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A blast of noise has me on my feet and Isabelle shoved behind me in less than a second. I reach for my two guns and growl quietly for her to stay there.
Only it’s too late. Three Mexicans burst into the room with their guns pointed directly at us.
Fuck.
I’m aiming at them and swiveling between the three heads, but we all know it’s pointless. I’m one man. We’d both be dead by the time I clocked the first guy.
Isabelle lets out a cry and the predator in me is ruthless. I need to kill them.
But I can’t.
“Drop the guns,” the man with a scar on his face orders. Slowly, I lower it, my other hand letting go and showing them my palm.
“Easy, boys,” I say, lowering to the ground and moving back to Isabelle.
“Stay where you are, amigo.” The one with the AC/DC T-shirt says.
I ignore them, and with my arm lifted, I move her tight into my side. They don’t shoot, which tells me they are here for her and don’t want to risk harming her.
She’s a bounty.
“Let’s talk this out,” I say, watching every single move they make.
“What did you do?” I hear Ana cry outside the room. A bunch of noise tells me there are more men out there. Or at least one.
“You’re coming with us,” Scarface says to Isabelle.
Over my dead body.
But it will be, considering I was undressed and distracted. I don’t have any knives or a gun tucked into my shorts. They are on the table and the backpack is in the way, so the three-armed men can’t see them.
“No, please!” Isabelle cries, pressing her face into my arm.
“How much is Pablo paying you? Because I can pay you more. Just turn around and walk out.”
AC/DC guy snorts out a laugh.
“Lockwood, you know that’s not how these things work. Hand her over, and Juan will deal with you.”
I know they’re cartel members. Whether they are Garcia, I can’t tell. I don’t know all of them, nor do I recognize these guys.
“Driving a stolen Porche through this neighborhood. You made it way too easy for us to find you.” Scarface smiles.
Yeah, but I parked it four blocks away, then ran back last night. So that’s not how they found us.
Someone snitched.
As the men nudge us out of the room, I catch Javier’s sister's eye and immediately know it had been her.
Bitch.
I shake my head and then spot Ana staring at Isabelle.
“I’m so sorry. It wasn’t me.” She cries.
“Sit,” Scarface tells me and pushes me down into a kitchen chair. It gives me a chance to take in the entire situation.
There are two men out here.
