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Yeah right. Obviously, I had no business teaching a child anything. I’d make sure Scar and the child never wanted for anything, but I’d leave the parenting to her. She would be a good mother. I could so easily picture her with a baby in her arms. But what would that baby look like? Like me? Or would it look like one of the fuckers I’d killed? How would I be able to look at the child if it looked like one of them? And would it be a constant reminder to her of what I’d let happen?
Maybe it would be best if she didn’t keep the child. Vicente could take care of that. Except, I already knew she wouldn’t want that. And maybe, as fucked up as it sounded, I didn’t want that either. Whatever else this baby was, it was half Scar. How could I want to destroy that?
Nearing the meeting spot, I forced every ounce of attention on my surroundings. I had to make absolutely certain I wasn’t being followed. Mateo had to have no idea what I was up to. So, taking a convoluted route, I wove in and out of streets, looking for any sign of a shadow. Nothing.
That wasn’t surprising, I supposed. Mateo wouldn’t be expecting me to seek outside help. Hell, the cocky son of a bitch probably thought I had no idea what was going on. Still, I drove past the meeting spot, looking for any signs Michael had been followed. Still nothing.
Circling back, I pulled off the road and into the wider cluster of brush that would keep us hidden from the main road. Michael was already there. I knew he would be, which was why I’d passed by to look for a tail.
Two deep breaths and I got out of the car. Michael was standing by his driver’s side door, windows not tinted and his hands visible. He was doing everything to show me he wasn’t up to anything, and now it was my turn.
I pulled the guns out of the holsters on my chest and tossed them onto my seat before approaching him. Since I wasn’t the trusting type though, the gun at my ankle was staying where it was.
“Hello Derek,” he greeted when I stopped four feet away.
“Michael,” I nodded back.
“She’s still alive?—she recovered?” His concern seemed genuine.
“She’s alive. The recovery is a work in progress.”
He nodded. His eyes looked guilty as hell, but I understood it. At times I still wanted to rip him apart for standing idly by while they’d tortured her, but I couldn’t. We both knew he wouldn’t have been able to do a god damned thing on his own. They would have killed him for trying, and then he wouldn’t have been there to help me get her out.
“Then, pardon my bluntness, but what’s going on?” he asked.
Blunt was good. I didn’t have time for anything else. “Marcos Caballero—he wasn’t the top of the totem pole. I killed him, and his boss wants me a little bit dead.”
“I never knew Caballero answered to anyone.”
“That was the idea. No one was supposed to know.”
“So, where do I come in?”
I explained the basics of my plan, that I was planning to walk into the trap, but I needed him to be getting Scar the hell out of here at the same time.
“I want to help, Derek, but you should know I’ve ended up with a few shadows the past couple of weeks. Not everyone has liked what I’ve been up to.”
“That’s why you’re going to come home with me now, and stay there until you take off with her.”
It wasn’t actually part of the plan, but hearing he might end up with people following him, I couldn’t take the chance. It was going to complicate the time I had left with Scar, but it was the only safe option. He’d seen her there in that basement though, and she had to know it. This wasn’t going to be easy on her.
“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”
I scoffed. “Of course not, but what choice do I have?”
He nodded again, though he didn’t look any happier than I was. “When I was in that room…watching on the monitors…I’d never seen them like that before—not brutal like that. The things they did to her…she looked so much like my wife…” The man’s voice was cracking and his eyes were brighter than they’d been a minute ago. “Derek, does she know…about me…the monitors?”
“She’s never asked, and I haven’t told her, but…”
He nodded once and then dropped the subject. Neither of us wanted to be remembering Scar in that basement.
“All right, let’s do this then,” he said. He opened his car door, grabbed a bag off the passenger seat and then moved to the trunk.
When he opened it, I couldn’t help but laugh. This was definitely a man after my own heart. The entire trunk was filled with a small arsenal.
