Page 60 of Hostile King

“I promise.”

When he hangs up, I take a steadying breath and wipe my salty brow with the back of my hand. “We have directions to a safehouse nearby.

“There’s a medical guy called Enrique, who’s waiting for us. He’ll be able to help Tomás,” I call out to Shane, and waggle the phone at him.

“What guy?” He takes a hand off the wheel to throw it behind him and stretch for the phone. There’s a foot of empty space between us. He can’t crawl into the back and if I move, blood will erupt like a volcano.

“Incoming…” I toss the phone at him, bypassing his waiting hand, clipping the headrest, bumping his temple, and sinking out of sight.

“Fuck’s sake,” he complains. “You’re lucky I like you kid, or I’d dump your ass on the side of the road.” He lifts the phone and glances at the screen. “Do you know him?”

“Not exactly. He’s a friend of a friend. The less you know about him, the better.”

“Don’t play me, kid.” He spies me intently in the rearview mirror, his lucid green eyes narrowed and suspicious. “I’m not driving anywhere unless I know who this clown is. Does he know there’s a Souza on board? I’d never walk into a building with my eyes shut.Never.”

I understand his unease. Even I’m skeptical about the park ranger who had operated on cold corpses, but time isn’t on our side and my brother wouldn’t send me headfirst into a viper’s nest.

“Tomás trusts me, Shane. Now you have to do the same. You know the hospital isn’t an option. He’s bleeding out and neither of us wants him to die. So, you need to drive us to that meeting point.”

“It’s a national park. Do you know how many people go missing in those creepy as fuck woodlands?”

I know only too well. The Amazon rainforest was my sanctuary where I both hid from the world and healed from the damage it did to me.

“It shouldn’t take too long if you put your foot on the gas and stop whimpering about it. The guy comes highly recommended.”

His spine goes rigid. “I’m not fucking whimpering, kid.”

We’re already breaking the speed limit on a federal highway, the rattly engine heating up from all the action.

“Then stop driving like an old lady.” I goad him knowing he’ll take the bait and focus on the challenge rather than the destination.

I actually don’t mind being with Shane. The guy looks mean and terrifying with his thread thin facial scars, but that’s what I like most of all. He’s unapologetically imperfect, straight to the point, and zero fucks given like my boss at the jazz bar.

They’d be a good fit together if he wasn’t a homicidal bodyguard for the—bloodthirsty capo I’ve fallen for. How ludicrously ironic.

“Who recommended him?”

“A ghost.”

He shakes his head. “Fuck, kid. Are you always this cryptic?”

“You have your secrets, and I have mine.”

“And you’re certain it’s not a trap?”

“I’d stake my life on it.”

* * *

It’s been the longest fifteen minutes of my life. We’ve long since left the highway and dodged any sign of the cops. They must have been busy with the chaos unraveling outside of the hotel, creating a clear route out of the city.

The truck reduces speed to a steady crawl and comes to a stop. “This must be your guy. He looks wild as fuck.” Shane mechanically lowers the window half-way.

“You lost?” A deep, husky baritone carries into the dead air.

“Enrique is expecting us.”

“Where’s the girl?”

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