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Mack glances back at Nate. “No. What’s this about?”
“Decker, I told you to stay the fuck away from her,” Nate growls, and I grip the steering wheel.
Is he kidding right now?
“Oh, when was that Nate? When you threw her at me and told me to get her home. In the middle of a mafia massacre.”
Nathan leans forward and gets in my face.
“First, I didn’t throw her at you. You had your big fucking bod lying over her like some kind of bullet-proof vest.”
“Pot calling the kettle black,” Mack mutters, but we ignore him.
“Not the point. You should have taken them both,” I snap and spin to glare at him while Mack takes one side of the wheel. “I’m a cartel member. What the hell did you think was going to happen?”
God, it feels good to be yelling at him.
“You’re a goddamn Marine. I thought you could get her somewhere safe. We were in theUnited. States.” He throws up his arms.
My phone rings in my pocket and I throw Mack’s arm off and direct the Porsche to the curb, as I rip out my phone.
“Speak,” I snarl, shooting Nate a glare as Mack shakes his head and rubs his jaw.
22
ISABELLE
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We’ve been drivingfor hours before we finally stop. I’m starving, need the bathroom, and am increasingly shaking with every mile I am separated from Decker. One of the men pulls me out of the car and I’m taken inside a storefront and led out the back.
He tosses me into a small room with a mattress, a few single plastic chairs, and barred windows. There is a toilet in the corner with no walls.
Like a prison.
Oh, god, how did this happen? How did I end up here?
