Page 43 of Brick's Retribution

My heart hammers in my chest, adrenaline sharpening every sense.

"They're getting closer," Brick says grimly. "We need to reach the clubhouse before they can coordinate a full search."

I nod, already planning our route through the city's backstreets.

Chihuahua is a big city, but it's not infinite.

Eventually, they'll box us in unless we find a way out of this.

"Follow me," I say, leading him deeper into the alley. "I know this city."

But as we move through the narrow streets, I can't shake the feeling that we're being herded—pushed toward a specific location, a trap waiting to spring on us.

The men hunting us are professionals, and they've had time to prepare.

We're walking into something, I'm sure of it.

The question is whether we'll recognize the trap before it's too late.

Chapter Six

Brick

The alley feels like a trap, but I’m determined we’re getting the hell out of this shit.

All we need to do is make it to the clubhouse, and we can do that.

"This way," she says, leading us deeper into the maze of back streets.

I catch her arm, pulling her into the shadowed doorway of a closed shop. "We need to find somewhere safe. Regroup, figure out our next move."

She scans the area, her tactical mind working. "There's a safe house my family maintains about six blocks from here. Off the books, even Diego doesn't know about it."

"You sure?"

"My mother set it up years ago. Used it when she needed to disappear from my father's world for a while." There's pain in her voice when she mentions her mother. "I'm the only one with the access codes now."

We could go there, or right to the club. “How far is it?”

“Only a couple of blocks away.”

Mmm, it would be smarter to go there.

The club is about ten blocks away. We could go to the safe house, let things cool off, and then reconvene.

We make our way through the streets, sticking to shadows and avoiding main areas.

The last thing I want is more attention on us, but if I had my damn cut on then people would know not to fuck with us.

We have the Ramirez cartel in our back pocket, and their people are everywhere.

Motherfucker.

With every step it feels like we might run into more trouble, but Imani goes on, leading us to a modest apartment building that looks like a thousand others in this part of the city.

She punches a code into a hidden keypad beside an unmarked door.

The lock clicks open, and we slip inside to find a narrow staircase leading to the upper floors.

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