I like my life, and if something happened to the Klan heir on my watch, I would lose it. No help from you is worth that.” Tanner gritted his teeth like he was going to argue, but when the guard signaled for us to move, he cursed under his breath and dragged me into the mouth of the forest. He yanked on my arm so strongly that I wasn’t sure I’d keep up with him. He was pissed. I could see that. But pissed at the situation? Or the fact he had to stay with me? If that was so, why protect me? Unless it was so the deal wasn’t broken with my father . . . Was that his motivation? Why did I care if it was?
We didn’t stop, instead diving deeper into the forest. My ankles strained with every step I took; my shoes were not appropriate for hiking. But we kept going . . . and all the time Tanner didn’t release my hand. I should have been watching for threats, but instead I watched him as his eyes roved around the forest, never letting down his guard. I knew he must have been trained for this somehow. The way he was acting, it was like he knew how to keep safe. American military, maybe?
Up ahead, my father’s man moved swiftly along the uneven path that led to one of the many safe houses my father had around this land. My heart raced, the fear of the attack leaving me reeling and on edge. As the daughter of Quintana, this was not the first, or even the tenth attempt on my life. But I never got used to it. And my mind was overwhelmed with the fear that this time would be the time that took me away.
It was no doubt a rival cartel. It always was. Men hungry for the wealth and power my father possessed. I was always going to be the best leverage for any of my father’s enemies. Everyone knew I was the Achilles’ heel of Alfonso Quintana.
Time passed and darkness fell. The forest became thicker and thicker, making it harder and harder to see. Still, Tanner never released me. His hand in mine felt unyielding and strong. In a break in the tree-lined darkness, I saw my almond skin against his tattooed white hand. The brief slices of moonlight made them look not so different as Tanner believed.
My legs were tiring and the incline became steep. My arms were heavy, my feet stumbling the more exhaustion set in, the more I lost energy. A twig suddenly snapped somewhere beside us. Before we even had a chance to hide, a series of gunshots rang out, cutting into bark and dead leaves. We dropped to the ground, I assumed for coverage, but when Tanner exhaled a pained breath I realized something was wrong. A gap in the high tree above let in enough moonlight for me to see blood trickling from his bicep. “Tanner,” I whispered, just as the guard got to his feet and started firing.
Footsteps drew near. My heart beat faster as the attacker approached. And then a gurgled sound came from the guard. Fear held me in its grip. My heartbeat echoed in my ears. Then the guard dropped to the ground, immediately fighting to get back up like a wounded animal would do. Tanner scrambled to where the guard lay. “How far to the safe house?” he asked him. The guard held onto Tanner, trying to fight, to cling onto life, but then he lost strength and something like acceptance settled in his dark eyes. Acceptance that he wasn’t going to survive. My chest tightened in sympathy. In sadness.
“One more mile . . . that way . . .” the guard managed, pointing west. He handed Tanner a key from his suit pocket. I could see the guard was dying; his labored breathing echoed like cracks of thunder in the silent forest. Tanner took the gun from the guard’s hand, then reached for me, pushing me to hide in the nearby trees. He waited, like a statue, for the gunman to betray his location. Breath held, I watched Tanner, heart firing in my chest. In the area we were in, blood was everywhere, red blotting out the green of the grass and trees. I could see the blood running down Tanner’s arm. Blood had stained his face from the impact of the crash. His hands were soaked in blood from