Page 111 of Hit Man

I turn and search his face. Diego made certain I heard him last night, almost like he couldn’t tell me directly yet wanted me to know the truth—that he works for the CIA.

Antonio gives me a soft smile that admits and denies nothing. “Don’t be too upset at him. In our line of business, work always comes before anything else. And Diego risked a lot by bringing you to me.”

“Have you worked with Diego a long time?” I murmur, still trying to wrap my head around it.

Antonio doesn’t reply.

“Fine.”

“Brilliant. You don’t seem like the type to cause drama. He said you’d keep quiet about what you do know. Please do, for your own sake.”

“After my stay in Mexico City, believe me, I want to forget this entire experience.”

Except my project.

Except Diego.

I shake off the overwhelming feeling of loss that’s taken hold of me and focus on the positive. I’ve a new plan to implement. I’ll return to Sacramento, raise money for my cause, consult with my professors at Stanford about what I aim to do, and figure out the best approach toward executing my housing plans. It’s not an immediate solution, which troubles me deeply. Yet what choice do I have if in staying? I put myself at risk. There’d be no helping Margarita and other families like hers if I’m dead.

I tried. I failed, miserably. But I’m not defeated.

He enters the airport and pulls up in front of gate. “Got your ticket?”

“Ticket. Envelope of money. Business card. And two legs to carry me out of this country.”

“He’ll kill me if you don’t get on that flight.”

I roll my eyes. “Now who is being dramatic?”

He chuckles.

I exit the car and Antonio approaches me on the sidewalk wheeling a suitcase and a long blue tube. “Yours?”

“Where did they come from?” I ask him as he hauls Zoey’s suitcase from out of his small trunk.

“Diego. Last night, he put it inside my car after he left us.”

“He must have retrieved them from my taxi driver.”

“That’s what love will do to a man,” Antonio informs me.

Yes. I have everything I need. Except Diego. “He doesn’t even know where I’ll be living or how to contact me.”

“Trust me. When Diego gets fired up about something, barriers crumble.” Antonio pauses. “Hang tight. If luck will have it, things will be better by Christmas. See you around, Aubrey.” He gives me a quick, friendly kiss on the cheek before maneuvering his big body back inside the tiny Fiat, and driving off.

As I head inside, my heart beats wildly despite Antonio intentionally trying to take the sting out of my departure. A different day, a different departure. A different good-bye.

I check in with Melanie, claim my seating, drop my suitcase on the conveyer belt. Following Antonio’s directions, I hand the business card to the tall security officer, who looks at it before putting it in his pocket. At the next checkpoint, I slip another man the envelope of money, which he stashes inside his pocket without a glance before ushering me through. Inside, I settle down onto an uncomfortable plastic seat. I try to keep my mind off Diego as I begin the long wait for boarding.

It’s only when my thoughts completely quiet and I come to terms with my leaving brokenhearted and empty-handed that all hell breaks loose.

Sirens blare. Blue and red emergency lights spiral. Armed security guards begin ushering people away from the gates, back through security, past the lobby check-in, and outside in front of the terminal.

“Que paso?” I ask the nearest officer.

“Security scare,” he answers in English. “We’re closing the airport. Hurry up, señorita. You’ll want to catch a cab before they’re all taken.”

“What about our luggage?”