Klux Klan. And I knew that in years to come, when he took over, anyone they deemed inferior was not going to be safe.
Tanner pushed through the thick foliage. He stopped dead, and I realized we’d reached the safe house. I followed him as he quietly searched for the door with his hands. It was pitch black, and the house was completely hidden from view of anyone in the forest, on the road. My father’s safe houses were always like that. Impenetrable. Fortresses hidden in plain sight.
The sound of the door clicking open echoed off the surrounding tall trees. I heard night birds scatter into the air. A cool breeze swept under my hair, causing goosebumps to break out all over my body. I rubbed my arms, trying to get warm.
A hand grabbed my arm. I jumped. But I wasn’t scared. I could tell by the rough palms that it was Tanner.
I wasn’t scared.
I knew I should have been . . . but the ability to feel that emotion had long gone from my soul.
I let him guide me into the safe house. The sound of the door closing behind us echoed off the stone walls. Then there was silence. Only silence, but for Tanner moving around. There were no windows. But there would be cameras to scout for anyone who dared approach. Tanner must have been familiar with this kind of setup. Maybe the Klan had these back in the US.
A dim lamp came on, illuminating the round room. My eyes adjusted to the light, and I looked around. Tanner sat behind a few monitors that I guessed were linked to the cameras outside. The blue tint from their screens shone on his face. There was blood. Tanner’s face and chest were covered in blood. And he was holding his arm that bore the bullet wound.
A few patches of non-bloodstained skin remained. I narrowed my eyes. He looked pale. Tanner Ayers was as much a fortress as the safe house that now protected us. But his clenched jaw showed his pain. And his wounded shoulder slumped as he worked to turn on the cameras.
I found the metal cabinet I was searching for on the far wall. After taking out what I’d need, I filled a bowl from the kitchenette with water. When I walked to Tanner, I saw the cameras were on. His eyes were locked on the screens, searching for any threat of enemies. I picked up the emergency cell and called my father.
“Adela?” he said, his voice as neutral as always. Alfonso Quintana could never be seen to be ruffled.
“Papa,” I said, keeping my voice strong. “We are in the safe house.”
“You and Ayers?”
“Yes.”
There was a heavy pause. “My men are handling it. You’ll be retrieved when it’s safe.”
I flicked my gaze up to Tanner. His blue eyes were on me. “And when will that be?”
“Sometime tomorrow,” my father said. I closed my eyes, but then pulled myself together. “There are guns in the usual places, princesa. If you need to use one, don’t hesitate. You’re a good shot. One of the best.”
My father hung up. The meaning of his words was not lost on me. If Tanner Ayers became a threat, I had his permission to kill him.
Tossing the cell to the table, I met Tanner’s eyes. His huge body looked too heavy for the seat he currently occupied. His white shirt was soiled with blood—I was sure it wasn’t the first time he’d had blood on his hands.
“Tomorrow,” I said as I kicked off my heels. “We’re stuck here tonight.” I saw the brief flash of anger cross Tanner’s face. But then his eyes were back on the screens. He only lasted two minutes before he glanced down at his shirt. He ripped it over his head with his good arm.
He tossed the shirt across the room. I didn’t let myself look at his torso. Instead, I took the bowl of water and rag from the desk. “Get up.” Tanner’s head snapped to me. “Get up,” I said again.
When he didn’t, I reached forward to take hold of his arm. He had hold of my wrist in less than a second. “If you think I’m letting you touch me you’re deluded,” he spat, before pushing me away.