Chapter 13
Rami waited while Ivy packed clothes, personal items, and camera equipment. When she was done, he bent to grab the handle of her suitcase. “You sure you don’t want to take more?” he asked, surveying her bedroom.
He hadn’t meant to make her second-guess moving in with Gigi. But he also wouldn’t sit back and watch her imprison herself. Right now, she was vulnerable. She needed to heal. The best place to do that was with her family. But did she need make the decision to move out right now? Probably not.
She lifted a shoulder. “I think I was moving for the wrong reasons. I’ll take her up on her guesthouse offer temporarily, but for now I want to know my home is waiting for me.”
She had an air of contentment he hadn’t previously witnessed in her demeanor in the limited time he’d known her. He touched the strands of her hair hanging over her shoulder. “Ready?”
She nodded.
He rolled the suitcase through her apartment, but just as they reached the door his phone buzzed in his back pocket. “One sec.” He pulled out the device and opened the text from Taschen.
Urgent. Call me.
He clenched his jaw. Anything that was urgent right now, while he was technically off, couldn’t be good. “I need to make a call.”
“Sure. Actually, I forgot to email the apartment manager to let her know I’ll be away. Take your time.”
“Won’t take long,” he assured her, tapping Taschen’s contact icon.
She gave a little wave and strode toward the bedroom. The flowy material of her dress offered a glimpse of her slim, toned calves as she disappeared. Calves hadn’t been particularly sexy to him until now.
Taschen answered on the second ring. “Sorry to interrupt your little rendezvous.”
“What’s up?” he asked, not taking the bait.
“We’ve got a problem. My guy at the FBI just warned me the cartel is planning to make a move.”
“What?” Motherfucker. “How do they know?”
“They’ve got a snitch. Word is they’re pissed as fuck. The grenade you threw took out three of their men.”
“I don’t see how they can trace it back to us. We were careful.”
“Not us.” A beat passed. “Her. They took Ivy’s purse when they grabbed her. They’ve got her ID and they want to use her to get to you.”
Rami whispered a slew of curses. Shit. Shit. Shit. He’d wanted to keep Ivy safe and all he’d done was endanger her. “All right. We’ll—”
“Dude, there’s more.”
Rami exhaled a hot breath through his nose. He wanted to grab Ivy and put her on a plane immediately. Their team was strong, but going up against a cartel was suicide. “Go on.”
Tension crackled the phone line. “They want her head, bro. Death by decapitation.”
“What?” He tunneled his hand through his hair. A violent fire brewed inside him—fear burning with profound rage.
“I know, dude. I know.” Taschen, usually ballsy, was subdued.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Rami racked his brain. They needed a plan. Already, his team was stretched as thin as a veil. Leaving Ivy unprotected wasn’t an option.
“We’re stuck, bro.” Taschen echoed Rami’s fears.
Ivy peeked out from the doorway of her bedroom, her gaze hesitant yet knowing.
“Gimme a bit and we’ll talk soon. Can you call Toth and update him?”
“Yeah.”
“We’re just leaving Ivy’s apartment. Safe to say this is the first place they’ll look. I want someone to stake out her building to tip us off when they come.”
“Good call. I’ve got an intern who can keep watch.”
Rami disconnected and returned his phone to his pocket. Ivy’s footsteps whispered across the laminate plank flooring. “What’s wrong?” Strain creased her face, reminding him of the fragile state she’d been in just last week.
“Let’s talk when we get to your sister’s.”
He wouldn’t hide the danger from her, but he also wouldn’t share the ugly details. An itch began at the base of his tailbone.
He’d never been the fearful type. As a matter of fact, he was most at ease with a gun in his hand and face-to-face with destruction. But being in her apartment with no backup and the cartel potentially close made him hastily lead her to the door.
His plans had gone from stripping her naked to keeping her head intact. The contrast gave him heart palpitations.
***
Rami’s hand encircledIvy’s, warming her skin as he opened the lobby door of her apartment building. Warm summer air caressed her face. He rolled the suitcase behind them. She readjusted her crossbody bag, tucking her phone inside.
“Shit,” Rami mumbled. He stopped with the door partially ajar, body rigid.
Ivy jerked her gaze to the street. A large SUV was parking at the curb. A man dressed in cargo pants and a snug black T-shirt locked his gaze on her as he slid from the passenger seat. A gun flashed as he moved.
She sucked in her breath. Rami towed her back inside and shoved her toward the hallway. “Go! Hide somewhere until I find you.”
Rami was already pulling his weapon from the small of his back. “Run!”
Panic gripped her senses and she stumbled before terror lit fire to her feet and she charged for the stairwell at the opposite end of the hall.
A glance over her shoulder showed Rami with his back to the wall near the front entrance. A couple came out of the elevator. “Shooter!” Ivy yelled. “Get out!”
The woman screamed, and the pair charged for the back exit. The woman’s cry echoed off the tile floors as the gunman entered the lobby. Ivy tore down the long hallway as Rami slammed the attacker into the wall.
The smack of knuckles on bone followed. Another glance showed Rami wrestling with the man. The attacker slammed his elbow into Rami’s face and pivoted his gun to aim at her.
Crack!
A bullet whistled through the air, clapping into the drywall a foot away from her.
Her feet slapped against the tile as she ran by one apartment after another, the inlaid doors and welcome mats creating a dizzying kaleidoscope.
She burst into the stairwell and pressed her back to the wall next to the door. Tremors shook her legs, and it took all her strength not to sink to the floor. Each sharp gasp from her lips was as loud as a foghorn to her ears.
They’re here for me. They want to take me back to that camper... or worse.
If she fled and Rami got killed, she’d never forgive herself. But what could she do?
Her chest rose and fell as loud grunts and a whack of weapon to flesh made their way into the stairwell. Part of her, the part with Rami’s voice in her head, told her to run. Keep running. Don’t stop. Because if the killer overpowered Rami for even a second, he’d find her.
She closed her eyes on a breath. She had nothing. No weapon. But she had her phone in her bag and Rami needed backup. The guy had to be part of the cartel, or working for them. Which meant the place could be crawling with killers. She needed to call for help but find a hiding place first.
Breaking away from the wall she ran up the steps to the second floor. She quietly eased open the door that led to the hallway and looked down the length of carpet. A man whistling and carrying grocery bags stopped at one of the units and opened the door. A dog barked, and he scooped up a little Yorkie. “Wanna go outside, Winnie?”
He exited the apartment carrying the little dog and headed back toward the elevator. He hadn’t locked the door behind him.
Ivy quickly slipped inside.
Please, God, don’t let anyone else be home.
Silence greeted her. She skirted to the kitchen and unlocked her phone. Hopefully they’d check her apartment and then leave without endangering any of the other residents. Her fingers shook, fumbling over the glass screen and mistyping letters. Surely she was in a nightmare.
C’mon, get your shit together.
After summoning some focus, she got the letters into the search engine and found the number.
A woman answered. “Backcountry Protection Services, Pearl speaking. How may I direct your call?”
She didn’t have time to wait to speak to one of the guys. The man with his dog would be back any minute. “This is Ivy Hastings. Rami’s in trouble.”
“Oh no!” Pearl cried. “Let me—”
Ivy interrupted, rattling off her address. “Please send help.” She disconnected and then slipped her phone into her crossbody bag.
Indecision warred inside her. She glanced toward the door. Were they still fighting? Was Rami looking for her?
She didn’t have much time before Yorkie Guy returned. She swallowed as a few seconds ticked by. Hopefully Winnie liked long walks. Last thing she needed was a breaking and entering charge—or worse, for an innocent person to die because of her.
Scanning the untidy kitchen, her gaze landed on knife block. She yanked out a paring knife.
Ivy inched her way to the door and inched it open. No shouts or footsteps reached her ears. If she crossed paths with anyone from the cartel, she’d be a goner. Never bring a knife to a gun fight and all that.
Her chest ached as she sucked in a needed breath. She slipped into the hall and the hairs on the back of her neck stood erect. Goosebumps skittered over her flesh as she headed toward the staircase. Her shoes padded over the carpet, every step making her pulse hammer.
Tension wound around her spine. She expected the piercing entry of a bullet any second—but it didn’t come.
The elevator dinged and Yorkie Guy’s whistles bounced down the hallway before she could send herself catapulting through the door. If the dude was still chipper, he clearly hadn’t encountered any gunfire.
Where the hell was Rami? Ivy pressed her hand to the metal bar of the exit door. The cool steel jarred her senses. Pressure built at her temples as she craned her neck to look into the stairwell through the window cut out of the door.
Empty.
She pushed on the door. But her hand was yanked away. She gasped. A scream rooted itself in her throat. A rough hand caught her wrist and towed her into the stairwell.
The man wheeled her around so her back was to his front. The muzzle of a gun pressed against her temple. Terror temporarily blinded her. His arm belted across her chest, shoving her back into the hard length of his massive body. She shifted her hand so the knife hung in front of her and out of his sight.
“Scream and I’ll put a bullet in your head.” His hand moved to rest at the crook of her neck, and his fingers gripped her tendons like angry talons. “Move.” He hustled her toward the stairs.
Ivy shuffled down the steps with the brute latched to her neck. Her pulse echoed in her ears, the sound amplified by the empty cement stairwell. She shifted her gaze to the level below—any second Rami would burst through.
Unless he was dead.
The possibility seized her gut, making bile climb the back of her throat. Oh, god. If he was dead because of her...
No. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—accept that reality.
They reached the main floor, but instead of taking the door to the ground-floor hallway that would lead to the entrance of the building, he steered her toward the fire exit.
She dug her heels into the slippery floor. The action made the guy’s chest flatten to her back. “Where is he?” she demanded.
“Shut up,” he barked. His fingers bit down harder as he shoved her outside.
The sticky air sucked the breath from her lungs, instantly turning the stress-sweat on her skin sour. It was quieter at the back of the building. No foot traffic.
The parking lot loomed. A tinted SUV was parked in a handicapped zone. Seeing the vehicle made hysteria mount inside her, shortchanging rational thought.
With every step her chest constricted. The track marks on her arms burned—a stark reminder of what lay inside the vehicle. She squeezed the handle of the knife. If she struck now, he’d get a bullet in her before she could take cover.
He nudged her off the sidewalk and onto the concrete parking lot. The side of the vehicle brushed her arm, its heat matching the flames in her core telling her to take flight.
Now!
Gripping the knife, she wheeled around and jabbed the blade into the brute’s side. Metal entered flesh, sinking in deep. Blood squirted to coat her hand. His arm fell away from her neck and he gripped his side as she chugged backward.
“Ah! Fuck!” he bellowed.
Ivy sprinted through the parking lot, icy-cold fear tickled her spine. She needed to hide. Ducking low, she got behind a silver van.
“Bitch,” he called. “I’ll find you.”
Ivy pressed her hands to the pavement. The warm pebbly aggregate dug into her skin as she leaned down to look under the cars. Her chest burned with every shallow inhale. His boots came into view, about four cars down, his footing labored yet steady.
She’d hurt him, but he had enough stamina to find and kill her. She glanced at the stretch of grass between the parking lot and the back of her apartment building. If she ran, she’d be spotted like a telephone pole in an open field.
Even if she was lucky enough to reach the door, she didn’t have her keys. The scuff of boots on cement reached her ears. He was getting closer. She needed cover. Then maybe she could pull out her phone and call Rami.
Getting flat on her belly, she slithered under the van. The concrete picked at the fine material of her dress.
Her breath wheezed in and out through her nose. The thick, heavy scent of motor oil and gasoline rushed to her brain, dizzying her. Heat radiated between the ground and the undercarriage of the vehicle, roasting her from all sides.
The scrape of his shoes grew closer. With her cheek pressed to the concrete, she fumbled at her side and opened her bag, grabbing her phone. If she called Rami now, the man would hear her.
Please walk past me, please walk past me.
His footsteps closed in, echoing beneath the chassis. She bit her lip and covered her mouth. Her warm, moist breath coated her palm, making her skin as slick as the sweat collecting on her cheeks.
“I know you’re close,” he chanted. He spoke at a normal level, winded but calm.
Ever so slowly she moved her gaze to the rear of the vehicle. His black combat boots stood mere feet away. She watched as he turned, about to head across the parking lot.
She let her shoulders sag and her eyes closed on a sigh of relief. In a minute, once he was far enough away, she’d dial—
A fierce hand fastened itself around her ankle, yanking her from her hiding spot. A shriek erupted from her ragged throat as the rough ground tore at her dress and skin. The sun hit her body. Her attacker flipped her roughly onto her back with his foot.
Blood dripped from his side, thick and sticky on his T-shirt and pants. At the rate he was bleeding, he didn’t have long.
Ivy let loose another scream and rolled to her knees, scrambling away. He sunk his hand into her hair, reeling her back so she kneeled before him, her back against his thighs.
“If I had more time, I’d make this fucking worth it.” The cool steel of a gun pressed to her temple.
Thoughts flashed by in rapid-succession. God, she didn’t want Rami to find her brains blown out across the parking lot. She didn’t want to end this way. She wanted more. More from life and more than this.
She wanted Rami.
At the thought of him, warmth spread through her, tingling her skin and promising to carry her from this hell. But she didn’t want that. Didn’t want to leave with the image of Rami when she could stay and have the flesh of him.
She let out a roar and fought—bucking and swinging until strands of her hair ripped from their fiery beds. She turned and sunk her teeth into his thigh, biting down with the ferocity of a pit bull, making her jaw ache. Obscenities rained down on her.
Whack!
His fist connected with her face and forced her back a few inches. He aimed the gun at her nose and she dove again, this time headbutting him in the groin.
He gasped and clutched himself, but before she could get to her feet, he caught her throat in his grip and fell on top of her. Every inch of his heavy body covered hers, and he squeezed his hand until the tendons in her neck threatened to snap.
Stars popped in front of her vision. Her head swam, spinning her on a violent roller coaster. Each gasp that left her lungs wasn’t replenished. She couldn’t move. Couldn’t fight. Her arms, legs, and torso were pinned to the ground. Her killer lay on top of her, bleeding out. His blood was hot on her abdomen, burning through her dress like lava. He let out a grunt, seemingly using the last of his strength to haul her with him to hell.
Her eyes flickered and a scream lay dying in her throat.
Wham!
The crunch of metal on bone cracked in the air. Blood oozed from her attacker’s split head. His mouth went slack and his soul left his eyes.
Her brain grappled to stay conscious and find out what had hit him. Then the hand around her neck loosened and oxygen rushed into her body.
Someone dragged the limp body off her. Rami stood over her, chest heaving and molten rage in his eyes. He bunched his fists as if it took great effort to rein in his fury.
Her dark angel.