Chapter 29
Cal took charge. Io was in no shape to be giving orders.
PTSD had its teeth in her. She might not believe she had it, but he knew better.
He’d seen the signs—the flashbacks, the panic spikes, the way Fuentes’s sudden reappearance had gutted her composure.
At least she was smart enough to cede the leadership role without a fight.
Tightening his grip on her hand, Cal steered her toward the exit with measured steps. “Keep looking forward. I’ve got Fuentes. We want to blend in.”
Io nodded, but her face was pale, her lips thin. She was trying, but she was battling a panic attack. Her fingers trembled in his, and Cal could only hope she was strong enough to put it on the back burner until they were safe.
The Russians were circling the statue. Their search was deliberate, their movements predatory. Cal’s gut clenched. Megatron and Shredder were fast and efficient. He and Io weren’t going to get clear.
Too many civilians. Too little cover. Fuck.
The assholes wouldn’t worry about bystanders and they sure as hell wouldn’t worry about the cops.
The police force was understaffed, and so corrupt, no one bothered to call them.
Cal did another sweep, but all he and Io had to use as cover was a few light poles and a scattering of concrete benches.
If they made it closer to the street, they’d have a palm tree.
He glanced at Io. Her body was rigid, but she was doing what he’d asked—keeping her gaze forward and moving at a normal pace.
And as he watched her, she looked back at Fuentes again.
Only it wasn’t the woman’s eyes her gaze connected with, it was Megatron. As Cal watched, recognition dawned on the man’s face. He knew who Io was.
Immediately, his stride shifted into a trot as he headed directly for them.
“Move. Now.” He gripped Io’s hand and picked up the pace.
Gunfire cracked across the plaza. A woman screamed, some people ran, some froze, some tried to find something to hide them. Cal pulled Io down behind a concrete bench and drew his own pistol. He couldn’t return fire. He couldn’t risk hitting an innocent.
Shielding her with his body, he waited.
When the mobsters were close enough that no one else was at risk, then he could shoot.
More fire and Cal shifted, almost wrapping his body around his wife. A round hit the bench, sending a chip of concrete flying. He turned his head, but it hit his cheek.
His attention returned to the men.
“You’re bleeding,” Io said. She sounded furious.
He gave her a millisecond of attention before refocusing on the Russians. Io was no longer on the verge of a panic attack. Not anymore. Now she was royally pissed off.
Good. An angry Wild Thing wasn’t going to lose herself in a flashback.
She shifted and he took his eyes away from the mobsters again. Just in time to see her draw a small pistol from an ankle holster. “Stay low,” he ordered softly. All he needed was Io popping up to return fire.
“We’re a team. I’ve got your back.” Her attention was centered on the Russians. She held her weapon like a pro.
“Team,” he agreed, relieved that she had control back. She wasn’t shooting. Wasn’t chancing hitting a civilian. She knew what she was doing. It eased his worry about her.
Crouching behind a concrete bench, waiting for the assholes to reach them sucked. But there were still people frozen in fear. Still people running this way and that as the Russians moved. No good choices except to wait for them to cross the plaza.
And one of the people standing in the open was Fuentes.
What the fuck?
Wouldn’t the woman who kidnapped Io be savvy enough, experienced enough to take cover? Had Io misidentified the woman? She’d been drugged. Maybe the woman had similarities to Fuentes, but was someone else?
“They’re only shooting at strategic moments,” Io observed softly.
“They want you alive, Thing. Need to make sure they don’t hit you.”
Cal continued to track the Russians’ movements, every muscle coiled, ready to leap into action. Another crack split the air, a round sparking off the bench. This time multiple stone chips flew. He took more hits to his face, but Io was safe. That was what mattered.
“Now you have more cuts that are bleeding.”
“I’m fine.” Cal kept his gaze on Megatron and Shredder. “They’re not deep and we got bigger trouble.”
“I know. We’re pinned and they’re closing in.”
Yeah, she nailed it. There might be a way out of it, though. “You take off. I’ll keep them from following you. They won’t shoot you while you run. Petrova would kill them if you die.”
“Teammates stick together.”
“Io—”
“No, Cal, I’m not leaving you. They don’t want you alive. Besides, they don’t have to kill me. If they wing me and I can’t run—”
It was his turn to interrupt. “Winging you is a huge risk. If you moved the wrong way at the wrong time—” Cal stopped talking and curled his body around his wife as a couple more rounds were shot their direction.
“Damn it,” Cal muttered. It felt like hours had passed, but it hadn’t even been two minutes yet.
There were still people frozen in place, too scared to move.
Still people running to the other spokes, trying to leave the plaza.
And Fuentes still stood where she’d been, unmoving as the Russians went past her. The men didn’t glance twice at her.
The mobsters reached the sidewalk where he and Io were trapped. They were midway between the street and the park, the bench their only protection.
As Cal watched, Fuentes began to walk, only she was following the men. That should indicate she was working with them, but that didn’t feel right. “When I give the signal, you run,” he ordered. “No arguments.”
“Cal—”
“No. I have—” He stopped talking as he watched Fuentes pull a Taser out of her bag. Not just any Taser either. One of the double-shot models. Was she going to take him out first and then go after Io? “Do you see that? When I tell you to run, you fucking run.”
Cal got his pistol ready. If he had to shoot Fuentes to protect Io, he would. The Taser had a max range of around thirty-five feet. She didn’t have to be that close to deploy it.
Fuentes moved with purpose, closing the distance between her and the Russians.
She moved calmly. Confidently. In three strides, she was well within range.
The Taser snapped. The first one hit Megatron.
He jerked violently, his pistol clattering to the concrete before he fell.
Shredder didn’t have time to turn before the second Taser hit him.
Cal didn’t hesitate. “Now! Move, Io!”
She listened, surging to her feet and running toward the street. He kept his weapon trained on Fuentes until Io had a lead, but the woman didn’t advance. She merely smiled at him and nodded.
What the fuck?
His jaw tightened as he backed toward the street, weapon still raised. Fuentes had just risked her life to help them. The same woman who’d imprisoned Io. Kept her drugged for a week. Now she was saving their asses?
It didn’t make sense.
Cal reached the street. He turned and hurried to catch up to Io. Sirens finally sounded in the distance, but they’d be long gone before the police arrived.
His pulse hammered as the adrenaline continued to surge. Why the fuck had Fuentes helped them? And what did it mean?
Io dabbed at Cal’s cuts, the medical supplies she’d bought for his arm spread out across the foot of the hotel room bed. He sat in a hard wooden chair, while she crouched beside him, tending him. “Do you feel how close this came to your eye?”
She was angry. Not at Cal, at herself. She’d crumbled at the sight of Fuentes.
“I’m okay, Thing,” his voice was calm, easy. He was worried about her spiraling if he didn’t moderate his tone.
She’d been the weak link. He could have lost his eye. He could have lost his life. The mob wanted her alive, but Cal was expendable. That hadn’t stopped him from pressing her against the bench, from winding his body around hers to make sure she wasn’t at risk.
She moved to the next cut, using gauze to apply antiseptic. Cal tensed, but he didn’t flinch or hiss or give any other indication of it stinging, although Io knew it did. “I’m sorry I fell apart on you at the park. I’m sorry it put you in danger.”
Cal’s hand went to her chin and he tipped her face until their gazes met. “You said we’re a team. That means we pick each other up. It was my turn to help you. It’s okay to accept support, you know that right?”
Io scowled. “Would any of your teammates become a useless blob of flesh like I did? I don’t think so.”
His thumb caressed her face. “You have PTSD, Thing. You saw a woman who made you think of Fuentes and you reacted. That doesn’t make you useless, it makes you human.”
“What do you mean by made me think of Fuentes? That was Fuentes.”
Cal didn’t respond, and Io wasn’t sure if it was because she was applying antiseptic near his mouth or if there was another reason. “I’ll never forget her face, Cal.”
“You were drugged when you saw her and the woman at the park? The only reason why we got out of there without having to shoot our way clear is because she deployed a Taser on the Russians. If that was Fuentes, why would she help us? Why wouldn’t she try to grab you?”
“I don’t know,” Io admitted reluctantly as she finished cleaning the last of Cal’s cuts. “But her agenda has never been clear. She never questioned me while I was her guest.”
Io stood, tossed the bloody gauze in the trash, and began to pace.
Why had she helped them at the plaza? Cal was right about that being strange.
Of course, she was making assumptions about the woman’s motives in kidnapping her.
Maybe she wasn’t after the treasure. Maybe she’d grabbed her for another reason.
A la Sombra de la Misericordia Radiante.
Maybe Fuentes was after the painting. Maybe she believed that the Treasure of Trujillo would never be found. It was referred to as the Lost Treasure for a reason. From the day it had gone missing, people had searched for it without any luck. Why expend energy on it?
But Io had never heard of the painting before finding that scrap of paper, so it didn’t make sense that Fuentes had grabbed her over that.
Cal took her shoulders, stopping her midstride, and turned her toward him. “Give me a percentage, Thing. How certain are you that the woman in the park was Fuentes?”
Instead of spitting out an immediate answer, Io took time to think it through, to remember the woman standing over the bed.
There’d been several times where the drug had worn off enough for Io to try to escape and her vision had been clear.
Until another dose was administered. She thought of the woman in the plaza.
Hair color was easy to change, so she focused on her features.
“I’m about ninety-five percent sure,” she said at last.
She expected him to press her, but Cal nodded. “We have another mystery to solve then, Velma. What the fuck is Fuentes up to?”
Io felt her heart somersault in her chest. He believed her. That easily. She knew Cal, he wasn’t just agreeing to appease her. If she was that sure, he was sure, too. Sliding her arms around his waist, she snuggled into him, pressing her face against his shoulder.
“Fuentes is the least of our issues.” Her voice was muffled, but she could have lost Cal today and she wasn’t ready to let go of him. “The Russians found us again and it was too easy.”
“I know.” Cal wrapped his arms around her, holding her as tightly as she held him.
“That plaza? It’s one of the places where the team takes check-ins sometimes.
There’s also a mercenary bar and the open-air market and a few other locations we use on a rotating basis.
I think they’re searching those areas, it’s the only thing that makes sense. ”
Io stiffened. “Do they know what you really are?”
“I doubt it. Remember that part of the team rescued you from Fuentes’s house. The Russians turned up before Oz, Ski, and Rusty could get you clear. Then I was with you when we nearly got cornered at the market and they could connect me to those three.”
“And with those associations, they could figure out your usual hangouts and decide to routinely patrol them.”
Cal’s lips were against her temple when he said, “I think so, yeah, but I’ll let BD know what happened, just in case. Can’t assume anything, not with Petrova having access to his boss’s resources.”
Instead of responding, Io remained quiet, pressing closer against him.
She could feel his heartbeat, feel him breathing, and something inside her unclenched.
He could have died today, trying to protect her while she was having a meltdown over Fuentes.
Was this why he’d pushed so hard? Why he’d refused her compromise? Why he’d walked away?
She could have lost him in a way much more permanent than their marriage ending.
And Cal shielded her without hesitation. He knew exactly what he was doing.
Her throat went tight with tears she wouldn’t allow herself to shed, but she clung more tightly to Cal. Whatever happened next in this mess, Io knew one thing with absolute certainty.
She loved him, and the fear of losing him was a blade twisting under her ribs.