bloody hole of seeping blood and broken bones. I flipped the gun in my hand, aimed and let off two rounds in his smashed-in face.
Without so much as a backward glance, I trekked back across the street. Thankfully, in the minutes that we were shooting and killing each other, no other vehicles had driven up. The incident, while happening, had appeared to last a lifetime, but was actually less than ten minutes.
It was a blessing and a curse that some roadways were so isolated, that a shoot-out had gone full throttle without so much as a peep from a passerby.
First, I tossed the body in the back of the guard’s vehicle before I hopped in and pulled it off to the side of the road. Then, I dragged my heels from under my vehicle, hopped back in, and picked up my ringing phone.
“Husband,” I said, my voice still filled with the anger raging through me.
“I’m about ten minutes away. Are you okay?” he asked. His words were rushed, and his tone heavy with concern.
“I’m okay, but my guard, and the two that were sent to kill me are dead.”
“I’m on my way. Please wait there if you’re not in immediate danger.”
“You know I can’t do that, Arjen. I have to figure out who the hell wants me dead, and I’m going to get an answer from somebody today.”
I wasn’t upset. I was full-on raging, so strong that Arjen’s words went in but I wasn’t transmitting or applying common sense.
“Please, Mecca. I will go with you to wherever you think you need to go. We are going to find out who’s targeting you, I promise.”
Since I was driving, the signal had his voice waving like he was talking while running.
“I’ll see you tonight. I love you, Arjen.”
I clicked off, realizing I had just told him that I loved him for the first time. I reached under the seat and felt around until I found the tracker, tossed it out the window and stomped on the gas.
It killed me to see that guard die because he was protecting me. Did the cartel, the very ones I’ve been involved with for over a decade, want me dead?
35
Mecca
Corvel obviously trusted me a hell of a lot more than he trusted my uncle. His men didn’t do their usual vehicle check, and they had left me with HB. They cast hard stares at my vehicle, but none had commented on the damaged hull from the fresh bullet strikes.
The crease in my forehead deepened as my gaze shot around in every direction. Why weren’t they questioning me? Why was HB still tucked tight against that spot that Arjen liked putting his hand? What did it mean? Had they left me with my gun so they would have an excuse to kill me?
The lingering stares and roving eye movements when they thought I wasn’t looking weren’t missed. Neither was the brush of their hands over the areas that housed their weapons.
The lack of breathable oxygen in the air was tangible. Was I paranoid because of the shoot-out, or were they acting strangely?
Once the guards waved me through the gate, I drove into Corvel’s compound with the weight of the world riding my shoulders. I called the place a compound because the main house was the size of three houses merged into one.
Grey brick and beige stucco with a large fountain sat in the center of the driveway. A large pool house around the back and two other buildings sat in the distance, one resembling a garage and the other a small cottage with the same color theme as the house.
The only portion of the place that had a fence was the front. The sides and the back of the property were left open to the vast hilly view surrounding it. The front gate structure that spanned the length of the front of the property, was a command and control point, and added a certain royal element to the place.
The lawn was always landscaped to perfection, like the inside of the house and its owner. I had never seen Corvel in anything other than a suit or fancy expensive button-ups with slacks. He was who inspired me to take pride in the way I dressed when I first met him at fourteen.
The first few times I had visited with Raymond were learning experiences where I had paid attention to everything. The way he carried himself. The way he spoke. His sense of pride in what he did. He