Chapter 13
Steel
He watched her standing as tall as her five-foot-seven frame allowed, her hips braced against the edge of the open sunroof, her black hair streaming around her as she fired from her perch.
His heart ruptured at the sight of her. The woman was as magnificent as when he’d first fallen in love with her. More so.
With her pinpoint accuracy and cool nature, she took care of her target, then dropped back into the vehicle as fast as she first appeared.
Now, instead of looking at her over the roof of the SUV, he stared at her through the open door.
If someone looked at her right at this moment, they’d never know she’d just shot a man in the face without blinking an eye.
Mierda! That was hot. Being near her was like being exposed to radiation—so hot it melted the flesh right off your bones. Once, he’d been the luckiest bastard on earth. He’d lived with her. Been allowed to love her with abandon. Slept by her side. Created a new life with her.
Now? Those experiences felt like a lifetime ago and as untouchable as the winds of fate that had separated them.
Since they no longer had someone chasing them, Medusa was able to slow down and drive like any other person out on the road.
Sort of. She always drove like a bat out of hell, but at least now she just drove like she was from Illinois instead of a war zone.
Demon backed through the driver’s-side passenger window, ripping his balaclava over his head and onto the floor. “Everybody okay?”
Nemo propelled himself into the back of the vehicle, immediately checking on the dog, while Steel swung himself through the passenger-side door, pulling it shut behind him.
“Why must you drive like you’re on fire?” TB roared.
A voice came over the stereo system. “She does it on purpose, TB, just to hear you bitch.”
“You’re just figuring that out now?” Medusa asked.
All the men, except him, laughed. His eyes were still riveted on Daleyza. Gloriosa.
As if she had radar pinging, her head turned to find him staring at her.
“Nice shooting, belleza,” he told her.
“‘Nice’ doesn’t even begin to cover it,” Nemo said with a whistle. “I haven’t seen anyone that good since competing against you on the range.”
“Taught her everything I know. I’d take her in a firefight over any one of you guys,” he replied, his eyes still on hers.
Color rose to her cheeks, and her gaze locked on the windshield between the two front seats.
She didn’t blush often. Only when praised for doing something well, mostly because no one had ever praised her before him.
A twisted thrill ran through him that his positive reinforcement still worked on her.
He shifted in his seat, and his wife hissed when he bumped her leg. Concerned, he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“It’s nothing,” she answered.
Looking down at her leg, he saw a dark-brown stain developing on her pant leg. “It’s not nothing. You’re bleeding.”
He reached for her leg. They were already cramped in the back seat, and she fought him every step of the way, but he finally managed to secure it in his lap.
There was a rip in her jeans, and he reached into his boot to pull out his knife.
In less than five seconds, he had the material sliced to the knee and her leg exposed, revealing a bullet graze along her calf.
His face flooded with frustration. Stubborn woman. No sense of self-preservation. Immediately, they began to bicker in Spanish and at increasing volume.
“Madre de Dios, you’ve been shot, woman. What’s wrong with you? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“We were a little busy, Ildefanso! Besides, it’s just a graze. It’ll clot and heal. Nothing to worry about.”
“You should have at least said something!”
“Why? So we could stop in the middle of a firefight, and you could put a princess bandage on it?”
“No, but then I would have known you needed medical care, and we could have taken care of it quicker.”
“Jesus Christ, Fanso, you knew about it almost immediately. Five seconds faster would have been before I realized it myself.”
A high-pitched whistle went through the vehicle.
“Look, I appreciate the entertainment as much as the next person, but there’s no popcorn, and I don’t speak Spanish, so since there are no subtitles, could you at least argue in English?” Nemo asked.
Demon gave him an incredulous look. “Dude, I’m not sure if that's insensitive or just bizarre. You speak like seven languages. How is Spanish not one of them?”
Nemo popped a piece of gum in his mouth and shrugged. “I speak enough of it to find a restaurant and a bathroom. That’s all I need.”
“And pick up a girl,” TB said with a snort.
“Not anymore,” Nemo corrected. “Besides, that didn’t take words. Just dance moves.”
“How did you survive as a thief?” Demon asked. “Spanish is, like, the number one language spoken in the world.”
“Well, if you want to be technical, English has actually surpassed Mandarin, Hindi, and Spanish. But Midas speaks it, so I didn’t need to know it.
Besides, I grew up in South Africa, you git.
I speak Afrikaans, English by default. Then I learned Xhosa, French, Italian, and Dutch for all the European jobs we pulled, and just enough Balinese to get by in a market. ”
“Un-fecking-believable,” the medic said in disbelief.
Steel seethed. “Demon, quit provoking him and look at her leg.”
The medic reached across her lap, gave her calf a half twist, then let go and sat back in his seat. “It’s a graze. I’ll take care of it when we get to the safe house.”
“It could get infected,” he growled.
“You’ve traveled through swamps and sewers with worse and come out okay. She can wait until we’re in a more stable environment,” Demon argued.
“At least clean it up. You barely looked at it. It could be worse than you think.”
“Maldita sea, Fanso. I’ll be fine!” she barked.
“Maybe,” he ground out. “But we’re not taking any chances.”
“Oh, for feck’s sake,” Demon grumbled. From his pants pocket, he pulled a packet of alcohol wipes. He made short work of tearing open the package, pocketing the wrapper, and swiping it down her calf, removing the blood gently.
She hissed again, this time at the sting of the alcohol hitting the grazed skin. It was soon apparent that Demon was right in his assessment.
“See? She’s fine.”
“Midas,” Medusa cut in. “We need a new vehicle. Blown-out back window and bullet holes are going to look a bit suspicious if we keep going much farther.”
“Copy that.”
For the most part, the ride was silent after that, other than Medusa conversing softly with Midas over the vehicle’s communications system as he guided them to a pickup point for a new vehicle.
They arrived at a chop shop in the heart of Racine County.
As soon as they were out of the vehicle, men began to swarm it, tearing it apart within minutes.
By the time it was reduced to pieces, they were inside a new vehicle and continuing on.
They crossed the border into Illinois without incident and headed down the interstate into the heart of Chicago.
Daleyza watched the road behind them through the rearview mirror. Back on the interstate, an army-green truck joined them at the border into Illinois, two men in the front seats. They weaved in and out of traffic, but also kept pace with them.
“Fanso,” she whispered. “We’re being followed.”
“Green truck?”
“Yes.”
“It’s okay. They’re with us.”
“And the black one?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.
“Where?”
“Five cars back.”
He glanced in the passenger-side mirror to see if he could spot them. When he did, he called out, “Midas, check with Loki. Does he have an SUV on us? Black.”
“Copy.” Moments later, he came on the line. “Negative, but they were already aware. They spotted them at mile marker twenty-two. They’re keeping an eye on them. Good eye, Senora Ortiz.”
“Midas, we’re fifteen minutes out,” Medusa warned.
“Probably more like ten,” TB grumbled, his hand gripping the ceiling handle.
“Quit your bellyaching, you big pussy.”
“You drive like you play Mario Kart,” he snapped back. “You’ll wreck on purpose if it means taking out the competition.”
“You’re just sore because you lost and had to be Princess Peach last time.”
Daleyza listened in fascination. “Are they always like this?” she murmured to him.
He snorted. “They’re usually much worse to each other, but everyone’s a little on edge right now and trying to keep it together.”
“Fanso—”
He gripped her thigh. Her leg had never left his lap since he pulled it there. “Not now. I promise. I’ll explain when we’re safe.”
She let out a frustrated huff, which he couldn’t help but find cute. She was so impatient. Always. Reminded him of Kubrick.
He winced as his conscience punched at his gut. His secrets were going to cost them far too much.
Fifteen minutes had passed since Daleyza had noticed their tail, and they pulled up to a 1970s split-level home.
Medusa backed into the garage in case they needed to make a quick getaway, and no one exited until the door had closed in front of them.
She stayed behind to top off the truck’s gas tank from emergency cans stored there in case they needed to make a quick getaway at any point.
Inside, the house looked like any other upper-middle-class home. Demon, Nemo, and the dog headed down into the basement. TB stayed in the living room, booting up several computers on the coffee table. Meanwhile, Steel led Daleyza into the main bedroom.
She whirled on him to start speaking, but he put a finger to his lips. “A few more minutes, belleza. Please. Take a shower. Make sure your leg is good and clean. Then we’ll talk.”
Before he could stop himself, he pulled her close.
He closed his eyes, breathing in her sweet scent and praying silently in thanks.
He’d never once believed they would be in the same room together again, let alone that he’d be holding her.
She was stiff in his arms, but she was here, and she was safe. It was enough.
Drawing back, he dropped his hands. “Go ahead. Our handler sent some clothes for you if you want to change. We’ll be out in the main room.”
Leaving her in that room was the hardest thing he’d done since going back to the Navy and the future he knew would take her from him. He only hoped that when he had to leave her again, he’d be numb to it.