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“Where to, miss?”
I blink at the crisp English from the cab driver and narrow my gaze at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “You’re American?”
“Yep.” The man with a dark tan and white teeth nods. “Retired down here years ago. That gonna be a problem?”
“Not for me. Where are we, exactly?”
The cabbie frowns, but he covers it quickly.
“I was here visiting my boyfriend,” I rush to explain in an effort to throw him off my scent. “We got into a fight, and I got out of the car here, only I’m not exactly sure where here is.”
He shakes his head and grumbles about young kids these days. “Shouldn’t leave you out here alone. Never know who you could run into,” he mumbles. “Bogota is the nearest big city.”
Of course, Emiliano would take me someplace close to home where he has some influence. “Oh, okay. Perfect. Can you take me to El Dorado International?”
“The airport?”
“Yes, please. If you get me there as fast as you can, I’ll offer up a big fat tip.”
“Well, senorita, now you’re speaking my language.” He flashes a broad smile that’s almost friendly. “We’ll be there in about an hour,” he explains before turning his focus on the road. He weaves in and out of traffic, somehow avoiding the gridlock until he slams on the breaks just outside the airport. “We’re here, Miss.”
His gravelly voice breaks through my thoughts, and I blink up at the sight of the automatic sliding doors.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks.
I nod and put on the biggest smile I can. “Sometimes a girl has to take a risk on a guy, and many times she is wrong,” I tell him. I pay my tab and offer him up a fifty percent tip. “If anyone asks, you’ve never seen me.”
“Seen who,” he says before tucking the bills in his Hawaiian-style shirt pocket, then takes off like he’s the one being chased.
I take one last look at the Colombia sun, give the pedestrian walkway another suspicious scan, and step inside the air-conditioned airport. I’m still not able to breathe easily despite now being free and clear of my captors or jailers, whatever the fuck they are. I give myself time to get my breathing under control before I approach the ticket counter.
The pretty brunette smiles at me and waits patiently for me to decide. “How can I help you today,” she asks in rapid-fire Spanish.
I know where I’m going, back to my man. To Dix. But I need to be careful. Just because I’m free and clear of that mansion doesn’t mean that I don’t have a tail, or worse, that they won’t track down the cabbie and extract information from him however they can.
“I’d like to book a ticket,” I tell her and shudder before the following words are out of my mouth. “A coach ticket,” I confirm.
“Destination?”
Los Angeles would make me an easy target for anyone paying attention, whether it’s my brother, the American cops, or anyone else.
I need to be the one thing no one expects a cartel princess to be. Smart. Reno would be unexpected, but I can blend in easier with the tourists in and out of Las Vegas. I scan the screen above and smile when I see a flight leaving in thirty minutes. “Round trip to Harry Reid International, thanks.”
“Passport?” she asks. I reach into my bag for my passport.
A kidnap victim with a secret passport? It’s the way this cartel princess rolls.
During my kidnap in California, I filched it from my green purse. Emiliano had looked away for a second, just before he hit me with the hypodermic needle. Enough time for me to tuck it into my jeans. Why? Go figure. At the time, I’d rather have grabbed the pepper spray, but such is life. I’m happy now to slide my passport onto the counter.
Twenty minutes later, I have my tickets, and I’m inching through the security checks. I can relax, at least a little, until the plane is in the air and taking me closer to my heart. My man.
I’m on my way, Dix.
My plan is simple. Land in Vegas and rent a car because, although my brother is a total fucking monster, he’s also the idiot who never noticed I also had stuffed my driver’s license and credit cards into my jeans. The only thing missing is my phone, so I’ll need to stop at a store to get one before I head west to California.
To Angel Harbor.
To Dix.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dix
It’s been almost a month with no word from Valentina. Her fuckface father or his psychopathic son, Benedicto, haven’t given us any indication that they know where she is or if she’s safe.
But we keep moving their product and banking the cash.
It’s a safe bet they’ve purposely kept her in Colombia and away from me. But until I have confirmation, I refuse to give up. It’s not my style, and I don’t plan to start now when the woman I love could be in danger.
