Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
T he sound of the helicopter’s rotors grew louder as it descended toward the helipad, whipping the surrounding trees into a frenzy. The powerful downdraft flattened the grass, sending leaves and debris swirling through the air.
Thorn shielded her eyes from the blinding dust as the helicopter touched down, its skids settling firmly on the ground. They’d opted to take off from a nearby hospital, not wanting to make it obvious to anyone watching the house that they were leaving.
Hawk had driven them to the hospital in the Blackthorn Security van, while two FBI operatives—vaguely resembling Thorn and Damian in height and build—had moved into Damian’s house to make it appear like they were still there. It wouldn’t fool anyone for long, but a few days was all they needed.
She turned to Damian, who stood beside her with his travel backpack slung over one shoulder. His eyes were focused and determined, but she could see the tension in his jaw. They had packed light—only what they could carry and what was absolutely necessary for the days ahead.
They were posing as backpackers, traveling through Mexico before heading south to Central America and beyond. Innocent, guileless, with no set agenda.
If only…
Her pack was strapped tightly to her back, filled with essentials and gear she might need in a pinch and Anna had given her an untraceable burner to use when she got there. Only for emergencies.
“Ready?” Thorn shouted over the deafening roar of the rotors.
Damian nodded, gripping the strap of his backpack. Without another word, they sprinted toward the helicopter, their footsteps pounding against the concrete helipad. The pilot, a stern-faced man in dark aviators, gave them a quick nod as they approached.
Thorn reached the helicopter first, tossing her backpack inside before turning to help Damian. He handed her his pack and climbed in after her, the wind tugging at their clothes as they ducked under the spinning blades.
Once inside, Thorn slammed the door shut and secured their bags, checking to make sure everything was in place, just as she’d done multiple times before on her way to Kabul from the Afghan airbase.
The pilot didn’t waste any time. As soon as they were strapped in, the helicopter lifted off, leaving the city behind. Thorn glanced out the window, watching the ground fall away beneath them. They were heading to a small Mexican village where they could lie low until the summit.
She turned to Damian, who was staring out the opposite window, lost in thought. How did he feel about leaving his home, not knowing if he’d ever make it back there? Apart from the pensive look, he seemed fine. Composed, collected, calm. Even with the threats and sudden departure, he was keeping it together.
The guy was tough; she’d give him that much.
As the helicopter soared through the night, she thought about what lay ahead. The conference was only a week away.
Somehow, she would keep him safe until then. She had to, or the bad guys would win, and Damian would be dead. A pang of something she couldn’t decipher hit her full in the chest, and she took a shuddering breath.
Failure was not an option.
The sun had yet to poke its head above the surrounding mountains when the helicopter touched down on a dusty field on the outskirts of a quaint Mexican village called Las Piedras.
“Let’s go,” Thorn called, and they ducked under the spinning blades and sprinted away from the chopper.
Anna had found the most remote, unassuming village she could. It was off the beaten track, so it was unlikely to be frequented by mainstream tourists or have any internet cafes, WiFi, or CCTV. No way for anyone to spy on them.
They could see the ghostly shadow of a town from the clearing where the chopper had dropped them. It was nestled in a valley surrounded by rugged mountains, hence its inaccessibility. “The only way in is by car over the mountain pass,” Anna had told them prior to leaving. “You should be safe there for a while.”
Damian set off in the direction of the town, taking big, determined strides. Thorn had a map folded up in her jacket pocket since reception in the mountains would be nonexistent, but she didn’t need to use it.
“Okay,” Thorn muttered to herself as she set off after him along the well-worn track. They hadn’t spoken much on the flight over, which suited her fine. After their last brief discussion, he’d withdrawn into himself, and she’d gone about the business of guarding him without distraction. It was better this way.
It didn’t stop the unwanted thoughts, however, and every now and then when he glanced at her, she saw the hurt and anger in his gaze. Slanting silver daggers that pierced her heart—but not enough to make her relent.
He’d get over it, just like he got over his other women. One kiss. Okay, two if you count the wedding shot. Two kisses did not make for a relationship, and they sure as hell didn’t mean it was love—or even like, for that matter.
Just lust, the annoying voice in her head said.
Still, the stony silence was better than heated gazes and overwhelming desire that left her breathless and unable to concentrate on her job.
Eventually, they reached a series of dusty outer streets that narrowed as they reached the town. Damian stopped, turning into the rising sun. It cast his face in a warm, orange glow and made his eyes shine with a metallic glint. Her stomach tightened.
He wasn’t out of breath, even though they’d been walking for over an hour. He really was an outdoorsy guy.
“What’s the name of the hotel?” he asked her, putting his hands on his hips.
She consulted the details Anna had sent her on her phone. “Hostal Las Sabinas. It should be next to the town square.”
He gave a stiff nod and set off again, marching down the dusty street that led into the maze of brightly colored adobe buildings, some of which were still in shadow, some of which shone vibrantly in the morning glow.
“We’re supposed to be casual travelers,” Thorn pointed out, catching up with him. “Slow down. What’s the hurry?”
She saw his shoulders tense, but he slowed his pace. Together, they ambled toward the town square—weary backpackers, fresh off the bus from Mexico City. Unsurprisingly, it was still deserted. Thorn looked around, doing a mental risk assessment. The only sound came from a weathered stone fountain, where a trickle of water fell from the figure’s urn and pooled around her.
“That’s it,” she murmured, spotting a small, unassuming hotel situated at the edge of the square. It might have been pretty once, but the whitewashed walls were dirty, and the flowers in the hanging baskets outside had long since wilted and died.
They went around the back into a cobbled alleyway and knocked on the large wooden door. It was early, but presumably, someone would be there since it was a hotel.
Sure enough, a short while later, they heard footsteps inside, and a middle-aged woman opened the door. “?Sí?”
They didn’t have prebooked accommodation, preferring not to leave a paper trail. Not even in a false name. It was best if they were spontaneous, just like backpackers would be. That way, nobody would know their itinerary.
Thorn cleared her throat and said, “Do you have a room?”
The woman stared at her. “?Qué?”
She glanced at Damian. They were supposed to be American backpackers, but this region was very remote.
She was about to try again in halting Spanish when Damian stepped forward and said, “Buenos días, ?quisiéramos reservar una habitación?”
Thorn stared at him. Okay, so he could speak Spanish like a native. Seems there were a lot of gaps in his file.
The woman broke into a broad grin and nodded.
Thorn sighed in relief.
“?Para cuántas personas?”
Damian replied, “Para dos, con dos camas y ba?o completo.”
Thorn thought she picked up bedroom and bathroom . Damian said something else she couldn’t understand, but the woman was nodding.
“Sí.” She held open the door.
They were in.
“I asked for breakfast to be included,” Damian said, as they followed the woman to their room. “I thought if we didn’t have to go out to eat in the morning, it would make us less conspicuous.”
“Good thinking.”
People noticed strangers, and in this town, they would be very noticeable. In retrospect, somewhere busier might have helped them blend in more.
Still, the chances of anyone finding them here were very remote, and the backpacker legend was a good one. It gave them an excuse to wander around aimlessly, eating on the cheap and lying low. A couple of days was all they needed before they’d head to Miami for the conference.
“Where’d you learn to speak Spanish?” she asked, once they’d gotten to their room. It was clean and comfortable, if a little sparse, and contained only the bare minimum of furniture. There was no television, no WiFi, and barely any cell phone reception.
Perfect.
“One of my foster families was fluent,” he replied, vaguely.
“Why didn’t you say?”
He gave the first hint of a smile since they’d arrived. “Didn’t want to spoil the surprise.”
She snorted. At least he hadn’t lost his sense of humor. She took that to be a good sign.
“I’ll take this side.” Thorn placed her pack on the bed. It was a small double that dipped in the middle, but the bedding looked clean. She wanted to be closest to the door in case anything came through it in the night.
“Works for me,” Damian said, walking over to the window, about to push open the shutters.
“Don’t!” Thorn shot away from the bed. “You shouldn’t do that. You never know who’s waiting outside with a sniper rifle.”
He sighed and stepped back, but she noticed the flicker of concern in his eyes. He knew she was right. Even out here, in the middle of nowhere, someone could be watching.
“I didn’t think.”
“You don’t have to think about it. That’s why I’m here. Stand back.” He moved out of the window’s line of sight so she could open the shutters. Sunlight streamed in, lighting up the sparse room and pooling on the threadbare rug.
“Nice view,” he muttered, gazing out at the town square.
The plaza was charmingly rustic, typical of a small Mexican village. The surrounding buildings had weathered, whitewashed walls, clay-tile roofs, and wooden shutters. Some were modest eateries with a few tables outside under faded umbrellas. A group of children kicked a ball around near a crumbling statue of a man on a horse, probably the town’s founder or someone equally significant.
“It’s quaint.” She looked down. The drop was about three and a half meters. “And we can make the jump if we have to get out this way.”
He studied her. “Do you ever switch off?”
She snorted softly. “I try not to. This isn’t a holiday. Don’t think Markov can’t get to you here. We have to be prepared for anything.”
“I thought we’d be safe here.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, which creaked under his weight. “Nobody knows where we are, right?”
“Maybe, but we need contingencies, just in case.” Always be prepared—that was the motto that had been drummed into her during her training.
“Okay. Well, you come up with the contingencies. I’m going to take a shower.” Damian bent over and unzipped his backpack. “Unless you want to go first?”
She shook her head. “Go ahead. I’m going to take a look around before it gets too crowded. I need to check out a few things.”
He frowned. “You’re going to leave me here alone?”
“Yeah, but you’ll be fine. I’m going to lock you in since we only have one key.”
“You could leave the key with me,” he suggested. “I’ll let you in when you get back.”
Thorn hesitated. “I’d prefer to keep it with me.”
His expression darkened. “Don’t you trust me to stay put?”
“Of course,” she lied. “I just think it’s safer this way.”
The muscles in his jaw tensed. “Fine. You’re the boss.”
Damian stripped off his T-shirt, and Thorn left with the image of his finely tuned torso burned into her retina.