“Nope. Vel-crows.”
She gave a short bark of laughter. Short because it quickly morphed into a groan of pain.
“And that’s my cue.”
The new voice with the Irish lilt came from the man equal in height to Triumph. His hair was also dark and on the longer side, but it was gathered up into a ponytail that lay against the top of his head, with the sides cut into a fade. Pulling on a pair of latex gloves from his pocket, he moved past Triumph and went to the far side of the bed. He placed a backpack on the bedside table, immediately peeling up the blood-soaked shirt she wore. His green eyes were focused on the wound as he poked at the area, causing her to hiss in pain.
His eyes flicked up to hers. “Sorry about that. Hate to tell you this, but it’s going to hurt more before I’m done.”
“I get it. Can I at least know the name of my torturer?”
He smiled. “Sassy. Reminds me of my Cherry. You’d like her.” He looked back at the wound, then began rooting around in his backpack. “My name is Demon. My teammate’s name is Steel.”
Her glance shifted for the first time to the smaller man, and her eyes went wide in recognition.
“She knows me already. Hello, Gilly.” He called her by her legend’s name, a shortened version of Gillian.
“Ildefanso,” she murmured. “How?—”
“I’ll fill you in when we have more time.”
Possibly the worst person to walk through her door other than Guillermo, but for completely different reasons. Steel—born Ildefanso Colonel—had been his father’s bastard son and lead enforcer. He had a reputation for absolute cruelty. He was cold and distant with everyone, including his family.
However, despite his lack of warmth and the gruesome stories she’d heard about what he’d done for his father, she’d never felt his cruelty directed at her. For the most part, he’d ignored her. On the rare occasion he set his eyes on hers, though, she’d felt one step away from exposure. Like he knew who she really was. But if he had, why would he stay silent?
He hadn’t been around long though. Apparently, he had a big secret of his own. He was working with a DEA agent, delivering information on his family to that organization, and he attempted to flee the compound with his wife and son. They escaped, but not without their son being gunned down in the process. The whole situation had struck her as incredibly tragic.
Now, here he was in her hotel room—helping her, his stepbrother’s fiancée, flee that same family. Before his flight from the compound, she never would have trusted him. But now? Knowing what she did? It helped to strengthen her resolve.
Triumph swore. “Fuck. I forgot. I was so fucking worried about getting to you before you bled out, I didn’t even think about the fact that you’d know Guillermo’s stepbrother.”
Steel ignored Triumph’s remarks. His voice was cool and unaffected, but she sensed no dishonesty from him. “It’s good to see you again, little spy, although I wish the circumstances were better.”
“Little spy, huh?” The nickname was appropriate, and it made her grin despite her pain. “I always wondered if you knew.”
“Sí.You hid who you were well. I didn’t know at first, but I knew something was off. When I finally figured it out, I didn’t want to risk outing you since we had the same endgame in mind, and I knew our respective organizations would never see eye to eye on working together.”
“I’m sorry about your son.”
He nodded.
“After everything that happened in Bariloche, rumor had you dead. Guillermo never said otherwise. How’s your wife?”
“Daleyza’s pregnant and doing well.”
Steel stepped up to the other side of the bed. “Where’s your houseguest?”
“Bathtub.”
She noticed for the first time that he had a large bag with him that looked like it held ski equipment. He immediately turned and went into the bathroom. The sounds that emerged from behind the partially closed door sounded like he was unpacking the bag.
Demon cleared his throat. “Last but not least, the jokester is your buddy, Triumph.”
“Did all your parents hate you or something? I sincerely hope those names aren’t on your birth certificates.”
He grinned as he began to clean the area around the wound with a sterilizing wipe. “Nicknames. Protection so bad guys can’t trace us to anyone. How’s your pain tolerance?” Demon asked.
“Well, I cry if I get a paper cut, so it’s not good.”
