Page 47 of Don't Trust Him

They lied.

They didn’t want to tip us off. They wanted us to get comfortable.

Which means they’re planning something.

Which further means that we’re truly fucked now.

“They still haven’t located the batch, or the formula.” Sitting next to me, Grayson lays one of his hands on top of mine, squeezing it gently. “We cleaned up good. It’ll still take them some time to find the warehouse.”

Just like Grayson said, we cleaned up good—which, of course, translates as Grayson putting a bullet in the head of every single man that worked in our crew. It felt awful to watch him do it, but there was no other way around it. We couldn’t risk it. Everyone was a potential leak, and there’s no way we’d be able to contain the news from spreading. After all, as much as those men respected us as leaders, their loyalties lay with the cartel.

And only fools would betray the cartels.

Fools like Grayson and I.

The only man we left alive was Rafe. Good ol’ Rafe, faithful to the end. I just hope the cartel doesn’t turn on him. I don’t know if I’d ever be able to shoulder the guilt. Gritting my teeth, I make a promise to myself—if we survive this, I’m taking Rafe with us. I can count on him, and his loyalty is unquestionable. More than that, he has a lot of experience under his belt that we can use to mount our operation.

But, of course, first we have to survive this.

“What do we do now?” I ask Grayson, sitting up and resting my head on his shoulder. “There’s no way out.”

“There’s always a way out.”

“San Diego is crawling with sicarios. Ironically, a lot of them are holed up at the Holiday Inn. Go figure. There are two cartels looking for us—yours and mine—and God knows that every criminal organization we’ve ever heard about would love to have a chat with us. By now, word of the formula must’ve gotten out. From the Sicilian mob to the Triads...they’re all out there, just waiting to lay their hands on us the moment we show our faces.”

“Yeah, and every single asshole in the fucking world would love to own the formula, I know that,” he sighs, turning to me. “But we own it, Eliza. Believe it or not, we’re the ones in a position of power right now.”

“Doesn’t feel like it.”

“I know,” he admits, clenching his jaw and turning both hands into fists. “But I promise. I’ll find a way out. The plans we’ve made...they’ll become real.”

“I love you, Grayson,” I whisper softly, closing my eyes as he leans in. Our lips brush together, and the world fades around us as we kiss. For a moment, I forget everything about drugs, cartels, and murders. I forget about my childhood and all the violence that followed me as I grew up.

For a moment, Grayson is the only real thing in the whole universe.

And, as stupid as it might be, I believe his promise.

We will find a way out. Together.

“I love you too.”

For a man who was born out of violence, he sure has the sweetest smile I’ve ever seen. One that makes me weak in the knees and forces me to believe in the fairy tales of old. Somehow, this man makes me believe that there just might be an happy ending waiting for us at the end of this novel.

“I don’t want this to be our last night,” I find myself saying as I stand up. Feeling a tightness in my heart, I walk out of the room and onto the balcony. Gripping the handrails tight, I look out toward the horizon, a cold breeze whipping my hair back. Right now, there are hundreds of men out there, all of them looking for us and excited about the prospect of dragging our asses back to Colombia or Mexico for endless days of torture.

“It won’t be,” he promises, standing next to me and placing his jacket over my shoulders. “This is just the first night we’re together for good, and it’ll be the first of many.”

“But we gotta do something.”

“We do.”

“Sooner or later they’re going to find us. Or the warehouse. Maybe we should just run, Grayson, leave it all behind us…”

“You know that wouldn’t work, babe,” he smiles kindly. “That’s not us. Even if we could somehow escape, we’d spend the rest of our lives thinking about all the what ifs. And we’re not like that...we were born and bred for this, as hard as this life is.”

I nod, reaching for his hand and tangling my fingers on his. He’s right, in more ways than he’d ever know.

“But if we’re gonna do this, we gotta—”

---