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But when she did, he was ready. Fucker’s head encountered Raul’s knee on his way down to the floor. Hard. And now Fucker was hog-tied and on his way to being dumped on SSS’s doorstep, the third man that had happened to.
Raul checked constantly on Emma as he drove. He needed to reassure himself that she was okay. She sure seemed okay. She wasn’t dissolved in hysterics, as she had every right to be, considering someone had threatened her life not too long ago.
She was a little paler than usual, but composed. Looking out the window but not seeing anything. Her eyes weren’t tracking what was outside, but what was inside. He was used to this. Felicity and Hope would disappear inside themselves like this, in a fugue state it wasn’t smart to interrupt, because it meant they were working something out.
He hoped she was figuring out what the hell was going on, because in twenty-four hours he was tempted to channel his inner caveman and drag her with him to Portland, whether she wanted to go or not.
He didn’t want to bully her. Normally he wouldn’t even contemplate making her do something she didn’t want to do. But her life was at risk and no one knew the direction the risk was coming from. Raul was willing to compromise but he wasn’t happy with this compromise – staying in the city where there was danger to her.
He turned into a leafy road in the suburbs, carefully reading the street numbers through massive foliage, and there it was. The Black Inc safe house.
Black Inc did things right. It looked upscale and comfortable, on a quiet street. It looked like a normal upper middle-class home, the kind that had a lawyer dad and professor mom, 2.5 kids designed in a lab to be doctors and lawyers, with maybe an allergen-free dog.
But Raul knew it was a fortress. Black Inc would have made it nearly impregnable. On the console between seats was a remote control and he had all the codes. For the gates, for the garage, for the front door. It would have carefully disguised security cams all around, IR sensors, motion sensors, even sensors that could distinguish, by weight, animals from people. The walls would be coated with a substance that was impervious to radar and infrared. The windows would be treated and bullet resistant and the shutters bullet proof. Most Black Inc safe houses nowadays had door handles embedded with HD video cameras and smart locks equipped with biometric fingerprint scanners.
Raul had no doubt that Black Inc had retrieved his fingerprints and Emma’s and programmed them into the security features.
Emma was going to be safe here. And while she was here, he was not going to be more than a hand’s span from her. Nothing was going to happen to her.
The codes worked, as did his handprint, and soon they were inside.
Raul dropped his bag and both Emma’s bags – she insisted on carrying her own electronics – and looked around. Some safe houses, particularly those which weren’t used much – looked like abandoned morgues. Dead flies, pizza cartons stacked in corners, musty smells. This wasn’t anything like that. It was a perfectly pleasant space, nicely decorated without any personal touches. Like a four star hotel suite. It still smelled of lemon polish. It wasn’t going to be a hardship staying here.
He stood in the foyer, bags at his feet, almost quivering with … something. Some strong emotion he couldn’t figure out. The neutral colors and soft armchairs didn’t help. He couldn’t square what he was seeing with what he was feeling – restless and anxious. Raul didn’t do restless and anxious. What the fuck?
“Raul?”
He whipped his head around to Emma, who was dressed in a green cotton sweater, tan cotton pants and loafers. The perfect outfit for whatever it was they were going to face.
She put her hand on his chest. “Are you okay?”
It was as if her hand burned through his clothes to his skin. Was she sensing something wrong with him by touch?
He put his hand over hers.
“No,” he said starkly. “I’m not okay.”
She just looked up at him and said nothing.
“You could have died back there.” His voice came out scratchy and deep, rough. As if he hadn’t spoken in years.
“I know,” she said softly. “I was terrified I’d end up like Toby – drugged and tied to a bed.”
He closed his eyes in pain. “I kept seeing your brains splattered over the wall.”
“Yeah,” she answered. “Management would have been so angry. It takes forever to get blood out.”
He spluttered out a laugh, though it wasn’t a laughing matter. He opened his arms just as she walked into them, both having the exact same thought at the exact same time. To be as close together as possible.
Raul held Emma tightly, hoping he wasn’t crushing her but his arms simply wouldn’t loosen up. He’d been especially frightened that he’d be dead and they could do what they wanted with Emma. What brutal men could do to women didn’t bear thinking about, but Raul had seen it. He tightened his grip around her.
She wriggled in his arms. “Raul? I need to breathe.”
He looked down at her, at that lovely, intelligent face that in a short span of time had become so important to him.
“Breathe through me,” he ordered, and kissed her.
She kissed him back, oh yeah. It was many things, heat and desire, but for both of them it was a celebration of life. They were alive, both of them, when they could have been dead. The Martinez clan would claim his body and bury him in the family crypt in San Diego. His parents, his siblings, his abuela—they would all weep bitter tears at his loss.
