Page 22 of Lethal Vengeance

“I can,” I state, emphasizing my independence from him and the organization. “Normally, I’d have already taken care of the situation, but I respect your loyalty to him. Take note. Respect only goes so far. I won’t tolerate him stalking me.”

Dark eyes narrow in anger. “Watch yourself. The organization has spies everywhere. It would be a shame for you to leave this earth before you finish the job.” He waves a hand. “I’ll give him something to do, at least for the next few days.”

Hmm, sounds like his control of Rodrigo is limited. His pet has more clout in the organization than I thought. Not that it matters. He’s on the list.

“Thank you,” I grit out, barely able to form the words.

Without another word, he gets up and strolls off.

I guess the meeting is over.

* * *

The skinon the back of my neck tightens. I take an immediate right at the next corner, then jaywalk straight across the middle of the street, stopping cars left and right to get to the other side. Horns blare, and curses fill the air, but I don’t care. The maneuver gives me a head start. I swivel around to see who is following me.

Zane’s scowling at me from the other side of the street. His large hand swipes across his shaved head in frustration.

I wonder what it feels like—is it smooth or prickly like scruff?

He cocks his head to the side and pulls a black phone out of his pocket.

I answer on the first ring.

“Do you always walk into traffic?” he bites out, apparently pissed at my actions.

“I do when I sense someone following me,” I fire back. “What do you want?”

“I’m not the only one tailing you today,” he reveals. “Don’t worry. I didn’t take him out. Rodrigo is sleeping peacefully in the park.”

Fuck. I hadn’t even sensed Rodrigo or Zane this morning, too busy letting the past get its hooks into me. “I don’t need you to take care of me. Why are you following me?”

Silence. “I thought you might need back-up.”

Back-up. Another word from the past. Something dark beats hard in my chest and the need to escape becomes overwhelming. “I’ve got an appointment. I’ll be back soon.” I hang up.

He slowly lowers the phone from his ear. The scowl on his face changes to something more contemplative.

Wanting to avoid any deep discussions on my background, I join a group of people passing by. Laughing and chatting, they don’t even notice I’m there. After a couple blocks, I break away and head to my favorite cantina.

The faded green iguana greets me at the door like an old friend welcoming guests into his humble abode. The worn, dated look isn’t inviting to most people, but for me, the relative obscurity of this place makes it perfect. With a sigh, I pull open the door and enter the dim interior, pausing only a second to allow my eyes to adjust, before moving forward to slide onto my favorite ripped leather barstool.

A quick scan of the bar confirms it’s empty, but the thought doesn’t generate the same satisfaction it usually does. Instead, a shiver runs up my spine, along with a sense of uneasiness. I frown. This is my escape hole, the place I come to hide from the world. The cantina is perfect because it has few visitors. I’ve plotted every single step of my plan at this bar and in this very seat.

A hand slaps the bar. “Qué quieres?” a woman asks, her voice rough like sandpaper.

Startled, I blink. An old woman glares at me from behind the bar. My frown deepens. I scan the area around her, searching for Lupe, the girl who’s waited on me every single time for over a year. She’s not here.

“Where’s Lupe?”

Her eyes narrow. “Muerta.”

Dead. “How?” I demand.

Her eyes fill with fear, and she shakes her head in refusal.

Very few people generate that much fear. A few come to mind, but my gut says it’s the psychotic one. The one who was in here just a few days ago.

Rodrigo.