CHAPTER THREE
The hits just kept on coming for her. Logan watched Juliana, clad in a black dress that skimmed her curves, as she bent and placed a red rose on her father’s closed casket.
No one had been able to glimpse the body—folks didn’t need to witness the sight left after a gunshot blast to the head.
His team had been with Juliana for the past four days. They’d stood guard, making sure that she returned to Jackson, Mississippi, without any further incident. Once in town, his team had taken over a group of rooms at a local hotel. He’d insisted that Juliana stay at the hotel, too, so that his team could keep a better eye on her. At first, she’d balked, but he hadn’t backed down. His instincts had been screaming at him, and Logan hadn’t wanted to let Juliana out of his sight.
He’d expected her to cry at the news of her father’s death. After all that she’d been through, she was entitled to her tears.
She hadn’t cried once.
Her back was too straight as she walked away from the casket. Mourners began to file past her. One after the other. All offering their condolences and stopping to give her a hug or a pat on the shoulder.
Logan watched from his position underneath the sweeping branches of a magnolia tree. The fresh scent of the magnolias was in the air. That scent had reminded him of her. The first time they’d kissed, they’d been under a magnolia tree. It had been raining.
She’d trembled against him.
“You know what we have to do,” Gunner said from beside him.
Logan spared him a glance. Gunner’s gaze was on Juliana, his face tense. Gunner was the quiet type, quiet but deadly. A Spanish father and a Native American mother had given him dark gold skin and the instincts of a hunter. He’d been trained early on a reservation, learned to hunt and stalk prey at his grandfather’s knee. A lethal SOB, Gunner was one of the few people on earth who Logan actually called friend. He was also the best SEAL sniper that Logan had ever met.
“Knowing it and liking it…” Logan said with a sigh and tried to force his tense body to relax. “Those are two very different things.” But the orders had come down from high above. There wasn’t a choice on this one.
With the senator out of the picture, Juliana was now their key to cracking Guerrero.
She’d created the sketches for them. Of Guerrero’s goons and of the man she’d called John. Perfect sketches that had even included slight moles on some of the men. Her artist’s eyes had noted their every feature. Juliana truly was a perfect witness.
One that Guerrero would never let escape.
It was the picture of John Gonzales that intrigued Logan and his men the most. An innocent man, or so Juliana claimed. Another hostage who’d been taken and tortured by Guerrero.
Except John Gonzales wasn’t listed as missing in any database. He wasn’t turning up in any intel from the CIA or the FBI. As far as they were concerned, John Gonzales didn’t exist.
“You think Guerrero’s gonna make a hit on her?” Gunner asked as his gaze swept the crowd.
They weren’t there to pay respects to the senator. Neither of them had respected Aaron James worth a damn. They were there for guard duty.
The mission wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.
“The boss does.” Because Logan wasn’t the man in control at the EOD. But this time, he agreed. Every instinct Logan had screamed that Juliana wasn’t clear, not yet.
She had to be here today, though. Senator James was being laid to rest. Unfortunately, he wasn’t taking his demons with him.
The crowd began to clear away. It was a high-profile funeral, with government officials spilling out for their photo ops. Lots of plainclothes security were scattered around, even some folks Logan recognized from the Secret Service.
In particular, he’d noticed that two men and one woman in black suits stayed close to Juliana. On-loan protection. Those three were so obvious, but maybe that was the point. The Secret Service liked to be in-your-face some days.
“You really up for what you’ll have to do?”
Logan paused. He knew what Gunner was asking. Could he look right into Juliana’s eyes and lie to her? Over and over again? That was what needed to be done, and because of their past, he was the prime candidate for the job.
The man who was supposed to slip close to Juliana, to stay by her side. He’d be her protection, and she just thought he’d be—
Her lover.
“Yes.” His voice dropped to a growl. “I’ll do what needs to be done.” Another betrayal. But he didn’t trust any other agent to get this close to her. Not even Gunner.
Especially not Gunner.
The operative on this mission had to stay with Juliana. Day and night.
Only me.
He headed for her. He knew his glasses covered his eyes, so no one would be able to tell he wasn’t exactly in the mourning mood. Good. No need to put on a mask just yet.
A long black limo waited for Juliana. The door was open. She’d already turned away from Logan and headed for the vehicle.
As he closed in on his prey, a woman with blond hair—perfectly twisted at the nape of her neck—and wearing a tight black dress wrapped her arms around Juliana. Logan’s eyes narrowed as he recognized Susan Walker, one of the late senator’s assistants. Logan’s team had questioned her for hours, but she’d seemed clueless about the true nature of the senator’s activities.
“I can’t believe he’s really gone,” Susan whispered, and a tremble shook her body. “This shouldn’t have happened. We had so many plans….”
A tall, dark-haired male walked up behind her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Thin black glasses were perched on his nose. Logan knew him, of course. Ben McLintock. Another assistant to the senator. One who hadn’t broken during the interview process, but still…he’d been nervous.
McLintock glanced over his shoulder and spotted Logan. The guy swallowed quickly and bobbed his head. Too nervous. The EOD was already ripping into his life. As soon as they turned over some info they could use, something that would tie him in with the senator’s illegal deals…
Then we’ll have another talk, McLintock. Logan wouldn’t play so nicely during their next little chat.
“Juliana needs to get home,” Ben said as he pulled Susan back. “You can both talk more there.”
“Yes, yes, you’re right.” Susan’s thin shoulders straightened. She looked toward the casket again. She shook her head and turned away from the limo. “It just seems like a dream.”
Ben took her hand but his eyes were on Juliana. “You have my deepest sympathies.”
Juliana’s eyes were dry. Her face too pale.
“I never…never…thought things would end this way.”
The senator had surprised them all. Logan wasn’t even sure why the guy had done it. Had the senator thought that if he were out of the picture, Guerrero would back off? That Juliana would be safe?
“I’m truly sorry,” Ben told her and bent to press a kiss to Juliana’s right cheek.
Logan’s back teeth locked. Mr. Touchy-Feely could move the hell on anytime. He could spend some quality moments comforting Susan Walker…
And he could stay away from Juliana.
“I need some time…some air…” Susan said, then staggered back as tears trickled down her cheeks. “I can’t leave him….”
The woman’s body trembled, and Logan wondered if her knees were about to give way. He tensed, preparing to lunge forward.
But it was good old Ben to the rescue. He kept a firm hold on Susan and steered her away from the vehicle. “I’ll take care of her.” He offered Juliana a firm nod. “We’ll meet you back at the house.” Then he glanced at Logan.
Logan gave him a shark’s smile. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure that she arrives home safe and sound.”
Other cars began to pull away. Logan spared a glance for the crowd. Juliana still hadn’t met his stare, and that fact was pissing him off. He wanted to take her into his arms, hold her, comfort her. But the woman might as well have been wearing a giant keep-away sign.
The trouble was…he’d always had a problem keeping away from her.
Ben and Susan slowly walked away. They stopped under a big oak, and Susan’s shoulders shook as she cried.
“I can’t do that.” Juliana’s voice was just a whisper. “Everyone is staring at me, waiting for me to cry, but I can’t.” Finally, she glanced at him with those dark, steal-a-man’s-soul eyes. “What’s wrong with me?”
“Not a damn thing.” And he didn’t care what the others wanted. The reporters—they were just eager for a clip of the grieving daughter so that they could flash her picture all over their TVs. As for all the senator’s so-called friends…Logan knew when tears were real and when they weren’t.
Better to not cry at all and still feel than to weep when you didn’t feel any emotion.
Her lower lip quivered and she caught it between her teeth. Helpless, Logan reached out and caught her hand. “Come with me,” he told her.
She stared up at him. Light raindrops began to fall on them. Did she remember the last time they’d stood in the rain?
I need to forget. But that magnolia scent teased his nose.
Sometimes you could never forget.
Logan shrugged out of his jacket and lifted it over Juliana’s head. “I want you to come with me.”
Juliana didn’t move. “You’re not supposed to be here.” Shaking her head, she said, “I saw you standing under that tree, watching me…but you’re not supposed to be here. You should have gone back to Washington or Virginia…or wherever it is that you belong.”
For now, he belonged with her.
The rain came down harder now.
“Miss James?” It was the limo driver. He was an older guy with graying red hair. The rain was already dampening his dark suit, but he didn’t seem to mind. He stared at Juliana, and there was concern—what looked like real concern—in his gaze. Not that fake mask most folks had been sporting for the funeral.
Not hardly.
“She won’t be taking the limo,” Logan said as he moved in closer to Juliana. “We need to talk,” he whispered to her.
She nodded. Drops of rain were on her eyelashes. Or were those tears?
She glanced back at the driver. “Thank you, Charles, but I’ll be getting a ride back to the house with Mr. Quinn.”
The driver hesitated. “Are you sure?” The look he shot toward Logan was full of suspicion.
After a moment’s hesitation, Juliana nodded. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “Thanks for all you’ve done today… I just… You’ve always been so good to me.”
Charles offered her a sad smile. “And you’ve been good to me.” He gave her a little salute and shoved the back door closed. “Take care of her,” he said to Logan.
I intend to do just that.
Logan caught Juliana’s hand and steered her away from the grave. “I’m not leaving town yet,” he told her. “In fact, I’m going to be staying in Jackson for a while.”
Her eyes widened. “Why?”
They were moving faster now. His truck waited just a few steps away. There was no sign of Gunner. “Because I want to be with you.”
Her lips parted in surprise. “But—What?”
An engine cranked. The limo. It would be pulling away soon, then they could—
The explosion threw Logan right off his feet. The heat of the fire lanced his skin and lifted him up into the air. He clutched Juliana, holding her as best he could. They flew through the air and slammed against the same magnolia tree he’d stood under moments before.
Son of a bitch.
“Juliana!” Fear nearly froze his heart.
But she was fine. She pushed against him, and he raised up to see a gash bleeding on her forehead. Her eyes were wide and horrified with understanding. “Oh, my God,” she whispered and her head turned toward the burning remains of the limo. “The driver…”
There wasn’t anything they could do for the poor guy now. Logan didn’t waste time speaking. He grabbed Juliana, lifted her into his arms and raced for his pickup.
Gunner was out there. He’d seen what happened—he’d be radioing for backup and making sure EMT personnel were called. There were injured people on the ground, folks who’d been burned and blasted. Law enforcement who’d been at the funeral were swarming as they tried to figure out what was happening.
Chaos. That was happening.
Logan kept running. Right then, Juliana was his only priority. The others would have to attend to the injured. He had to get her out of there.
“Logan, put me down! We’ve got to help them! Stop it, just stop!” Fury thundered in her words as she fought wildly against his hold.
That fury didn’t slow him a bit. With one arm, he yanked open the truck’s passenger-side door, and with the other, he pushed her inside.
She immediately tried to jump out.
“Don’t.” A lethal warning. Fury rode him, too. She’d come too close to death. He could have stood there and watched her die. “Who do you think that bomb was meant for? The driver…or you?”
Juliana paled even more and shook her head. “But…the people… They’re hurt…”
She’d always had that soft spot. A weakness that just might get her killed one day.
But not today. “Stay in the truck.” He slammed the door and raced around to the driver’s side. Two seconds later, he was in the truck, and they were roaring away from the scene.
The limo was supposed to have been swept for bombs. Every vehicle linked to her should have been swept. Someone had screwed up, and Juliana had almost paid for that mistake with her life.
The driver had.
“That was…an accident, right?”
The woman was trying to lie to herself. “I don’t think so.”
Sirens wailed behind them. Logan glanced in his rearview mirror and saw the dark clouds of smoke billowing up into the air. His gaze turned toward the road as he shoved the gas pedal down to the floorboard. The truck’s motor roared.
His hands tightened on the wheel. A deadly mistake.
“But…it’s safe now.” She just sounded lost. “It’s supposed to be safe.”
From the corner of his eye, he saw her hands clench in her lap. Her voice came, soft, confused. “You said…you said once I got back to the U.S., I’d be safe.”
“I was wrong.”
* * *
LOGAN TOOK HER to a cheap hotel on the outskirts of Jackson. She didn’t talk any more during the drive. She couldn’t. Every time she opened her mouth to speak, Juliana could taste ash on her tongue.
I’m sorry, Charles. He’d been with her father for over twenty years. To die like that…
She swallowed. More ash.
The truck braked. She followed Logan, feeling like a robot. Only, her steps were slow, wooden. He tossed a wad of cash at the desk clerk and ordered the kid to forget that he ever saw them. Then they pushed inside the last room, the one located at the edge of the parking lot.
A ceiling fan fluttered overhead when Logan flipped the light switch. Juliana’s gaze swept around the small room. A sagging bed. One bed. A scarred desk. A lumpy chair. The place had pay-by-the-hour written all over it.
“You’re bleeding.”
Juliana glanced over at the sound of Logan’s voice. She saw that his stare was focused on her forehead. Lifting her hand, she touched the drying blood. She’d forgotten about that. “It’s just a scratch.”
Her dress was torn, slitting up a bit at the knee. And said knee felt as if it had slammed into a tree—because it had.
“You’re too calm.”
What? Was she supposed to be screaming? Breaking down? She wasn’t exactly the breaking-down type. Right then, all she could think was…
What’s next?
And how would she handle it?
“Shock.” He took her hand and led her to the matchbox bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”
She wrenched away from him as anger began to finally boil past the numbness holding her in check. “I’m not a child, Logan.”
He blinked his sky-blue eyes at her. The brightest blue she’d ever seen. Those eyes could burn hot or flash ice-cold. Right then, they held no emotion at all. “I never said you were.”
“I can clean myself up.” She took slow, measured steps to the bathroom. Took slow, deep breaths—so she wouldn’t scream at him. “Stop acting like I’m about to fall apart.”
“Someone just tried to kill you. A little falling apart is expected.”
Near the chipped bathroom door, Juliana paused and looked back at him. “Why do the expected?”
He stared at her as if he’d never seen her before. Maybe he hadn’t. “Your father’s gone.” Now there was anger punching through his words. “Your car just exploded into a million pieces all over a graveyard. Want to tell me why you’re so cool?”
Because if she let the wall inside of herself down, even for a second, Juliana was very afraid that she might start crying and not stop. “Wanna tell me why you’re with me now?”
“Because you need someone to keep you alive!” Then he was charging across the room and catching her shoulders in a strong grip. “Or do you not even care about the little matter of living anymore?”
She stared up at him. Just stared. She was finding that being so close to Logan hurt. Over him? Not hardly. Once upon a time, she’d been ready to run away with the jerk.
She’d waited for him in a bus station—waited five hours.
He’d never shown. Too late, she’d learned that he’d left her behind.
Could she really count on him to keep sticking around now? He’d saved her butt in Mexico. Hell, yes, she was grateful, but Logan wasn’t the kind to stay forever. Juliana wasn’t going to depend on him again. “Call the cops,” she told him, weary beyond belief all of a sudden. Her body just wanted to sag, and she wanted to sleep. An adrenaline burst fading? Or just the crash she’d been fighting for days? Either way, the result was the same. “They can keep me safe.”
Juliana opened the door and entered the closet that passed for a bathroom.
“Juliana—”
Then she closed the door in his face. She looked in the mirror. Saw the too-pale face, wide eyes and the blood that covered her forehead.
She took another breath. Ash. How long would it be until she forgot that taste?
Her eyes squeezed shut. She could still feel the lance of fire on her skin. If Logan hadn’t been there, she would’ve been in that car.
And it would’ve been pieces of her that littered that cemetery.
* * *
LOGAN TURNED AWAY when he heard the sound of the shower. He yanked out his phone and punched the number for his boss. “What the hell happened?” he demanded when the line was answered. “The site should have been safe, it should have—”
“You aren’t secure.” Flat. Bruce Mercer was never the type to waste words or emotion. “We need you to get the woman and get out of that hotel. Backup is en route.”
Not secure? For the moment, they were. “No one followed me. No one—”
“There’s a leak in the senator’s office,” Mercer said in his perfectly polished voice. A voice that, right then, gave no hint of his New Jersey roots. Those roots only came out when Mercer was stressed—and very little ever stressed him. “Money talks, and we all know that Guerrero has a ton of money.”
More than enough money to make certain one woman died.
“You need to bring her in,” the boss ordered. “We’re setting up a meet location. Tell her she’ll be safe with you. Get her to trust you.”
Yes, that had been the plan…until the cemetery caught fire. “We’re still going through with this?” He almost crushed the phone. The shower was still running. Juliana couldn’t hear him, but just in case, Logan took a few cautious steps across the room.
“The plan remains the same. You know how vital this case is to the department.”
“I don’t want to put her in the line of fire.” She’d come close enough to death.
“That’s why you’re there, Alpha One. To come between her and any fire…just like you did today.”
Yes, he had the burn marks on his skin to prove it.
“Your relationship to her is key. You know that. Get her trust, and we can close this case and finally put Guerrero away.”
But could they keep her alive long enough to do it?
A pause hummed on the line. “Does she realize what’s happening?” Mercer wanted to know.
“She realizes that she’s targeted for death.” Any fool would realize that. Juliana wasn’t a fool.
Once, she’d been too trusting. Was she still? The idea of using her trust burned almost as much as those flames had.
“Have you told her about John?”
The shower shut off. His jaw clenched. “Not yet.”
“Do it. The sooner she realizes that you’re her only hope of staying alive, the sooner we get her cooperation.”
It wasn’t just about keeping her alive. The EOD wanted to use her. They were willing to set her up if it meant getting the job done.
Logan exhaled. “When are we moving her?”
“Ten minutes.”
The line died.
Ten minutes. Too little time to convince Juliana that he was the only one she could trust to keep her alive.
* * *
JULIANA WAS CLIMBING OUT of the shower when her cell phone rang. She’d washed away the blood and ash, but the icy water had done nothing to soothe the aches and pains in her body. She’d cried beneath that pounding water. Juliana hadn’t been able to hold back the tears any longer. Her whole body had trembled as she let her grief and pain pour out of her. Part of Juliana had just wanted to let the grief take control, but she’d fought that instinct. Gathering all of her strength, she’d managed to stop the tears. Managed to get her wall of self-control back in place.
As the phone rang again, she grabbed for the dress she’d tossed aside moments before and pulled her phone from the near-invisible pocket. Her fingertip slid across the smooth surface. Ben McLintock. Her father’s aide. The guy had to be frantic. She answered the call, lifting the phone to her ear as she said, “Ben, listen, I’m all right. I—”
The bathroom door crashed open. Juliana gasped and jumped back. Logan stood in the doorway, eyes fierce. “End the call.”
“Juliana!” Ben’s voice screeched. “Where are you? I searched for you after the explosion, but you’d vanished! Oh, God, at first—at first I thought you were in the car!”
She almost had been.
“Then a cop remembered seeing you jump into a truck.” His breath heaved over the line. “They’re saying it looks like a car bomb, it looks like—”
“I’m in a motel, Ben. I—”
Logan took the phone from her. Ended the call with a fast shove of his fingers. A muscle flexed in his jaw. “GPS tracking. Your phone just told him exactly where we are.”
His gaze swept over her. Crap, she was just wearing a towel, one that barely skimmed the tops of her thighs even while her breasts pushed against the loose fold she’d made to secure the terry cloth. He’d seen her in less plenty of times, but that had been a long time ago.
Juliana grabbed her dress and held it in front of her body. It was a much better shield than the thin towel. “No one is tracking me, okay, Rambo? That was just Ben. He was worried and wanted to make sure—”
“Guerrero has a man in your father’s office. Someone willing to trade you for a thick wad of cash.” His eyes blazed hotter, and they were focused right on—
“Eyes up,” she told him, aware of the hot burn in her cheeks.
Those eyes, when they met hers, flashed with a need she didn’t want to acknowledge right then.
“I know how this works,” he told her. “And I sure as hell know that we have to move now.”
GPS tracking. Yes, she knew that was possible, but…“Why? Why can’t they just let me go?” Her father was dead. Shouldn’t that be the end with Guerrero?
Logan didn’t speak.
“Turn around,” she snapped.
His brows rose but he slowly turned, giving her a view of his broad back. Juliana dropped the dress and towel and yanked on her underwear—a black bra and matching panties—as fast as she could. Her gaze darted to his back and—
Wait, had he been watching her in the mirror? She couldn’t tell for certain, but for a moment there, she’d sworn she saw his gaze cut to the mirror.
To her reflection.
“Done yet?” he asked, almost sounding bored. Almost.
Eyes narrowing, Juliana yanked on her dress. With trembling hands, she fumbled and pulled up the zipper. All while Logan stood right there. “Done,” she gritted out. Not even trying to play the gentleman now. “My father is dead. Why do they want to bury me, too?”
He turned to face her. His gaze swept over her. Made her chilled skin suddenly feel too hot. “Because you’re a witness they can’t afford.” He caught her elbow and led her back through the small hotel room. He paused at the door, glanced outside.
“A witness?” Yes, she’d seen the faces of a few men in Mexico, but…
“Did you know that no witness has ever been able to positively identify Diego Guerrero? The man’s a ghost. The U.S. and Mexican governments both know the hell he brings, but no one has been able to so much as touch him.”
She pulled on her pumps. Useless for running but she felt strangely vulnerable in bare feet. “Well, I didn’t see the guy, either. The big boss man never came in when I was being held.” He’d left the torture for his flunkies.
Logan shot her a fast, hard stare. “Yes, he did come in.”
She blinked.
“From what we can tell, he spent more time with you than he ever has with anyone else. You saw his face. You talked to him.”
Wrong. “No, I didn’t. I—”
“John Gonzales is one of the aliases that Guerrero uses.”
My name’s…John. John Gonzales. She remembered the voice from the darkness. Who are you?
“He didn’t need to torture information out of you, Juliana. All he had to do was ask for it in the dark.”
And they’d talked for so many hours. Her heart slammed into her chest.
“You weren’t talking to another hostage in that hellhole.” Logan exhaled on a low sigh. “My team believes you were talking to the number-one weapons dealer in Mexico—the man his enemies call El Diablo because he never, ever leaves anyone alive who can ID him.”
Goose bumps rose on her arms.
“That man with you? The one you were so desperate to save? That was Diego Guerrero.”
Oh, hell. “Logan…”
A fist pounded on the door.
Logan didn’t move but she jumped. “I need you to trust me,” he told her. “Whatever happens, you have to stay with me, do you understand? Guerrero’s tracked you. He’ll use anything and anyone he can in order to get to you.”
The door shook again. There was only one entrance and exit to that room. Unless they were going to crawl out that tiny window in the bathroom…
“I can keep you alive,” Logan promised, eyes intense. “It’s what I do.”
Her father had told her that he was an assassin. That for years Logan’s job had been to kill.
But he’d saved her life twice already.
“This is the police!” a voice shouted. “Miss James, you need to come out! We’re here to help you.”
Logan’s smile was grim. “It’s not the police. When we open that door, it might look like them—”
Nightmare. This is a—
“—but it won’t be them. They’ll either kill you outright or deliver you to Guerrero.” His voice was low, hard with intensity. “I’m your best bet. You might hate me—”
No, she didn’t. Never had. Just one of their problems…
“—but you know no matter what you have to face on the other side of that door—”
Cops? Maybe more killers?
“—I’ll keep you safe.”
“We’re comin’ in!” the voice shouted. “We’re comin’—”
Gunfire exploded. Juliana didn’t scream, not this time. She clamped her mouth closed, choked back the scream that rose in her throat and dived for cover.
Logan jumped for the window. He knocked out the glass, took aim and—
Smiled.
From her position on the floor, Juliana watched that cold grin slip over his face. She expected him to start firing, but…
But she heard the sound of a car racing away. Tires squealed.
And Logan stalked to the door. He yanked it open.
The man he’d called Gunner stood on the other side.
Juliana scrambled to her feet. “The cops?”
“Those trigger-happy idiots weren’t cops.” Gunner shrugged. “A few shots sent them running fast enough, but I’m betting those same shots will have the real cops coming our way soon enough.” His eyes, so dark they were almost black, swept over her. “There’s a hit on you. A very, very high price on that pretty head. So unless you want the next funeral to be your own…”
“I don’t.”
Logan offered his hand to her. “Then you’ll come with me.”
In order to keep living, she’d do anything that she had to do.
Juliana took his hand, and they ran past the now bullet-scarred side of the hotel and toward the waiting SUV.
Trust…it looked as if she had to give it to him.
Because there was no other choice for her.
* * *
DIEGO GUERRERO STARED at the television. The pretty, little reporter talked in an excited rush as the camera panned behind her to take in the destruction at the cemetery.
Smoke still drifted lazily in the air.
“Police aren’t talking with the media yet,” she said, “but a source has revealed that the limousine destroyed in that explosion was the car used by Juliana James, daughter of Senator Aaron James. Juliana was laying her father to rest after his suicide—”
Juliana’s old man had been a coward until the end.
“—when the explosion rocked the service.”
No, it hadn’t rocked the service. The blast had erupted after the service. His sources were better than hers.
“One man was killed in the explosion—”
The driver had been collateral damage. There was always collateral damage.
“—while four others were injured. Juliana James left the scene and is now in an undisclosed location.”
His eyes narrowed. The reporter rambled on, saying nothing particularly useful. After a moment, he shut off the television, then turned slowly to face his first in command.
Luis Sanchez swallowed, the movement stretching the crisscross of scars on his throat. The man was already sweating.
“Was I not clear?” Diego asked softly.
“Sí,” Luis rasped. His damaged voice was often limited to rough rasps and growls.
“Then, if I told you—clearly—that I wanted Juliana James brought back to me alive—” he shrugged, a seemingly careless move, but it still caused Luis to flinch
“—why did she nearly die today?”
Luis shifted from his right foot to his left. “I heard…word on the street is that…s-someone else has a hit on her. They’re offering top dollar…for her dead body.”
Now, that gave him pause. “Who?”
“D-don’t know, but I will find out. I will—”
“You will,” Diego agreed, “or you’ll be the one dying.” He never made idle threats. Luis understood that. Luis had been with him for five years—and he’d witnessed Guerrero carry out all of his…promises to both friends and enemies.
“Put the word out that Juliana James isn’t to be touched.” Except by him. They had unfinished business. She couldn’t die, not yet. He needed her to keep living a bit longer. “And when you find the one who put out this hit—” he leaned forward and softly ordered “—you make his death hurt.”
Because no one interfered with Diego’s plans. No one.