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"What?"
"I dug a hole in the desert, and put Carlos in it."
There was a sudden knot in my throat. "My necklace."
He nodded. "Carlos said it was someone from Veracruz. It must be an old enemy of mine." He chuckled darkly. "If so, they waited a long goddamn time. I killed off those fuckers nine years ago."
"After they killed your family," I defended him fiercely.
"They deserved it," he agreed. He stared out across the pool thoughtfully. "Carlos said a man named caminante was after us. Do you know anyone named that?"
I shook my head. "No."
"Or how it might relate to his nickname? You know those cartel fuckers are superstitious. They'd call him that for a reason."
I tried to think. There was a hint of familiarity that I couldn’t quite put my finger on, like a flavor I’d tasted before but couldn't name. When I tried, the familiarity would vanish. "I don't know." I sighed, rubbing my eyes. I was exhausted. "I'm sorry."
"When I find out who it is, I will kill him, then every goddamn cartel member who helped him."
"Antonio." I whispered, remembering that guy who'd tried to rape me, but Antonio stopped him.
"Who?" Knight's stare was intense.
"No one." A soft breeze blew my hair, making a shiver work its way up my spin.
"Come on." He helped me up from the ground. "We need to find somewhere safe. Then we're going to figure out who the hell this caminante is."
ELEVEN
My eyes sprung open, fear gripped my heart, seizing in my chest.
Every nerve on alert.
I tightened my hold over Tatiana's belly, the feel of her flesh comforting, making my breathing begin to slow. There was a phantom pain in my fingers, a stark reminder of what Russia had taken from me, as I slowly etched my finger over Tatiana's skin, warm and soft.
She was here. Safe.
It'd been two days since someone had stolen her from my arms. Since they'd drugged our wine and almost killed her. And ever since, I'd lived and breathed in a murderous rage, trying to tamper it down just enough as to not scare Tatiana.
But the itch was under my skin –– ready to kill at a moment's notice.
We were in a safe house, deep in the middle of King territory, and the anticipation was making me restless, waiting for Torian to interrogate the hotel employee who'd brought our food that night.
A low sound drew my attention and I strained to hear the mumbled conversation outside my door.
I recognized Coulter's voice immediately, talking to Romeo, the guard standing watch. The door was ajar, letting a sliver of light run up the opposite wall. I tilted my head, indicating to Coulter that I was already awake.
He didn't answer but just stood in the doorway, waiting.
I pressed my lips to Tatiana's temple, inhaling the scent of fresh ocean air, a flutter of a memory, no doubt, before whispering softly, "I'll be back."
She stiffened in my arms, signaling that she, too, was awake and rolled over, her fingers trailing after me as I stood from the bed.
"He can come in," she murmured softly, and I nodded at him.
The small lamp by the floor bathed the room in a soft, yellow light. Coulter was wearing jeans and a black t-shirt, his hair rumpled, and worry etched the edges of his eyes.
Gone was the carefully curated smile, the mask of indifference he usually wore, replaced by a look of concern. "Torian reached out."
