I didn’t hear her sneak up behind me until she spoke. “I don’t believe your story.”
I turned and grinned at her. She was standing with her arms crossed over her chest, and I had the irrational and insane desire to kiss her. She looked so fucking sexy glaring at me angrily.
I missed that pout. I missed that serious expression. Fuck, I missed everything about her. She had no idea how many times I had thought of her in the dead of night down in Mexico.
There’d been plenty of other women. There had to be, considering what I was doing down there. I couldn’t afford to look weak in front of my employers. But there hadn’t been a single woman that held a candle to Lacey, even the Lacey that I knew, the girl from high school.
I regretted a lot from those days. I regretted the way I drifted away from her, the way I treated her. I hated that I couldn’t see what I had right in front of my face. Instead, I went looking for more exciting things, more drugs and more parties. I wanted to live life to the fullest. I wanted to burn out instead of fading away.
But that was stupid.
All of that shit, it all led me down to Mexico and into my current situation. It only got me more danger, more heartache and sadness, more pain and regret and death.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Seems too easy. You were in a jail for four years and we never heard about it?”
“It’s Mexico. They’re not exactly great at keeping records.”
“Still. Lynn and Dad tried to find you, even hired a private investigator. There’s no way he wouldn’t find you down there.”
“Maybe he wasn’t as good as he said he was. Plus, I wasn’t using my real name.”
“Still. White guy in a Mexican prison? Not exactly hard to find.”
I shook my head. “There’s a surprising number of gringos in prison down there.” I stepped close to her, loving the way she reacted to me. “What do you want me to say, Lacey? That you’re right? That I’m lying?”
“I just want the truth from you for once in your miserable life.”
I sighed. I wanted to tell her so badly, but it was too soon.
“I already gave you the truth. It’s not my fault you don’t want to listen.”
“It is your fault, actually. It’s your fault you ran away and your fault you came back.” She paused and stepped back. “I wish you had stayed dead.”
I reached for something to say but found nothing. Instead, I just grinned at her. “Good seeing you too, Lace.”
She turned and walked back up toward the house. I watched her ass, remembering how badly I used to want to grab it and press her body against mine, and felt that old desire come whirling back through me.
She had always been stubborn. That was part of what I liked about her. She was smart and strong-willed and absolutely sexy when she wanted to be. Hell, she was fucking gorgeous and probably didn’t realize it.
I waited until she was safely back inside before I crossed the street and headed back down the block.
Up ahead, I caught sight of Trip’s black Nissan parked up against the curb. I walked up and pulled open the passenger side door and climbed in.
“How was it, Lazarus?”
I shrugged. “Not bad. They took my resurrection better than I thought they would.”
Trip laughed and turned on the engine. He was a few years older than me, a few inches shorter, and a few pounds heavier, but every bit as capable. We met when I first came to town in Mexico City, and we had been partners ever since.
Partners in everything, including the shit storm that was slowly building in the distance.
“Catch any sightings?” I asked him.
“Nah. Perimeter’s all quiet.”
“Good. I’ll take first watch if you want to head back.”
“Fine with me.”
I leaned back in my seat and he looked at me for a second.
“It’s weird being home,” I said.
“You’re telling me. But at least you got a home.”
“Please. You’ve been an orphan forever. The street’s your home.”
“And don’t you forget it.”
I laughed. “How long do you think we have?”
“A few days at most. We got a good head start, but you know Castillo.”
I grunted and shook my head. Jorge “El Tiburon” Castillo was our old employer, and the current leader of the largest narcotics cartel in all of Mexico. They specialized in crystal meth but dabbled in heroine and marijuana as well.
Castillo was a terrifying man. I hated working for him, and so did Trip, but we did what we had to do to survive. I had learned a lot working with the cartel, plus a lot on the side, but he wasn’t called “The Shark” for nothing. El Tiburon was tenacious, nasty, violent, and a little bit insane. He wasn’t the sort of man you crossed and expected to live, no matter how far or how fast you ran.