Chapter 20
CHAPTER 20
A s they roared out of the town, the lights of the small village were replaced by the shadowy embrace of the mountains. The road twisted and climbed, the engine's growl echoing off the sheer rock faces that loomed on either side.
Damian kept his eyes on the road ahead, the moonlight casting eerie shadows that danced across the asphalt. The mountain pass was narrow and treacherous, with steep drops just beyond the guardrails.
It was the only way in or out of the town, a natural bottleneck. His pulse quickened. If they were being pursued, this was where the danger would close in.
Used to handling a motorcycle, he maneuvered around the tight corners with ease, avoiding the loose gravel. The wind whipped through his hair, the chill of the night air cooling his skin.
Despite the situation, it felt good to be on the road again.
Thorn tightened her grip around his waist, and he smiled into the darkness. The fact she was behind him made it even better. The altitude made his ears pop, but he barely noticed, his mind focused on the ride and the woman molded to his back.
It was easy to imagine a different scenario. One where he was free, and she was his woman. They were on vacation, taking a joy ride, just the two of them. Except that fantasy had come to a shattering halt when the two men with guns had burst into their hotel. He’d thought they were safe, but he’d been wrong.
Thank God Thorn had woken up. He hadn’t heard a thing.
If it had been a couple of hours earlier, neither of them would have seen it coming. He ground his jaw at the sobering thought.
She was right. Fooling around was distracting, and it put both their lives at risk.
But he was right too. They did have something special, but he knew now that something special would have to wait.
He’d admit that much.
Finally, after what felt like hours of winding through the mountains, they crested the highest point of the pass. The road began its descent, the landscape opening up into a vast expanse of rugged terrain, punctuated by distant peaks that seemed to stretch on forever.
A dusty intersection came into view, illuminated softly by streetlights, and he felt Thorn tap him on the shoulder. He pulled over beneath a weathered signpost and cut the engine. The silence that followed was almost deafening, broken only by the ticking of the cooling engine and the faint rustle of the wind.
“You gonna tell me what happened?” He twisted around in the seat.
Thorn dismounted and marched up and down, stretching her legs—legs that seemed to go on and on in those leggings. She wore trainers but no socks. Neither did he. There’d been no time. “I heard a scream and went to take a look. I saw Isabella with two thugs. One had a knife to her throat.”
“Jesus,” he hissed. “Was she okay?”
“I hope so. She told them she hadn’t seen us, and he seemed to believe her.”
“That’s why we put everything in the closet?” He was catching on. She hadn’t wanted to leave any trace of their stay.
She nodded. “I thought about taking them out, but firstly, I couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t hurt Isabella or Clara, and secondly, it would confirm we were there. When they didn’t check in, whoever sent them would know we were on the run.”
“Alek,” he hissed.
“Could be. The men spoke Spanish, and they looked like hired mercenaries. Is that something Markov would do?”
His eyes slanted. “Yeah.”
She nodded. “What I don’t understand is how he found us. We didn’t tell anyone where we were going. The only people who knew our location were Anna, Hawk, Pat, and the chopper pilot.”
“You think there is a leak?” he asked, frowning.
She gnawed on her lower lip. “I friggin’ hope not, otherwise we’re in a shitload of trouble.”
She could say that again. How the hell were they going to make it to the conference if they didn’t know who to trust? He didn’t say as much, however, since they were in the middle of nowhere and there was nothing they could do about it right now. The most important thing was to get out of sight.
“Which way?” He glanced up at the signpost. “We’d better not spend too long out in the open.” The sign was old, the paint faded, but still readable: one direction pointed back to Puebla, another toward Veracruz, and the third straight ahead, deeper into the heart of Mexico.
“Let me take a look.” Thorn unfolded the map, spreading it out on the seat of the bike. She studied it quickly, and he could see her mind working through their options. “We head straight, toward Mexico City. If they do suspect we were in Las Piedras, they’ll expect us to go toward Veracruz or back to Puebla, but I think we should take the opposite route.”
Damian rubbed his jaw. “Shouldn’t we steer clear of the big cities?”
“We're not going into the city.” She traced a route on the map with her finger. “We’ll bypass it and head toward the Sierra de Puebla mountains. There’s a place I know there, deep in the hills, where we can lay low for a few days, maybe longer if we need to. It’s remote—off the grid. I’ll call Pat from there and tell him what happened.”
He frowned. “Why didn’t you mention this place before? We could have gone there instead of Las Piedras.”
“It’s my parents’ place, or rather it was. It’s mine now. I didn’t want to use it for an op, but now…” She shrugged.
“Now it could save our ass,” he finished for her. He was dying to know how her folks had a place out here, but he shelved that question for later. Again, it wasn’t the time.
They climbed back on the motorcycle, and he twisted the throttle, enjoying the sound of the engine roaring to life.
As they cruised down the deserted highway, Damian felt the steady thrum of the engine beneath him. It was almost comforting. Thorn’s arms were wrapped tightly around his waist, her warmth seeping through the leather of his jacket.
She leaned into him, shielding herself from the biting night wind, and he relished the closeness. For once, they weren’t sniping at each other’s heads or devouring each other; they were simply enjoying each other’s warmth.
The miles melted away under the tires as they navigated the quiet, empty roads. Eventually, they rolled into a forgotten little village tucked into the foothills of the Sierra de Puebla.
The place barely qualified as a town—more like a blink-and-you-miss-it crossroads, with a handful of houses huddled together and a lone gas station that looked like it hadn’t seen any real business in years. The pumps were old, their paint chipped and faded, relics from a time that had long since passed.
Damian cut the engine, his eyes gritty from the long ride. “We need gas. Got any cash?”
“Yeah,” she said, pulling a wad of pesos from her pocket. He filled up the motorcycle tank while she kept watch. When he was done, she walked toward the small, grimy building where a faint light flickered inside.
As she stepped through the door, Damian held his breath. Through the dusty window, he saw her approach the counter. By the looks of things, the interior appeared just as rundown as the outside.
Even from here, he could see a man slumped behind the counter, half-asleep, his attention fixed on a tiny TV. Thorn placed the cash on the counter, the exchange quick and silent. The man barely looked at her before handing over a crumpled receipt, no questions asked. Thorn had everything under control.
Damian exhaled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly as she stepped back outside. She tucked the receipt into her pocket as she walked toward him, then gave him a thumbs-up.
“Let’s move,” she said. “We’ve still got a way to go.”
They continued their journey, leaving the sleepy gas station behind and heading back out onto the open road. According to the map, they were about an hour from Mexico City, after which they’d need to make a hard turn into the mountains.
Damian knew it would take another two or three hours to reach their destination, a small place called Taxco. Doing the entire trip in one go, and on a motorcycle, was brutal, but it wasn’t like they had any better options. The Yamaha wasn’t built for speed, but Damian pushed it as hard as he could, the engine straining as they devoured the miles.
They skirted around Mexico City, avoiding the heavy traffic that was starting to build as the first light of dawn crept into the sky. They took every back road and side street they could find, navigating the city’s outskirts with a mix of instinct and Thorn’s directions. By the time they left the city behind, the sun was starting to rise, casting a warm, golden glow over the surrounding hills.
Once they were in the mountains, Damian pulled over, his eyes gritty and his arms aching from gripping the handlebars. They swapped places, and Thorn drove them the rest of the way.
He knew they were fleeing for their lives, but damned if her ass didn’t feel great sandwiched between his thighs. The roar of the engine and the soft bouncing over the mountainous roads left him with a cock harder than the granite hills around them.
Finally, they pulled off the road beside a sprawling farmhouse, surrounded by a wooden fence in desperate need of repair.
“Do your parents still come here?” he asked, masking his erection by studying the outside of the property.
“No,” she replied, her voice quieter than usual. “They both passed away several years back. First my mother, then my father shortly after. They had me later in life, so they were already quite a bit older.”
Damian felt the weight of her words. “Sorry to hear that.”
Her face clouded over, a brief flicker of pain in her eyes. “Thanks.”
She pushed open the weathered wooden gate, and they stepped onto the grounds. The house sprawled out before them, once a charming farmhouse but now showing signs of neglect.
“La Loma Viva used to be an old coffee plantation,” Thorn explained, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “We did some work on the house after my parents died, but I haven’t been back for a while.”
He could tell. The front of the property still bore the marks of the renovation—two wide sliding doors that opened onto a cobblestone terrace, offering a breathtaking view of the hills and the sea glittering in the distance. But the upkeep had slipped; weeds poked through the paving stones, and the paint on the doors had started to peel. It was clear that the house had once been cared for, but then left to fend for itself.
“We?” Damian asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Me and my late husband.”