Chapter 30
Nash
Tears are one thing. I saw them last night as she tried to fight the pain as I peeled the numbers from her body, but the sobbing draws me out of the bed.
The call to her sister didn’t last long, but it’s clear that it damaged her even further.
She turns away from me when I approach, and I hate the fact that she does it so easily. I know better than to think holding her last night formed any sort of bond between us, but the speed in which she makes it clear I’m not welcome is like a slap to the damn face.
I refuse to let her get lost in her head. There’s too much shit from the past in there, and I can’t let her ruin her present because of it.
I haven’t met her sister, but whatever the spoiled fucking brat said to make her this upset fucking pisses me off.
“What the fuck happened?” I growl, clenching my jaw when she jerks. I try for a different tone, not wanting her to take my anger at her being upset personally. “Why are you so upset?”
“S-someone recognized me online. Th-they s-sent her videos.”
Something akin to hatred grips my chest, making it difficult to take full breaths.
“Someone?” I ask, because the timing is a little too suspect.
She nods. “They sent them on VHS tapes, and she somehow managed to find a VCR.”
“No one recognized you,” I tell her, because letting her believe she was betrayed by someone other than who it actually is would be fucked up. We’ve dealt with enough bullshit to add to the pile. “One of Pirro’s men did this.”
She blinks up at me, her eyes and cheeks shining with tears.
“Pirro?” she asks, her head shaking. “He’s dead, and he works for Raul. They all work for Raul.”
I didn’t realize that I never confirmed who was behind that fucking house of horrors until she speaks his name.
“Cortez.”
She nods. “That was his organization. Do you really think he’s the one who did it?”
She seems more terrified now than she did a few moments ago.
“They could’ve easily sent it in email or as a video to her cell phone, but it would be easier to track it that way. They didn’t want a digital footprint. The cartels have been using low tech means to threaten people since that tech was invented. Why change it if it isn’t broken, you know?”
The quiver in her chin increases. “Cortez? Really?”
She’s bordering on hysteria.
“Alani isn’t safe,” she says as she jumps up from the chair, the back of her arm swiping at her tears as if her own safety and emotions no longer matter.
I know it isn’t normal to go through life with absolutely no fucking connections.
I know the way I’ve lived as long as I can remember would confuse people.
I don’t exactly understand her getting so upset about someone else, but I also can’t just ignore it.
The things this woman was willing to do to keep her sister safe means she’ll continue to do them, and that could compromise me.
I don’t try to understand why I want to help her or why seeing her upset affects me more than anyone has ever had the ability to do so.
“I thought she was safe. Slick said that they had someone keeping an eye on her.” I watch as her eyes dart around the room.
“I’ve been so selfish. I’ve been worried about reaching out to her and not telling her about what happened.
I never considered that he’d follow through with their threats. We have to go. I have to go to her.”
I want to ask just what the fuck she thinks she’s capable of doing to protect her sister from such a monster, but I don’t think it will be received very well.
“He could already have her,” she says, her chest heaving with the beginning of another round of sobs.
“He doesn’t have her. You just got off the phone with her,” I remind her. “Did she sound any different?”
She doesn’t pull away when I press my palm to the top of her shoulder.
“She hates me. He told me he’d do this, that he’d make her believe I’m a horrible person.
He threatened to send tapes to the cops, to make it impossible to return to my normal life.
I never expected to be free, and I was okay with that so long as she was safe.
Nash,” she gasps. “She doesn’t even know she’s in danger. ”
I fight the urge to rip the phone from her when she presses redial to call her sister back.
Her eyes squeeze closed a second later.
“The call won’t even connect. She blocked the number. We have to go get another phone.”
I take the phone she shoves in my hand as if she’s trading it for the new one she expects.
“Knowing Cortez sent videos to your sister doesn’t clear the border. We still won’t be able to get to her today, and possibly not even tomorrow.”
She shakes her head as if she refuses to accept the truth.
“Let me make some calls. I’ll see if I can get someone to her who can actually keep her safe.”
She takes a deep breath, but instead of arguing like I fully expect her to do, she nods, falling back onto the chair as if she no longer has the strength to stand.
For some unexplainable reason, I want to fix this for her. I want to be her hero, to save the fucking day. I want her to see me as someone other than the guy who hurt her a little to keep someone else from hurting her a lot.
This is a new experience for me. Any other time, I’d walk away.
If it didn’t benefit me in some way, I’d just ghost. I don’t go looking for trouble, and I’m never willing to put myself in danger unless the pay is good enough.
Don’t get me wrong, I want to end evil. I want to rid the world of every sick fuck that walks on it, but I’d never do it at the expense of myself.
Until her.
I also know, as sure as I stand right here, that if I don’t try to get us back to Texas tonight, she’s going to leave on her own. She may look like she’s complying right now, but I can see her mind working, making a plan to get back to her sister.
“Angel,” I grunt, the second the man answers the phone.
“Don’t tell me you’re already needing more help.”
I remain silent. Only a couple of seconds into the phone call and I’m already thinking it was the wrong move to make.
“Quit being a dick,” Lauren says from somewhere near him.
“What can I do for you?” Angel asks, his customer service voice annoying me more than his jab at needing help.
I close my eyes in frustration, reminding myself that this isn’t about me. This is for Ayla.
“Alani, Ayla’s sister, was sent a VHS tape.”
“Fuck,” Angel snaps, knowing exactly what it means.
“Yeah,” I agree. “Ayla, I need details about your sister.”
She faces me.
“She’s at college,” I begin, drawing from the information she’s already disclosed to me. “I need someone watching her until we can get there. Do you have anyone available?”
“I’ll see who I got and will send them that way. But, Nash—”
“I know,” I say.
We don’t have to discuss the very real possibility that Cortez acted first and sent the videos later, or he somehow knows we haven’t left Mexico and plans to go after Alani before we can get to her.
Angel listens as I relay the information Ayla gives me about Alani.
After the call ends, I urge her to stand in front of me.
“I know you’re going to want to leave tonight, but he’s sending someone to help her. We can’t risk getting caught or arrested. It won’t help Alani if you end up dead or behind bars.”
She nods as if she agrees but I know it won’t keep her from thinking she’s more capable of getting across the border than she actually is. Her fear is making her think she’s stronger than she is.
“We need to get some supplies.”
She nods, sitting on the edge of the bed to pull on the shoes I got for her yesterday.
I grab my boots as well.
She doesn’t keep the same distance she kept when we walked into the market area that she maintained yesterday, and after the second brush of her hand against mine, she curls her much smaller hand into my palm.
We don’t say a word. We don’t mention the connection.
It’s not just the physical touch that I can’t wrap my head around. It’s the soul-deep affinity I seem to have for this woman. We cut each other deeply with the things we were forced to do, but neither one of us are asking for forgiveness.
She did what she did to protect her sister. I have no doubt that she’d do it all over again, just like I would to keep Pirro from hurting her.
The hand holding is far enough, so I have no idea why I lift her hand and press my lips to the back of it.