bike facing me, kisses me again, and this time, my toes curl. His hands hold my cheeks, and his thumb caresses my jawline. When he pulls back I'm dizzy. "We should go."
I squeak out, "Okay."
He repositions his body, reaches behind him, and brings my arms around his waist.
I hold him tight, my cheek to his back, more confused than ever. We ride down bumpy dirt roads in a country type setting for twenty minutes when there is a loud bang and the back tire busts.
"Zoe, hold on," Dirk yells as we slide.
I grip him and scream as he tries to maneuver the bike. When it finally stops, my heart is beating hard, and I'm shaking.
"You okay, my Little Diva?"
I inhale. "Yes. I'm fine. You?"
"All good."
We slowly get off, and Dirk looks where the tire was. The rubber split and several pieces lie on the ground.
"Guess we're walking," he states.
"Are we far?"
"I don't think so." He opens the map and points. "We're only a few miles." Dirk walks the bike to the side of the road and parks it, so it's not in the way of any traffic. Not that we've seen any for several miles. "Let's go."
We walk quite a while in silence. My mind spins, thinking of the previous night's conversation.
"I think that's Tinkers." Dirk points to a blue bungalow about a half a kilometer away. No other houses are in sight.
"When we get there, will you show me how to defend and kill?" I blurt out.
He freezes.
Several feet ahead of him, I spin. "Why are you stopping?"
"Can I be honest with you?"
My gut flips. "Yes. Of course. What?"
"I'm conflicted. If you want to know how to do this, then we should talk about how to handle it."
Rage boils in me. "You're conflicted?" I hurl.
He steps toward me. "Hear me out."
I increase my speed, and he follows.
"Zoe, listen to me before you get mad."
"Mad? Gee, why would I be mad?" I shout.
"I don't want you to have to deal with the aftermath of killing someone."
"Who? A rapist? You think I will feel bad about that?"
"You don't know what you'll feel."
"So, I should let whoever wants to have their way with me just do whatever?"
He sternly says, "I am not saying that."
"Then what are you saying, Dirk?"
"Let me explain what I'm trying to say." He reaches for my biceps.
"Don't touch me."
"Why? Hmm? Why can't I touch you? Do you honestly think I would hurt you?"
Appalled that he would ask me that when he so blatantly didn't want to touch me this morning or last night, I cry out, "I'm sorry? You do want to touch me, or you don't? Your mixed messages are ripping me apart. You accuse me of being hot and cold, but that fits you to a T, Dirk."
"Zoe—"
An SUV pulls out of the driveway, speeds towards us, and Dirk pushes me out of the way. It passes, and a cloud of dirt smothers us.
I cough, and Dirk rubs my back. "You okay?"
"Is that your friend? You should tell him to slow down," I say irritated and shaken from almost being run over.
Dirks forehead creases. He says nothing, takes my hand, and leads me up toward the house. I don't fight him this time. There's another car in the driveway with Belizean plates.
"I wonder who got here first," I say.
"Shh. Zoe, don't talk." He pulls his gun out of his bag.
"Why? What's—"
He puts his hand over my mouth, leans into my ear, and murmurs, "Something isn't right. Stay quiet."
A deep chill runs through my bones. "How do you know?"
"Shh." He points to the open front door. "Stay back."
He unlocks the safety on his gun, holds it in the air then creeps forward. As soon as he gets to the side of the door, he steps in the middle and takes two shots.
"Sorry to get blood on your face," he growls.
Andre's voice booms, "I gotta go. He took Naomi."
"Who?"
"Her ex, who's involved with the Colombian cartel."
I shove past Dirk. Two men are crumpled on the floor, dead. Bright red covers the carpet and is spreading by the minutes. Andre has blood splattered all over his face.
"Crap. Zoe, I told you to stay outside," Dirk says.
My stomach flips so fast I cover my mouth. Andre points to a door, and I run, assuming it's a bathroom.
As soon as I get inside, I throw up. I'm hovering over the toilet when Dirk slides his hand on my back and takes over, holding my hair back.