19. Miguel
19
MIGUEL
I ndecision flashed in her brown eyes. Warm but flinty with anger, she stared up at me and rubbed her wrist.
I knew she was debating it all.
Running or staying.
I didn’t have to ask if she was thinking about how fast she could get out of here. Assuming she was about to bolt, I regretted that moment of relief I let myself feel last night. When I came back to the room and saw her sleeping on the bed, I inhaled a deep breath of satisfaction.
That she’d listened to me and came here to wait for me. That she wanted to stay with me or nearby. If it wasn’t clear to her that it was in her own best interests to stick with me, after I’d saved her life multiple times, I wasn’t sure what else could be motivating her to question all that I told her.
Looking at her sleeping, I tried to shake off those doubts and angry suspicions that man made me feel as he tried to choke the life out of me. He’d instilled too many questions in my mind about her, encouraging me to question whether she was working with Louis or not. Whether she’d lied to me about not knowing anything.
I showered and lay on the couch last night, reminding myself that it wasn’t my job to question the need for any target’s death. I was just the hitman, there to do the dirty work. Since spotting her and falling instantly like this, I had to try to justify why I couldn’t do my job of killing her. I was flummoxed with this need to prove her worth, to show that she didn’t need to be kidnapped or killed if she was innocent. Whether using her as a pawn to lure Louis out of hiding would even work if they were estranged and no longer significant in each other’s life.
That was why I got up and cuffed her to the bed, needing the reassurance that she would be here this morning to talk to me and give me some answers.
I couldn’t rely on my judgments anymore, not when they were all colored by this deep attraction and desire to keep her close. Obsessed with her already, I had to take steps to ensure I could think straight later about all of this.
Now, as she rubbed her wrists and frowned at me, I had to wonder about it all over again. If she could still try to run and leave me, what would it take to convince her that I was looking out for her and wanting to keep her safe? What would it take for her to convince herself that she was wasting both of our time by running and trying to hide?
“Don’t, Isabel. Don’t even think about it. Don’t try to run.”
She stood, narrowing her eyes at me. Through the anger that showed so clearly on her face, I detected the concern she couldn’t fully mask. She was worried, alarmed by the fact that I’d been shot. Shocked, too, by the return of violence in her proximity.
“I will find you again.”
She opened and closed her mouth.
“And you will give me the answers I need.”
Flinging her hand up, she shook her head. “This again? That’s why you handcuffed me to the fucking bed?”
“I need answers to keep you safe.”
She furrowed her brow, looking past me and wincing at the sight out there. “But I don’t have any answers. I am nothing to Louis and he is nothing to me. I have nothing to tell you.”
Then why would that man say he had to end Louis’s woman? His femme fatale?
“What will it take for you to believe me, Miguel?” She gestured at the mess in the living room. “I have no clue how to even process this. This isn’t who I am. This isn’t my life. I know nothing about Louis, and he has never cared to keep tabs on me.”
“We can discuss this later.” I grimaced as I stepped to the side, giving up the foolish urge to hold her and hug her, to comfort her somehow. Instead, I forced through the pain in my ankle from landing a poorly aimed kick at that intruder who’d come to kill her.
Or me.
Probably her. I heard her when she admitted this wasn’t anything she was used to, but there was no way either of us could deny the very real and very clear fact that someone wanted her dead.
That she was Louis Flores’s daughter and that he’d gotten mixed up with the wrong people one too many times.
I limped, unable to fully hold my weight on my ankle, and she reached over to help me upright.
“We will discuss this later,” I said again as I continued toward the dresser, letting her come with me at my side. Her cool, soft hands stayed on my back as if she worried I’d topple.
She’s not running. She’s staying.
“But not here.” I met her gaze as I grabbed a shirt for her to throw over that red dress. Like a flag for a bull, it was too noticeable, too recognizable in the light of the day for anyone else lining up to take a shot at her next.
“All that noise won’t go unnoticed. Multiple gunshots will have security rushing here any second, and that’s why when I say we need to go?—”
“But you’re bleeding.”
I huffed a bitter laugh even though I was touched by her concern. “I’m still standing.”
“You need help, Miguel.” She took the button-up shirt I thrust at her and shoved her arms into the sleeves. Brow furrowed, face pinched with worry, she kept a close eye on me.
“I don’t need help .” I lowered my chin to look at where the bullet had grazed over my skin. Peeling my hand up, I winced at the steady stream of blood leaving me. “I just need stitches.”
“Which I can’t do.” She tugged the shirt over her and grabbed her small clutch. As she leaned over to jam it into the cargo pockets of my shorts, she stared at me, so concerned but not freaking out.
She’s not running. She’s still here…
I was gripped and alarmed by how much that fact mattered. Keeping Isabel with me wasn’t just a defiant action against the hit that I was supposed to fulfill. It was my mission. My purpose.
“We’ll go and?—”
Holding my arm, she eased me into walking next to her and letting me lean on her while I babied my ankle. “Where? Where can we go and be safe?”
“I’m not sure.”
We hobbled out of the room, and I tried to shield her view of the gore.
“I’m not thinking past the first step of getting the fuck away from this.”
She nodded.
She’s not running.
The more I let the phrase feed through me, the stronger and more determined to overcome this I became.
Dizziness hit me as we got in the elevator, but I closed my eyes and breathed through it. I wouldn’t admit it, but I was losing too much damn blood.
On top of all the running, fighting, and getting injured, I was suffering from a crappy lack of sleep to feel halfway refreshed and recharged to keep on fighting like this. Fighting to keep her alive and with me.
But she’s not running. She’s right here, with me.
Isabel pushed the button to move the elevator again. Her movement jostled me slightly, but she quickly wrapped her arm around me again, holding me tight.
“I have an idea.”
I grunted a weak, wry laugh as exhaustion threatened to drop me to my knees. “Good.” I sighed and willed this thing to move faster. “Because I’ve got none.”
My only idea was to run with her. To keep her alive and at my side forever.
But I had no clue how to make it happen when it seemed I was far from the only person dispatched to kill her.