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“I’m okay. The question is, what the hell did you do?”
Despite the weary look of worry in her eyes, she smiles. “Ah, you know, kidnapped a priest at gunpoint. Tricked a ruthless gang into thinking they were under attack with fireworks. Blew up half a drug smuggling tunnel. Typical weeknight. How bout you?”
“Got my ass beat.”
Behind her, Father Javier stands in the doorway, scanning the room, and when he finds Gordon, his eyes are wide, brimming with incredulity, like it’s the first time he’s actually had to look at the man’s destruction. The first time he can’t just look away.
Takes a few minutes for Ivy to work the knots of my binds, and when she does, the ache in my shoulders is flooded with the warmth of relief. I circle my elbow in the air and the joint pops and crackles, the blood flowing back into my fingers again. Reaching out for her, I pull her to my face, and in spite of Father Javier standing there, watching us, I kiss the shit out of this woman. “How the hell did you find me?”
“Divine intervention.” She glances back at Javier for a beat. “Threatened to blow off his testicles with an M-eighty. He’s cooperating now. He’ll be escorting us to Mexicali.”
Brows winged up, I clear my throat. “How creative. I trust you’ve gotten rid of them.”
“The testicles or the M-eighty’s?”
“The M-eighty’s.”
“Of course.” She gives me one more kiss, then pushes to her feet and reaches down to help me to mine. “But should you piss me off, just know, I’ve got a supplier.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.” I swipe up the gun from the ground, and together, we hobble toward the door, but I come to a stop beside Gordon. “Give me a second, okay?”
She looks to Gordon and nods. “Aquicksecond. It’s a long walk to Mexicali from here.”
At my frown, she nods. “Yeah. We blew up the tunnel, so the only way out is through Mexico.”
“Fantastic. I’ll make it quick.” As she exits the room, I stare down at the wound oozing blood from Gordon’s stomach. Fatal wound, by my estimates. I lower my gun, tossing it behind me.
“Ain’t ya gonna finish me off?” He snorts, and a wet barky cough throws him forward. A rivulet of blood trickles from his blue lips, and the stain in his shirt is almost black with saturation.
“I’m stopping the wheel.”
Head rolling against the wall, he gives a weak smile. “If I live, you’ll be the first man I come after.”
“You won’t live. I doubt you’ll survive the night.”
He sniffs and shakes his head, his eyes weary with the weight of death. “It doesn’t end for me. Not like this. It takes more than a bullet to kill thisEl Cabro Blanco.”
“It’s not the bullet that’ll kill you, Gordon. It’s the fact that no one gives a damn enough to save you.Vaya con Dios, my friend.” I turn away from him and begin my trek back across the border.
“Damon!” he calls out from behind, his voice echoing through the empty tunnel, but I ignore him. “Damon! Finish me!”
My father would’ve killed him. He would’ve ensured every bit of his legacy perished. After tonight, though, one of the most widely known criminals in the country will die alone in an empty tunnel, miles from his home. No one will find him.
And no one will believe he ever actually lived.
39
Ivy
Two months later ...
“Excuse me, Ivy Mercier?”
Wiping my hands on the towel tucked into my jeans, I look around the small diner, where I’ve picked up afternoon shifts until I can find a job. So much for California being The Golden State. There’s nothing golden about having to serve greasy cheeseburgers and smelling like onions everyday. My gaze lands on the guy standing behind me. “Who’s asking?”
A pudgy man with graying hair and the red cheeks of a bonafide alcoholic stretches out a hand toward me. “Thomas Granger. I work for Granger and Fox Law Firm in Los Angeles. You’re not an easy woman to track down, Ms. Mercier.”
With a frown, I reluctantly return the handshake, before stuffing my hands into the pockets of my food-stained apron. “And why are you trying to track me down?”
