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“No, I—” then her words sink in.
Love?Jesus, do I love Isabelle?
I’m not having this conversation with a drug trafficker’s wife, so I nod and glance at the two other women, then walk out the door.
Fucking love.
She’s wrong. What I feel for Isabelle isn’t love. Ana is just looking for a romantic story where there isn’t one. I feel responsible for Isabelle. And protective. She was mine to look after and I’ve failed her twice.
I won’t do it again.
I failed Chloe, and I refuse to let Isabelle end up like she did. I just won’t. If I have to leave Mexico without helping the other women, then it’s a choice I’ll have to make.
Which I suppose, given my very DNA is programmed to save everyone, that says she is important to me. Somehow, in the past six days, Isabelle has gotten inside my heart and I care way more than I even realized.
I need to find her.
I need her back in my arms and to kill every single fucker who touched her. I will follow her to the ends of the earth and raze it as I go.
She is mine to protect.
And Todd’s to love.
First, I need to find her.
I walk the few blocks to the Porsche, toss the luggage into the trunk, then hightail it toAeropuerto de Cuidad Lerdo.
––––––––
THE JET IS on the tarmacwhen I drive into the car park and two big motherfuckers walk down the steps.
I smile properly for the first time in hours.
My brothers are here.
“Oorah!” Nate holds out his fist and our knuckles connect. We both have shit-eating grins on our faces as I repeat the Marine’s call.
It’s been too fucking long since I’ve seen him, and while this isn’t a holiday, it’s still nice to have him with me.
Both of them are dressed head to toe in black. Fitted T-shirts, long cargo shorts, lace-up boots, and baseball caps. They’re both layered in weapons, including rifles strapped across their bulky chests.
“We need to get moving. We’ve been here for too long already,” Mack says, slapping me on the shoulder as we start walking to the Porsche.
“Really, dude? Trying to fit in?” Nate laughs.
“Thought you were on desk duty?” I reply, ignoring his smart-ass comment. Behind us, the jet powers up and starts moving back towards the runway.
“They’ll wait in Texas for our call. Too dangerous to keep them over here,” Mack says.
I give him a quick nod.
He’s right. Pablo will already know the plane has landed, and his men are likely minutes away. If they stayed, the cartel would board the plane and attempt to kill them.
All Connor’s men are former military, including the pilots, but there’s no need to keep the jet here. It’s a short flight, so we can get it back here or to whichever airport we want to evac from in time.
The boys climb in, Mack calling shotgun, and I start the engine and hit the road. Then I glance over at Mack.
“Connor pissed to be staying behind?”
