Likely so, but in Laila’s experience, information that had to be bought was often full of half-truths at best.

  “Once we learn where Montilla is holed up, tell Miguel to have his contact pass along our terms for the car’s return. This is where the bargaining chip I told you about comes in. If I explain now, it will not make sense. But information is power and once you know the hole where the fox is hiding—”

  “No.” He charged her way again. “I’m tired of your games. Explain this bargaining chip now.”

  Laila scrambled back, plucking the guns from the nightstand and aiming at him. She had known she wouldn’t be able to put Victor off for long. Her time was running out. “Think, Victor. Would I really mislead you?”

  He stopped coming at her. “I’m beginning to wonder.”

  “What would you do if I have?”

  “I would hunt down your sister, and I would show her no mercy.”

  “Precisely.” So she would have to kill him if he stopped believing her. “You know I would never want that. So I am positive my plan will put you on Montilla’s throne.”

  Victor grumbled. “You promised me information.”

  “And you will get it as soon as you learn where Montilla is. In the meantime, I will walk to the village, blend in, and see if any of his men have come looking for you.”

  Victor tried to dissect her intentions with his stare. “And what then?”

  “If it is not safe here, we leave and take the car with us. But I do not think it wise to keep it in the truck, sitting in plain sight. It looks out of place among vacationers and attracts attention you do not need.”

  A grudging grunt told her that he hadn’t thought of that, but he didn’t disagree. “When you reach town, go see Gustavo Pastrana. He is a mechanic. Tell him I need a favor and to make me space in his warehouse.”

  As much as Laila didn’t want to associate with others on Victor’s behalf, she had to appear like his ally, and it gave her an excuse to put miles between her and Victor. “All right.”

  “While you are in town, pick up food from the market. I am starving.”

  Laila wanted to remind him that she was his partner, not his slave. But that argument would be lost on him. Instead, she lowered her guns and chose a tactic he would understand. “I cannot be your eyes and ears in town if I return here.”

  He mulled that over, then pulled out some bills from his pocket. “True. Besides, others who were once loyal to Emilo will be arriving soon. You go buy some clothes. A hat, too. Disguise yourself. Find a place to stay. Blend with the locals and listen in on them. No one will see you as a threat.”

  As long as Montilla’s hitmen couldn’t tell at a glance that she was the woman who had distracted the security guards so Victor could steal the car, she should be safe. Not only would the sicarios never see her as a threat, they wouldn’t even look at her twice if she seemed like just one of the townsfolk. “That will be best. With this money, I will also buy a phone so I can call you if I hear anything important.”

  Victor glared at her in warning. “Remember… If you betray me, your sister will pay dearly. You know I am well versed in causing pain.”

  He was, along with degradation, humiliation, and terror. “I will do anything to spare Valeria.”

  The smile that stretched across Victor’s face was nothing short of superior. “Go.”

  Laila didn’t give him time to change his mind. Despite the fact the sun would set in less than two hours, she went in search of her clothes and the flip-flops she’d found abandoned at a park on their way to Orlando, then hustled out the door.

  The February afternoon was temperate, much warmer than Louisiana. She’d missed Mexico’s warmth and the tropical vegetation where Trees lived.

  But if you had a choice between the sun and the man, which would you choose?

  Trees, always.

  The sun sank lower as she reached the sleepy little village. Laila found a woman selling clothes from a table leaning against the side of a run-down building. She negotiated the purchase of a flowing, lace-trimmed skirt and a matching blouse, both in white. On the next street over, she picked up more underwear, some toiletries, a floppy hat, sunglasses, and a burner phone. After she donned her new things in the store’s restroom, she spent a little more money on a street taco that tasted like heaven and pocketed the rest of the cash. It bothered her to take anything from Victor, but she was doing a job for him—watching his ass. That should pay well. As far as she was concerned, they were even.

  As she ate, Laila set up the phone, then stared at the plastic device longingly, but she didn’t dare reach out to her sister until she secured a location for the stolen car and found a place to lay her head for the night. And she couldn’t tell Valeria where she’d gone. The less her sister knew, the less danger she would be in.

  What about Trees? Will you call him later, too?

  As much as she ached to, no. What would she say? How could she possibly apologize? Or atone?

  With the final rays of sunlight, she finished eating and sauntered up one of the town’s narrow streets, looking for both Gustavo Pastrana and a place to stay. The mechanic was easy to find. He looked close to her age with tattoos that covered him from his neck to his fingertips. He eyed her with blatant appreciation that made her uncomfortable—until she dropped Victor’s name. Then he was suddenly all business.

  “Is he in town?” Gustavo asked.

  Laila had no idea how much Victor trusted this mechanic. His ink suggested he’d been more than a little involved with a cartel or two in the past. She didn’t remember him from Emilo’s compound, but that meant nothing. Her late brother-in-law had employed men all over his territory. And if Victor intended to let this man hide a rival’s fifty-million-dollar car, didn’t that suggest he trusted Gustavo on some level?

  “Soon,” she hedged just in case, offering a smile to an older man who passed them, eyeing her suspiciously.

  “Papá, finish cleaning inside. I will take care of everything out here,” Gustavo told his father in rapid-fire Spanish.

  The older man merely scowled and nodded before disappearing inside.

  Through a window, Laila watched the old man wipe down a counter and reach for the ringing phone as Gustavo went on. “Don’t mind him. He is getting grumpy with old age. So what does Victor need?”

  “Do you have a space in your warehouse to store a car?”

  Gustavo lit a cigarette and took a long drag. “What can you tell me about the vehicle?”

  Why did he want to know? “Nothing. He simply sent me ahead to ask if you had room.”

  The mechanic looked her up and down. “He is fucking you, I presume. You’re a pretty, tasty treat, after all.”

  Everything inside Laila urged her to step back. Hell, to turn and leave. But since she’d been Victor’s possession once, she knew his expectations. So would this man, most likely. Cowering from any of his friends would only earn her ridicule and punishment, even allowing this man access to her body. She would be better off playing along.

  “Naturally. Can you help him?”

  He took a drag of his cigarette and blew out his smoke. “Yeah, tell him to bring it.”

  She nodded, hoping the car would be secure here. “I will let him know.”

  Laila thanked him, then quickly called Victor with the news.

  “Good. I’ll bring the truck,” he told her. “Are Montilla’s thugs looking for me around town?”

  “I have heard nothing yet.” Though she hadn’t exactly asked, and it was entirely likely there were eyes and ears everywhere. “But I am still gathering information.”

  Victor grunted, then hung up.

  Grateful that was over, she wandered down the street, toward what looked like a local hotel. The pastel building was a bright, two-story structure, surrounded by lazily swaying palms. A series of tiki huts outside added to the resort-like feel. The one beside the pool seemed to double as the bar. The other, just beside it, had been set aside for relaxation and games.

  She bypassed them and went in search of the office. Hopefully, it wouldn’t be too expensive to stay here, since it was the closest hotel to town. The others were near the beach.

  As she approached the little office with the loud air conditioner humming from the wall, she passed under an awning. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a pair of men emerge from one of the rooms. One looked well-built and athletic as he settled a hat on his head. But it was the other who caught her attention, broad and startlingly tall and achingly familiar.

  Trees.

  Shock sucked the air from her lungs. He was here? How had he found her? And how would she muster the strength to walk away when all she wanted to do was run into his arms?

  For his sake, she had to.

  As if he was attuned to her, Trees suddenly turned. His stare zeroed in on her, swallowing her whole in a glance.

  Her heart, her breaths, her thoughts all stopped. She felt pinned in place, as if he saw right through her disguise.

  No, that was her paranoia. Trees couldn’t possibly know it was her. She wore different clothes and shoes. She had donned sunglasses and a hat. At most, he would think she was a stranger who looked like her. But the longer she returned his stare, the more suspicious he would be. She needed to act like a local out for an evening walk.

  On shaking legs, she pivoted away and headed back toward Gustavo’s garage. Her heart roared in her ears, threatening to beat out of her chest, as she lifted her sunglasses higher onto her nose, then adjusted her hat in the breeze. She prayed she looked as if she didn’t have a care, because she could hardly breathe past her apprehension.

  Trees couldn’t stay in this village. Ugly things would happen. The consequences would be too terrible.

  Then she remembered that Victor was heading this way. And if he saw Trees… Well, there was no way Victor had forgotten the man who had blown his brother’s head off mere days ago.

  Dios mío.

  Trembling, Laila glanced over her shoulder, hoping Trees had looked past her. But he was charging straight for her on those ridiculously long legs.

  Panic hit her. If she turned back to him, he would know it was her. If she continued forward, she would lead him into danger. On either side of the street, she saw nothing but houses closed up for afternoon siestas.

  She had nowhere to go—and she had to act fast.

  But was there really a choice? Trees had to come first.

  She turned around, determined to prevent Victor from spotting him during his drive into town and deciding it was a fabulous time for revenge. Trees was already on her. She ran into his chest with a gasp.

  “Laila.” He plucked the sunglasses from her face as the wind blew her hat away.

  She was too ensnared by his nearness to protest.

  He looked more intense and even more manly than she remembered. And more beloved. He cupped her shoulders, fastening his stare on her, his green eyes so sharp and full of concern. Laila froze. Every nerve stood on end. Heat sizzled everywhere he touched her. She’d missed him far more than she wanted to admit and ached to press herself against him, to throw herself into his arms and give herself completely to him.

  But that was her emotion talking. She couldn’t let her feelings rule her. They weren’t real. The coming danger was. “You shouldn’t be here. Go. Please. Return to Louisiana. Do not look for me again.”

  “I’m not leaving without you. Tell me what happened. Why did you take off? You could have stayed in the panic room and been safe.”

  She couldn’t waste time explaining that Victor had threatened to burn his house down. It was more important to persuade him to leave this town and this country—and her—behind.

  “I did not want to be safe. I wanted to be free. Let me go.”

  “Whatever you’re doing here, whatever reason you had for walking out, I know it had something to do with keeping your family safe. Ensuring that isn’t your job; it’s mine. I’m going to make sure you, your sister, and your nephew are protected. All you have to do is tell me what’s going on.”

  No wonder she’d been falling for this man. He was noble and watchful. Kind and heroic. And she hadn’t believed in him until it was too late.

  You never know what you’ve got until it’s gone…

  And like a fool, she’d spent so much of her time with him scheming to escape. She had only ever let herself believe in him for a few moments in the dark, in secret, when he’d made love to her after killing Hector. For that one night, she had closed her eyes, pretended to be a woman without a violent past, and given herself to Trees completely.

  Laila shook her head. “There is nothing to tell. I do not want you here. Go and leave me be.”

  “Trees?” the other man in the cowboy hat called with a bob of his head up the street.

  On the corner, Gustavo stood, watching their every move.

  Laila tried not to panic, but the mechanic would call Victor, who was likely already on his way. There would be violence, and since not many men were as tall as Trees, Victor would know immediately who had come to town and why.

  Before she could wriggle away, Trees plucked her off the ground. As if she weighed nothing, he carried her between the nearest two houses, ignoring her struggles, until they were out of Gustavo’s sight.

  He pushed her against the wall, palms beside her head, caging her in. “I will never leave you. I will never stop coming for you. So tell me why you went with Victor, let me fix it, then I’ll take you home, Laila. And I’ll love you for the rest of my life.”

  His words wrenched her heart. There was nothing she wanted more than to throw herself against him, arms and legs clinging, as she lost herself in him and pretended danger didn’t exist.

  Impossible.

  Tears welled in her eyes. She tried to blink them away, but she wasn’t quick enough. As one rolled down her cheek, she bit her lip to hold in a sob and tried to wrench away before he saw her weakness.

  Too late.

  “Laila.” His rough voice caressed her. He cradled her head in his massive hands, fingers thrusting into her hair. “Little one…”

  She was powerless to stop him when he surged forward and covered her with his big body, plastering her against the wall. He captured her lips with his and swallowed her whimper as she opened helplessly to him, welcoming the press of his mouth and the drive of his tongue. She clung to him. As she drowned in his kiss, she dug her nails into his shoulders, silently begging for more, as she writhed to get even closer. For one selfish moment, she ignored everything, fearing that now would have to last her for the rest of her life.

  Trees groaned as he plunged deeper. The sound reverberated through her body. Time stood still. Everywhere he touched her, he seared her. And she welcomed it. Even if the sun was hotter in Mexico, this was the first time she’d felt warm since Trees had left for his mission two and a half endless days ago. Laila basked in him, breathed with him, welcomed the blistering heat of him.

  If she hadn’t been sure how she felt about Trees before, now it was clear. She loved him. Granted, she had nothing to compare these feelings to. She’d always loved crisp morning breezes in spring, vanilla in fresh-baked cookies, and sea foam on the sand. But this was so much stronger. She loved him as completely as she loved Valeria or Jorge, but this love came with a passion that was unlike anything she knew. She didn’t have words to describe it, but having felt it, having acknowledged it, she knew she would never be the same.

  Together, they panted and clung. Trees dragged his hands down her back until he cupped her backside and lifted her. She couldn’t stop herself from spreading her legs and welcoming him in between, wrapping her arms around him tighter, and, since she could never speak the words aloud, telling Trees she loved him with her kiss.

  He yanked away and stared into her eyes, breaths rough. “Come back with me.”

  Laila was so tempted. Some part of her wanted to rail that stopping the cartels wasn’t her responsibility, that she had already suffered at the hands of Tierra Caliente. Why should she now have to rip out her heart and play the hero? It wasn’t fair. Unfortunately, life wasn’t. If she wanted safety and justice for her family, there was a price. To protect Valeria and Jorge, the cost would be her heart.

  “I cannot.” She pushed him away. “You have to go.”

  “Goddamn it, Laila. Tell me what the fuck is going on. I’ll—”

  “Buddy, there’s a truck coming. It looks like the one Trevor and Ghost said they spotted before it disappeared across the border,” the cowboy said, standing less than a dozen feet from them, blocking the view of anyone on the street.

  Terror chilled Laila’s veins. Victor was here. Gustavo would fill him in. Then all hell would break loose. “Go. Please. Now. Don’t let Victor see you.”

  “Where is that son of a bitch?” Trees craned his head around to scan the street, all while covering her with his body.

  If they had more time and if she wasn’t convinced that Trees would put himself in danger to save her, she would have spilled everything to him—why she’d left, what her plans were, how she saw this nightmare ending. She might also make promises to return to his life, his arms, and his bed. But if she said any of those things, he would not only risk himself, he would do it full-throttle, holding nothing back, until the cartel put him in the ground. If Victor couldn’t find the smarts or the guts to kill Trees, Montilla would. Emilo’s ruthless father definitely had the resources and the cojones to get it done.

  “Do not do this. Please. Leave it alone.”

  Trees turned back to her with a scowl. He wasn’t going to let her go, despite her pleading, despite the cowboy telling him danger was approaching. “Like hell. Why did you help Ramos steal Montilla’s Ferrari?”

  She would have to make him want to leave.

  Laila took a deep breath and forced herself to look him in the eye. “Because he wanted it, and I thought he would look sexy driving it.”

  “Sexy?”

  Something inside her died as she forced herself to lie to him. “Do you always believe every sad story a woman tells you? I have been with Victor for a long time. I am attached to him. When he came for me, I saw the chance to return home and resume my life. Of course I took it.”