11. Miguel
11
MIGUEL
I found her heading into a restaurant later that night. Instead of inserting myself in her space, I loitered outside. A long patio-like area was available for guests who only wanted drinks. High-top tables offered a place to enjoy appetizers.
I took up residence at one of those to watch her from afar.
Walls stood between us. I wasn’t in the same room, not even the same building as her, but I was afforded a view of her and I took it.
Even from a distance, I could track her. And with all this space between us, I could have the freedom to sate my curiosity a little more.
Watching Isabel would never get old.
Seeing her slight reactions and smiles, the frowns too. They all made me wonder what she was thinking, what her opinions were and which observations she was making.
A gorgeous, sexy woman was one thing. An alluring and inquisitive mind was another. I didn’t want to only see her. I wanted to get under her skin and admire what made her tick.
And this , I mused as I lifted my drink for a sip, is the definition of an obsession.
This chance to see her was my reward after all the time I’d spent searching for her—which really wasn’t that long since she’d already been here in Acapulco when I started this case and I’d only lost her for two days. I no longer had to imagine how her hair fell down her back and framed her lovely face. I could see it. I didn’t have to ponder and wonder if her face would light up in polite or sly smiles. I saw it. A low burn of envy lit me up at catching her smiling at the waiter, wishing she were giving me those looks. Receiving her attention was a heady sensation, a gift I wanted to experience again.
Nursing my drink, I settled in to watch and thought about my situation. Being this close to her was proof in two conflicting ways. One, I still had it—I could still find a target no matter how elusive they’d try to be. And two, I still had it—I could still suffer from the addiction of wanting this woman.
After she was finished with her food, I got up to follow her out of here. Where she would lead me was up to debate. Because deep down, I wasn’t sure I “still had it” because killing her, like I was expected to, didn’t sound right.
I hadn’t had a chance to spend enough time with her yet.
I hadn’t had an opportunity to feel enough of her warmth.
She took a route out to the east of the building, and it didn’t surprise me. I was already familiar with how adept she was at choosing something off the beaten path—literally. If she wasn’t a master of evasion, I wasn’t sure what else to call her. Someone had taught her how to weave in and out of places, never making her routine consistent or her path noticeable.
And she did it now. Picking this darker system of alleyways wouldn’t be anyone else’s first choice for a walk home—especially a lone woman.
But she’s not alone.
I liked the idea that she would never truly be alone so long as I was near. She would always be within my sight, within my reach.
Letting her walk ahead of me was both a torment for myself and a trick to play on her.
Can you tell that I’m following you?
Are you pretending not to notice?
Will you run if I get any closer?
She hadn’t run—at first—at that club. When I confronted her, she didn’t freak out or try to burst away. No. Instead, she’d danced with me. She listened to me flirt with her. Still, when I told her and showed her how I wanted to dominate and possess her, she stayed to hear me out and experience a sample of how badly I wanted her.
Ahead of me in this alley as the rain picked up, she didn’t run. Mist rose and swirled in the humidity, with the drizzle falling and increasing into a steadier run. Unbothered by the moisture, she walked forward, a lone figure cutting through the fog.
Fuck, do I want you.
The mystery of her. The allure of her. I’d never been this suckered by a woman before.
I could close in on her more, but this teasing hesitation that I forced on myself was too thrilling to stop.
She was my target, and I had no right to want her. But try as I might, I couldn’t give up this chase for the forbidden. For the unreachable.
I could taste the sweet anticipation of sneaking up behind her, the heart-pounding excitement of touching her soft skin and holding her close. In my mind’s eye, I saw the glitter of a thrill in her eyes as she realized I had located her again. Like it was a reward for her, too, to be caught by?—
As I followed her around a corner, a man stepped out from the shadows and grabbed her.
“Hey! Let me go!” She shouted it not in panic, but anger, furious that someone could snatch her like this.
I reacted instantly, damning the yards between us. A block was all the gap I’d wanted between us so I wouldn’t lose her. Now I regretted hanging back that far. It took me that much longer to run up to them. It took me that many more minutes to reach this fucker who thought he could put his hands on her.
Rain streaked down faster, blurring my vision as I sprinted. I locked down on them, though, squinting to see. Pumping my arms, slamming my feet down hard, I raced forward.
You’re dead. You are dead , motherfucker.
Low, snarled promises and threats from him failed to make sense to my ears as I darted up close. He spoke to her as he covered her mouth and forced her away with him. But he didn’t get far. She bucked and fought, kicking to get free.
Just as I got there, gun in hand and anger streaking through me to the point that I was a machine of murder, he growled and backhanded her in a harsh slap that sent her falling to the ground. She cried out, holding her hands up to break her fall. The second she dropped down into a nasty puddle, he reared his fist back to punch her into submission.
But I was there. Gritting my teeth, I thrust forward to grab his hand.
Surprise registered on his face as I forced his arm back.
“What the?—”
I hit. An uppercut to his face pushed him staggering toward the wall. I followed up by raising my gun at him. Shooting first would’ve been better, but I hadn’t wanted her to get hurt.
He didn’t let me shoot. Kicking up in a move only those trained in martial arts would know, he sent my gun flying through the air. When he raised his gun, sneering at me with blood leaking from the cut on his lip I’d given him, I ducked and evaded his shot.
This was combat, then. A grisly, bloody, gory scrimmage of hits and kicks. Not a gunfight. He set the conditions, and I’d make him pay dearly for fucking with Isabel at all.
He was the dumbass who’d tried to capture her. And he’d die for it.
He was the moron who thought he could shoot me. And he got a beating for that, losing his gun as we fought.
And he was the idiot who continued to spew one blank threat after another. And he would take his regret for uttering a single word to his death.
Taunting me that he’d rape her. That he’d take her and fuck every hole until she bled. How he’d chop her up and show no mercy.
His voice almost seemed familiar, but in the throes of fighting him, I couldn’t slow down enough to guess whether I might recognize him. I wasn’t from this part of the country. I had confidantes everywhere, but no close acquaintances here.
“You wanna be her fucking hero? Huh?” He got a lucky hit in, right to my ribs. I grunted through the pain and didn’t stagger back.
I wasn’t supposed to be her hero. I was supposed to be her killer.
That was the only reason I was supposed to be in her life. To end her.
I’d be damned if someone else tried to do that before me.
And I wasn’t sold on the idea of following through with it at all now.
Kill Isabel?
I didn’t want to. I was too busy wanting her to excite me. She was the first person to intrigue me, to make me curious for more and more, and I wasn’t in the mood to lose that yet.
Gripping the man’s hair, I yanked his head back and toppled him.
Enough was enough.
If Isabel hadn’t run yet, she’d be soaked and scared.
If she was gone, too terrified by the violence, I had to hunt her down again. And now.
I grabbed my knife from the sheath on my belt and dragged the blade over his neck. Standing behind him, I slit his throat, fisting his wet hair. Before he could try to prolong a single second of his life, I hauled him toward where my gun had fallen and fired two shots down into the top of his head.
He was dead.
He was gone.
Let anyone who saw his corpse know what would happen if they thought to touch Isabel.
Heaving out hard exhales as I caught my breath, I dismissed the flick of water off my face. Drenched and aching, I let my heart slow and my body decompress from the frenzy of the fight.
A whimper sounded to my right.
I whipped my head around.
Isabel sat hunched next to a dumpster. Hugging her knees, she stared at me in shock.
She hadn’t run.
Eyes wide with terror, she shivered and sat in a tight ball.
She was still here.
And as I stepped away from the man who’d touched her, I vowed she would not get away again.