Page 17 of The Lost Guardian

She had said that. In the moment, Santiago had been too preoccupied with having just been thrown out of a second-floor window, not to mention the men who had been shooting at him, to properly register her words.

He folded his long body into the car. In a moment, Ali was in the driver’s seat. Just as she turned on the engine, however, one of the back doors was thrown open and a blur of motion jumped in behind them. Before Santiago’s fear could even consider reigniting, Ali twisted her body around, gun supported in both hands. He had a split second to notice golden hair before he shoved the weapon down.

“No, no, no!” he yelled, adrenaline spiking in his veins. “She’s my friend!”

“Don’t you ever do anything like that again.” Ali looked between his hands and her gun and gave him the kind of look he imagined an antelope might see in their final moments before being eaten. She jerked her arms from his grasp, then shook her head.

“We don’t have time for this,” she muttered, peeling away from the curb and onto the street.

Brooke’s eyes were saucer wide, still staring at the space where the gun had been. Then they shot to Santiago.

“Santi, what is going on?” she demanded.

“I have no fucking clue,” he said, trying to buckle his seat belt while still looking at his friend. It took a couple of pulls before the fabric stopped catching. “What are you doing here?”

“I forgot my bag at your place,” Brooke started, “but by the time I came back, people were running around screaming and I heard gunshots. Before I could find out anything, I saw you running away with this woman.” She motioned to Ali. “So I followed to see if you were okay!”

“You came to my place, heard gunshots, and didn’t think to call the police?” Santiago was appalled.

“Excuse me—” Ali started, but Santiago cut her off.

“Creek! When you hear gunshots, call the police!” he admonished her. “You don’t run headfirst into a potentially dangerous situation!”

“The cops were already there!” Brooke said, dismissing his concern with a wave of her hand. “I was more worried about you! I saw you with her.” She pointed accusingly toward Ali again. “But by the time I caught up, you were getting into this car and now here we are.”

“Excuse me,” Ali repeated, louder.

“You didn’t think to run away from the sound of gunfire?” he replied, still stunned by her lack of self-preservation.

“It was coming from your building! I wasn’t going to leave you!” Brooke answered with a frown. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”

“I am so far from being okay.” Santiago grabbed fistfuls of his hair.

“Excuse me,” Ali said, slamming on the brakes and twisting in her seat to glare at Brooke. This time, Santiago and Brooke both stopped to stare at her.

“Finally,” she muttered, leaning forward. The action made her shirt pull low, and Santiago did his best to ignore how good she looked. Brooke clearly had no such qualms. Her eyes widened as she took in Ali’s exposed skin.

Santiago coughed pointedly, and Brooke rolled her eyes, but when they settled, it was on Ali’s face rather than her chest.

“Forgive my manners,” Brooke said, voice dropping half an octave as she shot Ali a charming grin. “I’m Brooke, Santi’s best friend. And you are?”

“Don’t flirt with her!” Santiago gasped, recognizing that heavy-lidded stare. “This woman may have kidnapped me, and you’re flirting with her?”

Brooke raised her right shoulder in a casual shrug, her eyes still on Ali, who looked amused.

“I haven’t kidnapped anyone.” She smirked. “At least not today.”

Santiago huffed. “It’s green.”

“My name is Ali,” she told Brooke, turning her attention back to the road as the car accelerated through an intersection.

Santiago narrowed his eyes at her. “Is that even your real name?”

Ali shot him an exasperated look. “Yes,” she replied. “Alliyma Palacios. You can call me Ali.”

“Alliyma is a Quechua name,” he noted—the primary language of the Inca Empire was still spoken in Indigenous communities in Peru to that day.

“It is,” Ali confirmed.