Chapter 25
Cal fought the need to grab Io and run. Every nerve in his body screamed to drag her out of the line of fire, shield her, get her safe.
It was also exactly the wrong thing to do, and he knew it.
His thinking brain fought with the caveman instinct, and he fisted his hands to keep them from betraying him.
“Do you think the other duo from the market are around, too?” Io asked.
She sounded calm. Too fucking calm. Her voice was steady, clinical, scrutinizing the situation as if they weren’t being stalked through the streets of Trujillo. That calmness made his adrenaline spike harder. He fought that, too. He was trained, damn it. He wasn’t giving in to stupid urges.
“I don’t see them,” he said, forcing his tone level, “but that doesn’t mean there aren’t others in the area or that they didn’t call for reinforcements.”
Casually, as if they were only in the shopping district to stroll and check out window displays, Io pointed at a pair of shoes. “They probably bribed employees at various cafés, got the call, and Petrova sent a couple men to verify it was us.”
Damn it, why was she trying to dissect how they were found?
That was for later. For after she was safe.
Cal reined in the anger. That was part of the adrenaline spike, and it needed to be controlled, too.
If he couldn’t stay in command of himself, he wouldn’t be able to protect Io, and that was mission one as far as he was concerned.
With more calm than he felt, Cal said, “It’s the most likely scenario.”
Io lowered her arm. “I think we’ll meander toward the business quarter. We have more than an hour until the stores open and there isn’t enough activity here to hide us.”
“Copy that.”
She gripped his hand, firm and controlled. It was a warning. He was the professional and it was Io trying to keep him from acting impulsively. Cal squeezed her, a silent reassurance that he wasn’t going to do something stupid.
But he would protect Io. He wasn’t going to be responsible for the death of someone else he loved. Once was enough.
She tugged him into motion. Cal kept his eyes moving, scanning every reflection, every movement, every shadow. At times, the sunlight bounced off the windows and blinded him, but he didn’t put on sunglasses. He might miss something.
Boris and Bullwinkle stayed back, far enough that someone with less training than he had might have missed them. They weren’t chasing them, just following.
Observing. Waiting.
Waiting for what? Reinforcements? The order to take Io? Somewhere with fewer people so that there would be fewer witnesses to their attempt to kidnap her?
Io strolled calmly, occasionally stopping to look in a store window, but he knew better.
She was studying the area every time she paused.
Every line of her body said she was focused, in control, and thinking tactically.
Which is what he should be doing. She also kept them headed in the general direction of the business district.
Cal took a deep breath and started locking down. He might be holding hands with the most important person in his world, but he’d be fucking useless if he didn’t get his shit together.
Compartmentalize.
He’d done it before in worse circumstances than this. Emotion got people killed. If he couldn’t do better, he should step aside and let Ski take over.
Io paused at the window of a jewelry store.
They were close enough to the corporate corridor that the crowd was thicker.
Horns blared, buses belched exhaust as they chugged by, filled with commuters, and a few vendors began to set up for the influx of shoppers that would start arriving with the store openings.
Chaos pressed in and Cal hung on to Io more tightly, not wanting to lose her. She glanced at him and her lips curved. “I still only see our two friends,” she said.
Before agreeing, he did a sweep, using the store window. His gaze went past it before he stopped and took a second look. “Tan sedan. Five o’clock. It’s moving at a crawl and that’s not how anyone drives in Puerto Jardin.”
“Got it. The windows are tinted.”
And with the glare of the sunlight, they wouldn’t see much even if the windows were clear. “Let’s assume reinforcements.”
“Copy.”
Her calmness sharpened his focus, adrenaline surging.
She understood the danger—he knew she did—but she trusted him to keep them alive.
He drew on training, on muscle memory, forcing his body into control.
If the assholes knew they’d been spotted, they might act sooner rather than later.
The more time he and Io had, the better.
“I don’t like how they’re stalking us,” Io said as easily as if she were discussing a TV show. “Want to bet there are more men ahead of us, trying to pin us between them and their comrades?”
“I’m not taking that bet.” Cal’s voice was tight, but steady.
He measured his words, choosing a tone that would keep Io aligned with him, not bristling against him.
“If you’re open to a suggestion, I recommend picking up our pace.
The sooner we can lose ourselves in a heavy crowd, the better.
There are too many opportunities to ambush us. ”
Too many alleys and closed stores with recessed doorways. And very few people would involve themselves in trouble, especially with him dressed like a mercenary.
“Agreed,” Io said.
As they walked, Cal glanced over his shoulder. The sedan was closer now and his gut tightened. The passenger window was rolled down partway, maybe to allow the man sitting there to issue orders more easily.
There was no mistaking him for anyone else.
His gut clenched as the man leaned forward, his gaze was locked on Io.
He remembered the briefing, the picture he’d seen.
The man was wiry, with dirty-blond hair, and pale blue eyes.
Soulless eyes. The kind of eyes that made it clear he was a predator and viewed everyone else as potential prey.
Or in Io’s case, actual prey.
“Petrova is riding shotgun in the sedan,” Cal reported. His muscles were coiled, ready to respond to any movement. Anyone who got too close to Io.
“Copy.” Io’s hand tightened around his, reminding him that dragging her into an alley and confronting Petrova’s men head-on would only get him killed and her kidnapped. Lock it down. Lock it down, moron.
Her calm demeanor helped him stay focused. Crossing in the middle of the street was dangerous in Trujillo, but Cal had a bad feeling about the upcoming intersection. “Are you up to jaywalking?”
Io glanced at him, and he wasn’t sure what she saw on his face, but a furrow formed between her brows. “Let’s go for it,” Io agreed.
“Follow me.” His pulse hammered as they darted between cars and a few trucks.
Horns blared, there was yelling and curses flew.
He kept going and so did Io. She was right beside him, moving steadily, not becoming distracted.
More honking behind them. Cal didn’t need to glance back to know Boris and Bullwinkle had followed them.
A bus braked hard, the squeal of tires a warning scream. Cal ran, pulling Io along with him. She was closest to the vehicle.
His pulse hammered, lungs burning, but he kept his stride controlled until they hit the opposite sidewalk. Relief flickered, but there wasn’t time to savor it. The sedan was already adjusting, edging forward, as Petrova issued orders, his eyes locked on Io.
Io tugged him into the crowd, mostly businessmen. It didn’t do much to hide a woman in a red T-shirt and a man in camo gear.
But there was a press of bodies around them. With a little luck, none of them worked for Petrova. Every bump against his shoulder, every jostle, put him on edge. No one was hurting Io. No was grabbing her. Not as long as he was alive.
There was another squeeze of his hand and he glanced down at Io. Her lips curved, and he realized she was reassuring him. Fuck. He tightened the leash on his instincts, forcing discipline back into place.
The sedan surged ahead, trying to cut them off at the intersection up ahead. He didn’t think Petrova's driver would make it, not with all the traffic. It was the sight of Rocky and an unknown man at the corner that made Cal’s hair stand on end.
His instincts demanded he protect Io, that he fight for her. His training insisted on restraint. On getting Io out of here. Heart versus head.
The memory of the last time he’d failed someone he loved stormed through his mind. Elena had died because he hadn’t considered all the contingencies. Because he hadn’t bothered to think. Not again. Never again. Not with Io.
He ran scenarios. Glanced over his shoulder for more data. Boris and Bullwinkle behind them. Rocky and Snidely in front of them, with Petrova's car angling to join them.
The crowd parted long enough for him to see Petrova was out of the sedan and he was headed their way, too. Cal halted, instincts flaring. The trap was closing, and he saw every angle of it.
His breathing came harsh and shallow. Every nerve screamed for him to protect his woman. The press of bodies around them was supposed to be a shield, but it felt like a cage. Businessmen jostled past, muttering complaints about them stopping.
He caught Bullwinkle’s reflection in the shop window to his left. His eyes were locked on Io. Boris trailed him by a few steps, closer to the street. In case they tried to risk the traffic again.
Calmly, carefully, steering them. They weren’t being chased, they were being herded.
Cal scanned again, but they faced a closed women’s clothing store and next to that was a closed mobile phone store. Ahead, Rocky and Snidely waited at the corner. They appeared casual, but their eyes were scanning, their focus sharp.
Io pulled him into motion. Cal hesitated, then went along with her. Either they ran into Petrova, who sauntered toward them, or they got caught by the two men trailing them.
Not a lot of good choices here.
They’re closing the net.
Cal’s chest was tight, but Io’s hand was firmly around his and her stride was steady.
She remained calm, her gaze scanning as she calculated angles, exits, and options.
He should be calculating, too, not letting worst-case scenarios intrude.
But the thought of losing her sharpened every calculation, every move.
The crowd thinned. They lost their shield. Too much open space. Too few bodies to hide them. Petrova smiled, but it was cold.
There was nowhere to go. The horns seemed distant, the scent of exhaust fumes sharpened before fading. All his senses were locked on the Russians. On protecting Io.
Five against one. He’d have to keep all of them busy while Io made a run for it. That was the hard part, but if he could put up a good fight long enough….
The street cleared out further. Given the situation in Trujillo, they’d probably sensed trouble and moved to get out of the line of fire.
“We have some cover here,” Cal said softly to Io. There was a bus stop bench, a box truck, and a fire hydrant. Not much but better than what lay ahead.
“Keep walking,” Io ordered.
Cal obeyed, but every step brought them closer to Petrova. He was keeping Io safe. He would not fail like he’d failed Elena. Without innocent bystanders, he could pull his pistol.
And Io would be caught in the crossfire.
They reached the end of the box truck. There wasn’t another car parked at the curb until they reached the tan sedan. And they wouldn’t make it that far. Not with Boris and Bullwinkle gaining ground. Not with Petrova and the other two flunkies coming toward them.
He was tense, too tense, but he tried to free his hand from Io’s. She held on tighter.
“Not yet,” she told him, voice low, but firm.
Cal followed her orders. His instincts screamed to break the net, but Io’s cooler head kept him leashed. He hated it, but she was right. They wouldn’t survive this without discipline.
He glanced toward the street, but the morning rush had cleared out and traffic was zipping at double the speed it moved at the first time they dashed across.
That wasn’t an option.
Rocky drew a pistol. So did his sidekick. A glance verified that the two behind them had done the same thing.
Time had just run out.