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I catch up to Isabella, both of us far away from the gate now that I stop looking back to see if there are any fuckers coming after us I need to shoot, and I just run. Run like our lives depend on it, because they do.
The spot where I hid the bike behind the boulders and brush comes into view, right as I hear the sounds of shouts coming from Javier’s compound. “I’ll get it running!” I shout to Isabella. “Jump on as quick as you can!”
I lunge forward, shoving my gun into the waist of the sweatpants I was given to wear as I grab the bike, righting it and firing up the engine. The roar of it fills the air, alerting anyone close enough to hear what’s going on, but we’re past worrying about that now. Just like we’re past worrying about taking the time to put on a helmet, or the fact that I don’t have any fucking shoes on. The road gravel is going to tear up my feet, but better that than getting caught again and dying.
Thank fuck I had the foresight to leave the keys here and my wallet in the saddlebag.It’d been a risk—someone could have happened upon it and stolen the bike and my money, but the alternative would have been risking losing both if I’d gotten caught in the compound…which I had. I’d gambled on being far enough out that no one would find the bike, and I’d been right.
Isabella manages to scramble onto the bike behind me, her arms going around my waist trustingly. It makes me think of that last night when we rode out into the desert, and she was no longer afraid of the bike, but I don’t have time to think about that. I hit the throttle, the bike skidding and wheels spinning in the sand as I get us back out to the highway, pushing it faster than I ever have before with Isabella on the back. I hear gunshots, Javier’s men with long-range rifles that might be able to hit us, but I don’t look. I don’t pause. I don’t do anything but gun it as fast as it’ll fucking go because that’s our only chance. I can’t fight them all alone.
I can feel the heat of Isabella clinging to me, her arms and body pressing against a dozen nearly fresh wounds, but something in me doesn’t care. I should be furious beyond words with her, ready to raise holy hell in an argument when we get a chance to have an actual bloody conversation. Still, I can’t seem to muster it just now. Maybe not at all. All I can feel is relief that I have her here with me, that we’re getting well away from Javier and his horror of a fortress, that we might just fucking make it.
All three of us.
My heart rate doesn’t start to level out until we’re out of the canyons, heading towards a town further out. I’m not heading back towards her father—Diego would expect me to take her back to Ricardo. As of right now, I’m hoping he doesn’t suspect that the plan is to extract her to the States, so I’m not concerned with backtracking, just getting us as far away as possible. Once we’re settled in somewhere long enough for me to contact Liam, I’ll figure out what airfield we need to go to in order to get the fuck out of here.
Every sound of an engine has my pulse spiking again, wondering if it’s Diego’s men after us, but we seem to have lost them at the moment. I took a side route out of the canyon, switching roads a few times and trying to keep our path from being as linear as possible. It seems to have paid off, even if I haven’t been in as many chase situations as some of the men I’ve worked with over the years.
I don’t stop at the first town we see, either. I keep going past a couple of them, until I notice my gas gauge is getting low and the sun is getting close to setting. The next town that appears in the distance, I aim for, and it’s just about twilight when I pull in at a small restaurant on the main street.
“We need to get some food in you,” I tell Isabella. “In me, too, but I’m more worried about you. Come on.”
“Won’t they think something is wrong? Just look at us.” She gestures between the two of us—my bruised and swollen face, her scraped-up arms and bruised jaw, both of us in clothes filthy with road dust, and me with bare feet.
I’m not sure if a place this far out in the desert has a no shoes, no service policy, but she does have a point. The last thing we need is to get the local police called on us.
“I’ll go in and order us some food,” Isabella suggests. She looks drawn and tired, as if she’s barely managing to st
ay on her feet, but her voice is calm, and it impresses me. A lot of women would have been in shambles right now—hell, a lot of men, too. But she’s on her own two feet, trying to help me figure out our next steps, and it makes me feel things that I hadn’t expected to feel for her after what we’ve been through.
I’ve known women with more experience of the world and more years on them than Isabella, who wouldn’t have been able to withstand the events of the last week, and still show that kind of grit.
That would be the kind of woman you need if you were going to settle down. Someone who doesn’t flinch and doesn’t faint.It was what had attracted me to Saoirse, beyond just her beauty and our chemistry—her pragmatism and strength in the face of adversity and disappointment. But she’d been stubborn as hell, too, and that had ultimately been the downfall of whatever we could have been.
Isabella might be young and rebellious, but she doesn’t strike me as particularly stubborn. Saoirse would have dug her heels in and refused to bend to Diego or Javier, no matter the consequences, I know that for sure. But Isabellahadbent, had seen when fighting made no sense any longer and accepted the consequences to try to salvage what she’d done. That had impressed me, too.
“Alright,” I concede, fishing some bills out of my wallet and pressing them into her hand. “I don’t care what you get, as long as it’s hot. I’ll see about a room and a change of clothes for us both. I’ll meet you back here in about twenty minutes—don’t leave here. I don’t want you wandering around a strange town alone, not looking like that, and not in your condition.”
Isabella flushes slightly at the mention of hercondition. I can see the glimmer of confusion on her face, probably her wanting to ask if I mean the baby or her bruises. But she doesn’t say anything, just nods and takes the money, disappearing into the small restaurant.
