Page 60 of Business vs. Pleasure

“Amazing.” He reached into his back pocket for his money clip and counted off ten hundred dollar bills. “I’ll give you a thousand dollars to be the driver while I find someone. I’ll give you another thousand to drop us off near the airport and return the car once we’ve got him.”

Her eyes went wide. “You really are crazy.”

“But completely serious.” He waited, arm outstretched, money barely protected by the curve of his hand, and tried to keep his expression steady. He wasn’t about to force her to help him, but if she wasn’t on board then he needed to find someone else ten minutes ago to⁠—

“Fine.” She pushed off the wall and grabbed the cash. “But if you’re messing with me, I’ll leave you in San Miguelito.”

“I’m not, but that would be easy for you since that’s where we’re going.”

She shook her head. “Of course it is.”

August literally felt his blood pressure drop when he got back into the car on the passenger side. He waited for his driver to adjust the seat to her liking, then pulled out his phone. Ricardo’s location was still live. “We need to get here.”

She glanced at it and grimaced. “Could be worse, but we better find him fast. I’m not staying in that neighborhood once it gets dark.”

“Fair.”

They didn’t speak once she got them going, either because it was clear August wasn’t in the mood to chat or because she needed to save all her attention for the roads. She did a much better job than he would have, navigating the streets with ease and using her horn to do everything from signal which way she wanted to turn to inform people they needed to scoot over. Every few minutes she looked back at the phone, and they gradually got closer and closer to Ricardo while the buildings and roads got more and more run-down, cars either rusted heaps or nonexistent.

“We better find him soon,” she warned, her knuckles blanching where they gripped the wheel.

“We will.” August pulled up the text log.

No more hide and seek, get where I’ll be able to see you. I’m in a red Kia that’s seen way better days.

Ricardo

Got it.

Not ten seconds later, the familiar figure of his errant husband appeared on the side of the street. “Here,” August said, and the car stopped with a squeal of tires. He rolled down the window and did a quick once-over on Ricardo. He looked okay, except for… “What the fuck happened to your hand?”

“Scorpion sting,” Ricardo said mildly as he opened the back door and got inside. “Heidi says I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Oww,” their driver said. “Was it a little orange one? Those hurt the worst.”

Ricardo arched an eyebrow. Did you seriously bring a civilian into this?

August raised both of his in response. Did you seriously expect me to be able to navigate these streets on my own?

Ricardo sighed.

That’s what I thought. “Let’s go,” he said, and forced himself to turn around and act like he didn’t want to get back there and go over every square inch of Ricardo for injuries he might be hiding.

Getting back to the airport was far easier than getting away from it had been—or maybe it was the lack of constant adrenaline that just made it seem that way. As soon as August recognized the street where he’d gotten them a hotel room, he had them pull over, took out another thousand, and handed it to her. “Thanks for your help,” he said. “If you don’t mind dropping the car off in the parking lot of the Metromall, that would be great.”

She blinked at him. “Just…wherever?”

“Just wherever.” If the owner really valued the car, he wouldn’t have left it idling on the curb. Even August knew that. He heard the back door close and got out himself, then turned, looked at Ricardo, and pointed down the street. “Move.”

They walked in silence, got to the hotel in silence—a decent compromise, not as upscale as August usually liked but probably not as low-profile as Ricardo would have preferred—and got to the room in silence.

August locked the door behind them. “Jacket off.”

“August—”

“Now. Right now.”

Ricardo sighed and eased his jacket off his shoulders and down his arms, being especially careful with the right one. “I’m fine,” he said as August took his hand and inspected the sting. The flesh around the little mark was swollen and hot to the touch. He let go and headed for the door.