Chapter Thirty-Four
I n thirty-six hours , Rio and Becca were indeed back in San Antonio. Rio’s wound hadn’t completely healed. That would take time. However, it hadn’t become infected and the sides were slowly knitting together. Unless he forgot and bumped it, or moved too fast, he was in little pain. Certainly he couldn’t be considered in combat effective shape, but he didn’t expect further trouble.
To get the ordeal over with, they went straight to the authorities for their hours-long interview. Both told all they knew, and were finally allowed to leave.
Back at Becca’s condo, they found where the shooter had hidden on her front stoop. The lock had been broken, but it didn’t appear that he’d had time to go inside.
Rio spent a few hours replacing her old lock with a solid dead bolt, and he put new sturdy latches on her windows. No way was he going to leave her alone without adequate protection. The cartel would have no further interest in her now, he was certain, but there were a lot of bad guys out there and he believed in keeping honest people honest.
Besides, he had something to take care of and it didn’t involve her.
Inside her condo, it was evident that her roommate had arrived home, stayed for a few days, and flown out again on a new work trip.
In the kitchen, Becca was happily preparing a roast chicken dinner, and had promised him an apple pie just like the one Sarah had taught her to make. He figured the female part of her needed to stir around the kitchen, find a sense of normality after all the stressful events. His new locks would help her feel secure in her home again.
Tomorrow she’d be interviewed a second time by the authorities, and her brothers would need to go in, too. The sooner the matter could be put behind them, the better. Another issue entirely was dealing with their disappointment in their father.
At five o’clock, he put aside the few tools he’d bought to install her locks and made sure his Glock was tucked into the small of his back. He wore a t-shirt and over that, an open button-down shirt to conceal the bump. “I have to go out for a while,” he told her. “Be back in a few hours.”
In surprise, she glanced up from seasoning her chicken. “Where are you going?”
He went to the door. “Got some business to take care of.”
“What?” She put down her spoon. “What sort of business?”
“Don’t worry about it.” He walked back to cup her cheek and brush a kiss over her lips.
“Rio.” She clutched his arm, her brow creasing. “You are coming back. Right? You’re coming back?”
He marveled at her intuition. Somehow she seemed to know he was going into danger. But he couldn’t admit that.
“In a couple of hours. I’ll take the old rental car and leave your SUV here.” He moved to the door. “Looking forward to that chicken and pie.”
Worry clouded her features. “Wait. You’re taking your gun?”
She must have seen the telltale bump on his back. There was nothing he could do about that now. “It’s just habit.”
Before she could protest further, he moved into the night. No way could he tell her that in the next few hours, somebody might be killed. He couldn’t tell her there was a chance that somebody could be him.