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14
DECKER
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Ineed to tell Isabellethe truth about where we’re headed and what my plans are, but I’m not sure how she’s going to take it. It’s important to me that I do this, but I understand Izzy is scared and just wants to get home.
I’ll get her fucking home, but I can’t leave Mexico before I try.
Six years.
I can’t just walk away from the biggest shipment of women and children the cartel has imported. I couldn’t live with myself.
There’s a cartel foot soldier who lives a few miles away. I visited once with Diego and Miguel. He has no reason to help me—except for the cold hard cash in my backpack. I’m hoping he’s as poor as he was a year ago and will be motivated to do what I need him to do.
No one is loyal in this country. They fear the cartel, yes, but they aren’t loyal. If I make it easy for him, and worth his time, then he should at least listen.
But there are no guarantees, and he could double cross me.
This is why I said it’s very dangerous.
Because it is.
I glance at Isabelle, wondering how opposed she is to dying her hair black and chopping it off. It would make things a lot easier.
“Put the black cap on and tie your hair up,” I say, and glance down at her creamy thighs. She’s wearing a pair of denim cutoffs which I thought were sexy at the time and are now haunting me.
No sex.
It’s like a Christmas goddamn miracle when she tugs her hair into a low pony and pulls the cap out of her small backpack that we got her earlier in the day without questioning me.
“Left here and then right at the next intersection,” she says, picking the phone back up.
“I’ll make sure you’re safe, but you—”
“Need to do as you say. I know,” she says, taking a sip of her water bottle.
I reach out my hand and she gives it to me. I take a long sip and hand it back. When she takes it, I catch myself and wonder when we started drinking out of the same bottle. Neither of us didn’t even falter.
Life on the run.
