The woman tried to act casual as she turned her head away from the policemen, but the pounding pulse at the base of her throat told a totally different story.
Wade stared at her for a second or two, annoyed with himself for not being able to read her better. He used to be pretty good at that shit, but the skill had dulled from disuse. “What kind of trouble are you in?”
“I’m not—I mean—” She blew out a breath. “It’s complicated.”
Wasn’t it always? “Did you kill anybody?”
“What? No.”
“Drugs?”
“No, of course not.”
“Señora.” It was the policeman again, a little louder and more insistent this time. When she didn’t answer, the pair started toward the bar.
Panic widened her eyes as the color drained from her face. He’d seen that look a thousand times before, mostly from people he was about to arrest. The classic cornered animal.
It wasn’t his business.
She wasn’t his problem.
Not to mention, getting involved could raise his profile and potentially fuck up his op. And yet…he couldn’t stand idly by and watch her get detained by the police. In this part of the country, nearly every level of law enforcement had been corrupted by organized crime. Bribes were common, and justice only came to those who could afford it. More likely than not, whoever had sicced the cops on her had deep pockets and a sinister motive.
It was times like these when Wade really hated being saddled with a conscience.
On a muttered curse, he drew a key from his pocket, set it on the bar, and slid it toward the blonde. In a lowered voice, he said, “On the count of three, hit me as hard as you can and haul ass for the rear exit. Once you’re out, hang a right. Fourth door down is mine. Lock yourself in and stay away from the window. If I’m not there in five, my partner will be back soon. Tell him I said starburst. One…”
“Wait, what’s your—”
“Two…”
Her lips flattened as she placed a hand over the key. Her fingers curled, and when she drew her hand back, the key was no longer on the bar.
He was taking a chance, a mighty big one. For all he knew, those cops weren’t dirty, and she’d just slaughtered a church full of nuns. It was a leap of faith, a rarity for him, but his gut demanded he take it.
“Three” had barely pushed past his lips when she clocked him square on the jaw.
Wade hadn’t expected a woman her size to pack that much of a punch. Sick as it sounded, he was impressed. His head snapped back, and for an instant stars filled his vision. He staggered backward, pretended to trip over something on the floor, and then slightly altered his trajectory to ensure he plowed right into the cops.
It took some doing, but he managed to drag both men down and land right on top of them.
“Aw, shit. Lo siento, man,” he slurred, but made no move to get up. Picking a fight with the police would buy him a night or two in jail. Probably get his ass beat too. But playing the role of dumb, drunk, but otherwise harmless American would earn him some scorn from the cops, maybe get him roughed up, but not much else. He shifted to the left, pinning them down with his bulk as he watched the woman scurry out the back.
The policemen cursed him in Spanish as they struggled to get out from under him, but two hundred thirty pounds of solid dead weight was a bitch and a half to move.
Satisfied she had enough of a head start, he rolled off the cops and onto the tile floor, his right hand landing in a puddle of something sticky.
“Fuck, where did she go?” Wade wiped his hand against his faded black jeans.
“Do you know that woman?” one of the policemen demanded in Spanish.
“Huh? No.” Wade switched into the country’s native language but continued to slur his words. “I was trying to get to know her, if you know what I mean, but she wasn’t being cooperative.” He rubbed his jaw. Christ, it still hurt.
The stocky officer cuffed the side of Wade’s head while muttering a few creative Spanish insults. Then the pair took off, rounding the bar and disappearing through the rear exit.
Wade waited until the police were long gone before he pushed up to his feet. A few men at the nearby table were gawking, but then Wade shot them a glare, and they shifted their attention back to the game on television.
Rubbing his jaw, he returned to the bar and ordered a beer. While he waited, questions swirled in his mind. Who was the woman? How did she end up here? And, most important, why were the police after her?
He paid the bartender and sipped his beer, but the crisp taste of the lager barely registered on his taste buds. He’d give Hector until he finished the drink. If he hadn’t shown up by then, Wade was going back to his room, and if the woman was there, he wanted answers.
Chapter 2
HOPE CHANDLER LOCKED the door behind her, her heart pounding like a drum, the beat thundering in her ears.
Safe, at least for now. Though the fact the police were searching for her didn’t bode well. It was her understanding that Beto had the local police in his pocket. If the cops took her into custody, they’d probably bring her straight back to his compound in the mountains. A shudder went through her at the thought of what fate awaited her there.
She flipped a switch on the wall by the door, and a single bare lightbulb hanging from the ceiling filled the room with light. The place was cramped and smelled faintly of mold, barely big enough to fit two cots, a folding metal chair, and a small card table with an old television—complete with bent rabbit ears—on top of it. Whether the television actually worked was anybody’s guess. She wasn’t in the mood to find out.
Two backpacks, one olive green and the other black, sat on the floor between the cots. A door to the left led to a tiny bathroom of questionable cleanliness. No curtains hung over the single barred window, just a tattered roll-down plastic shade that might have been white at some point.
Part of her couldn’t help but wonder what Tiny would want in return for his help. She had no money, nothing of value to trade aside from her medical bag, which she simply refused to part with. And she had no intention of bartering her body for favors.
In a nutshell, she was screwed, and not in a good way.
Perhaps he was just a nice guy who wouldn’t expect any kind of payment, though she doubted that was the case. In her experience, everybody wanted something; the trick was figuring out what it was and whether the cost was worth it.
Her heart leaped into her throat at the sound of voices outside. Two men, and they sounded an awful lot like the cops from the bar. Spanish wasn’t her strongest language, and she struggled to keep up with how quickly they spoke, but when she heard “la güera,” she knew they were talking about her.
Her gaze darted to the back of the room, hoping to find an exit that she’d somehow missed earlier. No such luck, of course. That would have been too convenient. She was trapped, with only one way out. Pulse racing, she searched for something to use as a weapon, but the only thing she saw was the television remote.
As the voices drew closer, her pulse pounded faster, until it got so loud it was a wonder they couldn’t hear it outside. There was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. From what she could tell, they were right by the door, and when the doorknob jiggled, she nearly let out a shriek.