“It’s fine,” she says. Except Jags is yelling that “it’s not fine” in the background. “I need her coordinates. I need her exact location. I want his ranking. I want this man’s name. Why are they almost in fucking Mexico?” Jags is still yelling. The phone wrestles against something and I hear Jags breathe into the phone. “Where are you, doll-face? Tell me you’re okay. Tell me that dickwad didn’t lay a finger on you.” I can’t tell him any of that. I’m not okay. I’m scared to death. My wrists are bleeding. Everything hurts. And all I want is to see is Jags’s face. I want him to tell me this will all end well, but he’s freaking out. Cali’s freaking out. Tango’s yelling at someone in the background too, and that’s scary to me.
“The man said we’re heading to Del Rizo, off of 140. We’re going to the nearest gas station, I guess in that town, and he’s dropping me off there.”
“I’ll wait with your girl until you get there,” Manny shouts over me. “I’m Sergeant Manny Ralph. I’m stationed at Camp Bullis, and I’m on leave for a week. I’m driving a black 1975 Chevy Pickup with the license plate 703AL4.” I thought the truck was blue and I didn’t think it was that old.
“Jesus. Don’t trust him,” Jags says. “He wouldn’t be stationed there; just don’t trust him. Don’t trust anyone, you understand?”
“Yes,” I say quietly.
“I’ll be there as soon as I can, doll-face. I’ve been going crazy looking for you.” His compassion for me makes my heart swell, and it makes me feel protected, even if I’m still in a lot of trouble right now. “You’re about four hours south of here. It’s going to take me a bit.”
I’m not sitting with this soldier for the next four hours in a gas station. “Jags, I should find a hotel or something and wait for you there.”
“No, I don’t want that man taking you to a hotel, Sasha.”
“All he did was help me off the side of the road,” I explain.
“No!” he snaps. “No, you understand me? Sasha, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me, okay? Just please wait at the gas station until I get there.”
“It’s fine,” Manny says. “I’m not meeting my girl until tomorrow morning. I can wait with you.”
“I don’t like him,” Jags says softly into the phone.
I’m not going to argue with him on this man’s phone, so I tell him, “Okay.”
By the time I end the call, we’re pulling into the gas station, which is attached to a diner, where I see myself sitting for the next four hours.
The moment the truck is shifted into park, Manny looks over at me and grins against his yellowing teeth. “I’m not really a soldier,” he says, taking his phone back. “I’m sorry I lied.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
THREE HOURS AND TWENTY-TWO LONG-ASS MINUTES LATER
JAGS
I DON’T TRUST that dipshit. I don’t care how good of a man he is to pick up a pretty blonde on the side of the road, I don’t trust him. While whipping into the parking lot of the gas station where Sasha told me she’d be, I take inventory of every vehicle in the lot, not seeing a truck. The sinking feeling I’ve had in my gut since the second I saw the opened door of Tango’s house, has just grown larger. I knew I shouldn’t have trusted that dick, but I had no choice.
I park in front of the diner and run inside, scanning the place from right to left. At the last table on the left, I see a blonde-haired chick with her back facing me. The dude facing her has a stupid smirk etched over his crooked features, and the dark look in his eyes doesn’t sit well with me. That’s gotta be them. I run down the row of tables and place my hand on the girl’s shoulder, but I’m immediately disappointed when she turns around with a pair of brown eyes that don’t belong to the girl that I have ridiculously fallen for.
“Sorry, I thought you were someone else,” I tell her as the man stands up from his seat.
“No problem,” she says sweetly. The guy isn’t being so sweet, though.
“What’s your deal, bro?”
I raise a brow. “Chill, man. It was a mistake.” The guy eases and sits back down in his booth.
“Jags?” I hear her voice; the voice I’ve wanted to hear in person all fucking day.