Page 16 of The Lost Guardian

“Get in the tub,” she said, and he did what he was told. Ali’s eyes quickly scanned the room. “What is directly under that window?”

A loud banging began at the door of his bedroom. Santiago instinctively ducked behind the lip of the tub.

“The window, Rios! What is under the window?” she yelled, pressing her frame against the tile. Once the smoke dissipated, it wouldn’t take long for the men to break their way into Santiago’s bedroom.

“The window?” Santiago repeated, dazed. Then he looked above him at the curtain that hung over a double window. He had almost forgotten it was there. He blocked the view the first week he moved into the apartment, wondering what kind of architectural pervert would put a window on the inside of a shower. Sure, it was high enough that anyone outside would really only see his head and upper torso, but he’d be naked for God’s sake.

Poor Brooke showered in the pitch dark whenever she had to use it, which was both dangerous and inconvenient.

“Rios!” Ali yelled again.

“Uh, uh, a garden!” he burst out. “The apartments share a garden! Bushes and grass…”

“Good enough,” Ali answered, turning her gun on him.

“Wait, wait, wait!” he yelled as she pulled the trigger, ducking back down into the tub. A shower of glass shards rained down on him. She had shot the window.

“Jump!” Ali yelled.

“Jump?” he cried. “Are you joking? We’re on the second floor!”

The hail of bullets firing into the bedroom intensified.

“It’s either jumping or that!” Ali called, hopping in the tub with him and clearing shards from the window ledge with the butt of her gun.

“I can’t; you can’t just—”

Ali grabbed him under his arm and over his hip, squatted, then shoved him through the now-open window.

Santiago plummeted toward the ground.

5

Damn, she’s strong, was his only thought as gravity claimed him for the second time that day.

Unlike the rock wall, there was no top rope to slow his descent. A searing pain in his shoulder and side knocked the inopportune realization from his mind, and before he could even grunt “ow,” Ali landed in a neat squat beside him. She rose, reaching out a hand.

“Who are you?” he demanded, looking up at her. He could just make out her features against the black of the night sky, the soft glow of the apartment lights casting shadows over her face.

“Your grandfather sent me,” Ali replied. “I’m here to help.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Santiago demanded.

The corner of Ali’s lips turned up in a small grin. “Swearing, Mr. Rios?” she teased as she quickly led them around his apartment complex. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“Stop,” Santiago grunted, struggling against the ache in his ribs to keep up with her ground-eating strides. “Just explain. Please.”

He knew his voice sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. He felt dizzy, caught between the pull of anxious energy and a bone-numbing weariness. As if his body couldn’t decide how best to protect him. To keep him on high alert or have him pass out to avoid the madness of his reality. However, Santiago knew that he would get no respite from either until he got some answers.

“What is happening?” He caught up to Ali as she stopped at the edge of his building. “Why are there men with guns in my apartment? Why are you here? What do any of you want with me?”

“I told you,” she responded, placing a hand on his chest to stop him before leaning to peer around the corner. “Clear,” she murmured before dragging him along.

“You haven’t told me anything!” Santiago argued, pulling his wrist from her grip.

Ali merely continued, flinging open the passenger door of a dark-blue car and motioning for Santiago to enter.

“I told you that your grandfather sent me,” she corrected him.