the guard’s wound. I glanced at the guard to see his eyes were closed and his chest no longer rose and fell.
The sound of rustling leaves came from opposite where I hid. Tanner didn’t even wait to see what the attacker would do. He darted from the ground and dived into the coverage of the trees. I froze, eyes wide as I heard the sound of fighting. I tried to follow the brief flashes of arms and legs, until two bodies came barreling from the bushes. I blinked, trying to focus. Tanner was holding the attacker in his grip, a knife pressed to the man’s throat. The attacker flailed, trying to get away, but Tanner held him tightly in his strong arms.
“Tell me who the fuck you work for.” He yanked the attacker’s head up by his hair.
The attacker smiled in defiance, his teeth stained with blood. It only infuriated Tanner more. Taking the knife, he stabbed it into the attacker’s shoulder. The man paled. Tanner pulled the knife out, put his mouth to the man’s ear, and repeated, “Tell me who the fuck you work for.”
Noticing a pin on the attacker’s suit, I stepped out of the trees. The man’s mouth curled in disgust as he saw me. I walked to him and met his eyes. I flicked my gaze to Tanner to see a surprised expression flash across his face. “Valdez,” I said and ripped the pin from his suit. I held it out to Tanner, showing him the emblem that I knew all too well. “He works for Valdez.” Valdez was my father’s biggest opponent. I wasn’t surprised this was all due to him.
“You fucking bitch!” the attacker snarled. “You’re gonna die. The Quintana family will all die—”
Before he could even finish the threat, Tanner sliced the knife across his throat. Blood poured from the wound. I watched him die with a detached fascination. I had grown up with threats and death and blood as part of my life. The sight of death didn’t haunt me at night. These days, it barely inspired any reaction in me at all.
When the man dropped to his knees, Tanner used his heavy boot to kick his back and send him sprawling across the floor while his body drained of blood.
“You understood what he said?” I asked. Of course, the man had spoken in Spanish. Tanner shook his head. I frowned. “Then why—”
“I didn’t like his motherfucking tone.” Tanner only held my questioning gaze for a moment before he ducked his head and stepped away from me. “We have to move.”
But as I followed him up the hill, toward the safe house, all I could think about was why he had chosen to kill the man then. Why, when he had spoken to me so badly, had Tanner cut off his words? Tanner hated me. Hated Mexicans, hated my family. Why would he care if someone talked badly of us?
I didn’t like his motherfucking tone.
I’d seen Tanner’s face as he’d glared at the man. I’d seen him snarl as the man spat his vitriol at me. I’d seen his muscles cord in his neck at the aggression shown toward me . . . and I had seen that flash of rage in his ice-blue eyes. In the blanket of the moon’s blue glow, I had seen Tanner kill in anger . . . and it seemed as though he was pissed at the way the attacker had threatened me.
We walked the remaining mile in silence. But Tanner stayed close, and although he didn’t take my hand again, he kept looking back at me. His hands would ball into fists then relax, only to do it again. His shoulders were tense, and the wounded arm was dropped, as if the pain was getting worse. I couldn’t make out much of his injury in this darkness, but I knew it was bad. The gun was slung over his chest, ready to use at a moment’s notice.
I replayed how he’d killed the attacker. How the man had submitted so easily. It was no longer surprising to me that Tanner Ayers was the heir to the Ku Klux Klan. And I knew that in years to come, when he took over, anyone they deemed inferior was not going to be safe.
Tanner pushed through the thick foliage. He stopped dead, and I realized we’d reached the safe house. I followed him as he quietly searched for the door with his hands. It was pitch black, and