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It might not be the smartest thing to do, but at least this way, Jag would know about our baby. No loose ends left untied.
13
Jag
“This is ridiculous.” I tossed the remote on the wobbly coffee table in disgust. “I fucking hate TV and hate waiting.” I was not a complainer, so I knew the tight confines were really getting to me for me to be bitching about El Cuchillo’s non-appearance after a week trapped in this shithole in the hot as Satan’s ass desert. The landscape here was damn depressing. I missed the trees and rolling hills of Austin. Oh, and coming and going as I pleased.
Sammy glanced up from the bank of computer crap spread out all over the kitchen table and gave me a dry look. “So go work out.”
“Right. In that musty, armpit-scented, hundred and fifty-degree garage? No thanks.” There was a bench and enough free weights to get a decent workout if you liked exercising in a sauna, but that wasn’t what I needed. What I needed was to get the fuck out of here. If I could go for a long run, I’d feel a thousand times better.
Hell, if I could talk to Miri for even one minute, I’d feel a million times better. Half of me couldn’t ignore the overwhelming instinct to protect her, keeping me stuck in this shitty house. Half of me, the half ruled by my heart instead of my brain, was screaming to make sure she was okay, to talk to her, hold her, calm her fears. The need was clawing at my insides, urging me to find my woman and take care. Not letting her out of my sight for the rest of my life. I rubbed my eyes and sighed.
The rest of my life.
When exactly did fixing the broken doll who showed up on my doorstep turn into something more? When did Miri become someone I couldn’t live without? Someone I wanted to claim as mine. To mark, letting everyone know she was with me, all others knowing they should back the fuck off?
Twitchy and frustrated at how long this stakeout was taking, I stood and paced the room. A year ago, if someone had told me I’d be going out of my mind being separated from a woman for a few days, I’d either laugh or shoot them between the eyes. Yet here I was, irrefutably in love with the tiny redhead who’d trespassed on my life and set up permanent residence in my previously empty heart.
“Boss!” Frank burst through the front door, back from his grocery run much too soon. His face was pale and his voice rang with an urgency I couldn’t ignore.
I sprang to my feet and met him in the entryway. “Tell me.”
Frank held up his phone. “Just got a call. Someone asked about you at the Citgo on the loop.”
Sammy glanced up from his computers, giving his full attention to our conversation.
I stood in front of Frank and maintained my deadpan facade, but inside, the monster reared his bloodthirsty head and gnashed his hungry fangs. Finally. Cuchillo was here. Boss was rejoicing, more than ready to finish this shit and have long-awaited revenge.
My eyes narrowed. “Asked about me? In what way?”
Frank trembled, his lips pressed in a tight line. Something was wrong. My stomach flipped at the sight of my driver’s hesitation, because Frank was not a man who was easily rattled. I knew if Frank was anxious, then whatever he had to say was something I didn’t want to hear. “She showed a picture of you to the clerk.”
“She?” Reacting without thinking, the façade slipped and I stumbled back a step, clutching my shirt where it lay over my heart. “What do you mean, she?” Shaking off the shock, I regained my composure and snatched the phone out of Frank’s hand.
“The clerk sent me a picture of the visitor,” Frank said, subtly moving out of my reach.
I touched the screen to wake up the phone and my now hammering heart plummeted to my feet. Holding my breath, I stared at the image for several long seconds, saying nothing as a myriad of emotions warred beneath the surface of my too-tight skin.
Sammy finally broke the silence. “What’s going on?”
Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Frank making hand gestures telling Sammy to shut up.
When the blood finally stopped pounding behind my ears and I unclenched my teeth long enough to speak, the last threads of my civility snapped. A red haze dropped behind my eyes, clouding my vision.
“What the actual fuck?” I roared. “How i
n the motherfucking hell did she get here?”
“I-I called George on my way back,” Frank said, sliding back to put more distance between us. It was shocking to watch. This was the first time I’d ever seen Frank show any kind of fear. “George said Miri was sick…” Frank paused when a low growl rumbled in my chest. “They took her to the hospital.”
“And?” I stepped into Frank’s personal space, unable to contain the rage. “They fucking lost her? No one called me?” My chest was heaving as I tried to remain calm enough to finish the conversation before completely losing my shit.
“No, Boss. It…” Frank licked his lips nervously. “It appears she snuck out of the hospital. None of them knew she was gone until I called. They… they thought she was in the back being treated. When I spoke to George, they were all still sitting in the waiting room at Seaton. The staff wouldn’t let any of them go back with her. You know hospitals, Boss, everything takes so damn long, it never occurred to George that she wasn’t being seen. That she would leave. And it’s so damn crowded, the staff probably didn’t notice her absence.”
I closed my eyes and clenched the phone so hard the case cracked. When I… not exactly calmed down, but got my shit under control enough to loosen my grip, I tossed the phone back to Frank. The man caught it and moved even further away, recognizing the ticking time bomb inside of me.
“If Miri is in Laredo, why the fuck are you standing here instead of finding her and making sure she’s not grabbed by Cuchillo?” I hissed.
