Page 13 of City of Salvation

Her tone was icy when she spoke. “Thanks for the information. I’ll be sure and figure out where the fuck Beto was when this happened,” she said, spinning on her heel and strutting off toward her office, shoulder-checking the man who’d come up and tried to speak with her.

My lids fluttered closed. I needed a moment to collect myself. Would I ever know what peace felt like? To fucking rest and not be thinking about survival?

You thought you had that here…

Fuck.

I hadn’t meant to get Robert into trouble, I’d just wanted to get her off my fucking back. I wanted everyone off my fucking back. Why couldn’t people see I was like a livewire?

I stomped off to change so I could get home, drink an entire bottle of wine and melatonin, and let Keith Morrison’s dulcet tone lull me to sleep.

“Hey, Nikki,” one of the newer dancers called out as I entered the dressing room.

Poor girl had shit timing. “Do I have a sign that says ‘talk to me’on my forehead or what? Can’t people see I’m on the verge of a mental breakdown that might lead to a murder spree?” I yelled, throwing my hands up in the air and letting out a frustrated sigh when the poor girl scampered off, looking at me like I was unhinged.

Which…accurate.

CHAPTER 6

NIKKI

WHO KNEW HOLDING YOUR ARMS IN FIRST POSITION HELPED WITH HOLDING A GUN…

It’d beena long time since I’d felt like more of a passenger in my life rather than the driver, but that was the way I felt lately.

Yuri and I were playing a game of cat and mouse. I’d already pushed my luck by staying, playing some dumbfuck version of reverse psychology with myself, and justifying it with the idea that Yuri would assume I’d fled Tucson and begin searching somewhere else.

But the note from last night left me with no choice. I needed to dosomething. Starting with finding out some information. Normally, that would mean asking Ryan, but I didn’t want to drag her into my bullshit. She had too much on her plate already, and after the way I’d treated her at the club?

I was a smart, capable woman. I could do this…probably.

A car alarm went off, and on instinct, I ducked behind a beat-up delivery truck, peeking out to look for danger. My confidence was boosted a little bit by my own quick reaction.

See, you’ve got survival instincts. Maybe not the final girl in a horror movie, but I’d last ‘til mid-movie.

I wasn’t sure if my realistic outlook on my skill level was a pro or con.

When it was clear it was nothing more than some kids attempting to mess around, I kept moving. Fuck. That was how vigilant I should’ve been this entire time I’d been in Tucson. The air seemed to vibrate with anticipation—or maybe it was all in my head. Either way, I checked that my hair was still tucked under my ball cap as unease settled in my stomach.

I looked like some punk teenage boy ditching out on school, with my too-baggy pants and ill-fitting hoodie pulled over my head. Anything to help hide the fact that I was a woman.

The mini-mart came into view, and I turned my head as I passed the camera hanging in the corner. Unlike most places on this side of town, Val actually had her surveillance hooked up and running. But the threat of her turning over evidence to the police wasn’t why no one messed with her place. She’d never turn that shit over. She had her way of doling out justice, and it came in the form of a shotgun tucked by the register. There were countless tales of her running after assholes who’d tested if she’d really use it.

“Hood off.”

The gravelly voice boomed through the liquor store, overpowering the chime of the bell over the door. Val never struggled with people hearing her, that was for sure.

“That’s a new rule since last time,” I said, halting before the counter. Cleaner and stale cigarettes tickled my nose. I’d been around Los Muertos long enough to recognize Vicente Fernández playing from the ancient speakers. The garbled sound quality somehow added to his music rather than taking away.

The older woman’s face lit up when she recognized me. “Well, if it’s not my troublemaker of a stray finally coming to say hello.” Her gnarled hands hit her hips, the corner of her thin lips tipping up in a smirk.

When I first got to Tucson, I’d tried stealing from Val, and the tough broad threw a shoe at the back of my head. Told me I was lucky she was feeling nice because she could have shot me instead. I wasalmostpositive she’d never actually shot anyone. But truthfully, even though I liked her, I was fucking scared of her. Which was the reason for the shake in my hands that I’d tucked into my front pockets.

“Please, Val. I come see your old ass all the time,” I teased, ducking when she raised her hand.

“Stop moving so I can hit you. Fucking disrespectful brat.”

I barely caught the last part over my laughter.

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