the house was completely hidden from view of anyone in the forest, on the road. My father’s safe houses were always like that. Impenetrable. Fortresses hidden in plain sight.
The sound of the door clicking open echoed off the surrounding tall trees. I heard night birds scatter into the air. A cool breeze swept under my hair, causing goosebumps to break out all over my body. I rubbed my arms, trying to get warm.
A hand grabbed my arm. I jumped. But I wasn’t scared. I could tell by the rough palms that it was Tanner.
I wasn’t scared.
I knew I should have been . . . but the ability to feel that emotion had long gone from my soul.
I let him guide me into the safe house. The sound of the door closing behind us echoed off the stone walls. Then there was silence. Only silence, but for Tanner moving around. There were no windows. But there would be cameras to scout for anyone who dared approach. Tanner must have been familiar with this kind of setup. Maybe the Klan had these back in the US.
A dim lamp came on, illuminating the round room. My eyes adjusted to the light, and I looked around. Tanner sat behind a few monitors that I guessed were linked to the cameras outside. The blue tint from their screens shone on his face. There was blood. Tanner’s face and chest were covered in blood. And he was holding his arm that bore the bullet wound.
A few patches of non-bloodstained skin remained. I narrowed my eyes. He looked pale. Tanner Ayers was as much a fortress as the safe house that now protected us. But his clenched jaw showed his pain. And his wounded shoulder slumped as he worked to turn on the cameras.
I found the metal cabinet I was searching for on the far wall. After taking out what I’d need, I filled a bowl from the kitchenette with water. When I walked to Tanner, I saw the cameras were on. His eyes were locked on the screens, searching for any threat of enemies. I picked up the emergency cell and called my father.
“Adela?” he said, his voice as neutral as always. Alfonso Quintana could never be seen to be ruffled.
“Papa,” I said, keeping my voice strong. “We are in the safe house.”
“You and Ayers?”
“Yes.”
There was a heavy pause. “My men are handling it. You’ll be retrieved when it’s safe.”
I flicked my gaze up to Tanner. His blue eyes were on me. “And when will that be?”
“Sometime tomorrow,” my father said. I closed my eyes, but then pulled myself together. “There are guns in the usual places, princesa. If you need to use one, don’t hesitate. You’re a good shot. One of the best.”
My father hung up. The meaning of his words was not lost on me. If Tanner Ayers became a threat, I had his permission to kill him.
Tossing the cell to the table, I met Tanner’s eyes. His huge body looked too heavy for the seat he currently occupied. His white shirt was soiled with blood—I was sure it wasn’t the first time he’d had blood on his hands.
“Tomorrow,” I said as I kicked off my heels. “We’re stuck here tonight.” I saw the brief flash of anger cross Tanner’s face. But then his eyes were back on the screens. He only lasted two minutes before he glanced down at his shirt. He ripped it over his head with his good arm.
He tossed the shirt across the room. I didn’t let myself look at his torso. Instead, I took the bowl of water and rag from the desk. “Get up.” Tanner’s head snapped to me. “Get up,” I said again.
When he didn’t, I reached forward to take hold of his arm. He had hold of my wrist in less than a second. “If you think I’m letting you touch me you’re deluded,” he spat, before pushing me away.
I moved in front of him. Leaning forward, putting my hands on the arms of his seat, I lowered my face to just an inch before his. I glared into those eyes that watched me with such intensity I almost lost my breath. His nostrils were flaring and his wide tattooed chest was heaving with rage, or whatever emotion he felt when I, a lowly Mexican, was so close. “You’re covered.” I ran my finger down his face. My touch left a track mark on his skin. I wiped the blood across his chest. Then I moved