“Oh.” Heat rushed to her face.
“Before we start worrying about the future, how about we make sure we actually have one? We still have a long way to go to get home.”
Just like that, he switched from being tender to discussing business.
“I’m going to head out for some food and clothes for the two of us.” He climbed out of bed and dressed, his trousers as filthy as her clothes but not bloodstained. “You hang here. Keep the curtains closed. Don’t go out. When I get back, we’ll eat, and then take off.”
“I wear a size six.” He hadn’t asked, but he would need to know. “Where exactly are we going?”
“I’m working on that.” He grabbed his sunglasses, his pistol, and the car keys, then pressed a kiss to her nose. “Size six. Got it. Don’t open the door for anyone.”
“Hurry back.”
“I’ll do my best.” He unlocked the door, stepped outside, and was gone.
Gabriela wrapped herself in the sheet, then washed her face, brushed her teeth, and turned on the television. She had expected to find news of Ruiz’s death, but there was nothing about him or the fire at his hacienda on any of the channels. Why would anyone want to keep that a secret?
The moment she asked the question, she knew the answer.
His death had created a power vacuum. The top position in one of the world’s wealthiest crime organizations was open. Someone didn’t want anyone to know Ruiz was dead—not until he had secured his position and taken that power for himself.
With any luck, the cartel was too busy killing its own to come after them.
Have you been lucky so far?
No. Except for Dylan.
He’d come after her when Pitón had tried to take her for himself. He’d done everything he could to keep her safe, enduring far more than he’d signed on for with this mission. He’d picked lead out of her and stitched her up.
He’d made love to her like no man ever had.
That doesn’t mean he loves you.
Of course, it didn’t.
When she’d brought up the future, he’d changed the subject. He was right. Now wasn’t the time or place. But she couldn’t shake the worry that this was nothing more than a fling for him. Which completely sucked.
She was in love with him.
God, she was an idiot!
She was on her first solo mission, and she justhadto fall in love with the first sexy former SEAL to come along and rescue her.
Well done.
Then her face appeared on the TV screen.
“Police continue to search for Sister María Catalina, who was abducted from a Mission in El Vigía. In a twist, police believe she and the man she is traveling with may have been responsible for the murders of thirteen men near San Antonio del Táchira last night. More on this story as it develops.”
How would they know any of that? How would they—
Imelda.
Of course. The cook. Gabriela had heard her scream. She’d seen.
¡Mierda! Shit.
Sánchez and his men were still looking for her. The cartel would be coming for her, too. And they knew now that she wasn’t a nun.