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“Deal?” I press when he simply stands there looking at her as if she holds some of the answers.
“I can get you to the border, but I’m not guaranteeing I can get you across.”
“Good enough,” I tell him.
I follow Angel to his truck, slowing my steps so as not to get too far ahead of Ayla. She doesn’t seem as eager to climb inside of the cab with him, but eventually makes the decision to leave with us when she settles into the back seat of the quad cab truck. She’s so close to the door, I feel the resistance when it presses to her body as I close it.
Angel doesn’t say a word as he pulls out of the small parking lot of the bar. I can see his eyes darting to the rearview mirror as if he has to keep an eye on her because he’s worried she’s going to pull out a weapon and overpower the both of us.
The woman isn’t broken. She’d been fighting the entire time she was in captivity, only it looked different from what others had to do to survive. I think it makes her stronger, that ability to do horrible things to protect someone else.
It’s as if my energy drains from my body with every mile Angel carries us closer to Texas.
“We’re not being followed,” Angel grumbles after I dip my head once again to look in the side mirror of the truck.
I fight the urge to sleep, the constant rocking of the truck making it nearly impossible. My eyelids are heavy, the insides of them feeling like sandpaper from a lack of decent rest.
I doubt Ayla can sleep either, especially riding in the truck with a man who has made it known he doesn’t trust or like her. I’m glad she didn’t absolutely refuse the help because I would’ve had to stay behind with her, and I want nothing more than my own fucking bed.
We’re heading east toward Reynosa. I’ve traveled this road more times than I can count. I’m aware of the dangers, of the bandits that lie in wait for tourists to get lost or run out of gas. Not all citizens in Mexico are corrupt and immoral, but there are enough who are that makes the possibility of trouble very real.
Angel’s phone rings, LAUREN flashing on the radio console.
Like a model citizen, the guy pulls over to the side of the road, letting it go to voicemail. He doesn’t say a word or make apologies as he pulls her number back up.
“Hey,” she says, answering after the first ring.
“I’m not alone,” he says immediately, making me wonder what the woman would say if she hadn’t been warned.
I’ve witnessed a little of the dynamic between these two and it resembles more of a controlling, obsessive relationship rather than a healthy regular pairing. It’s the glint in her eyes when he growls a command that tells me it’s perfect for the two of them.
The line goes silent, making me think she has to reevaluate what she’s going to say. Angel must read it the same way too because a slow smile spreads across his face, like he’s pleased he’s been able to throw her off guard.
I shift in my seat. Lauren Vos makes me a little uneasy. For as much as she folds her will for Angel, she has ten times that when facing everything else. She’s quite possibly the strongest, most fearless woman I’ve ever met, which has to make her submission to Angel one of her more attractive traits.
“We’ve got eyes on water. Will probably take a dip in an hour or so.”
“You may have to reevaluate,” she says, understanding exactly what he’s saying, despite it being in code. “The pool is closed. Overcrowding. Probably isn’t the best time for a dip.”
We’re heading to the border. The pool they’re referencing is the Rio Grande. The overcrowding means company. It could be border patrol or militia. Either way, crossing right now isn’t advised.
“That’s unfortunate. I was hoping to dive deep tonight.”
I roll my eyes and look out the window, knowing the code has taken on a certain level of teasing and some form of delayed satisfaction regarding their sexual relationship.
“Maybe tomorrow will be better for a swim.”
“I think the pool will be closed for a few days,” Lauren says. “But I think it’ll be well worth the wait.”
An annoyed rumble bubbles out of Angel’s throat. He wants to get back home to his woman and child.
I turn, looking over my shoulder at Ayla, and she doesn’t look happy at all. I can tell she understands what the conversation meant.
Honestly, I don’t know that the extra precaution is necessary. He’s using a burner phone and the likelihood of it being tapped is slim to none, but Angel doesn’t take many chances. All of us live an existence with a very healthy dose of paranoia.
