“The State Department keeps tabs on people like you, El Tiburón. Of course we’d find out you came into the country.”
“I did not come through the normal routes.”
“You were smuggled in. I know. I have contacts.”
“But maybe I am not here for this Charlotte.”
Ubie didn’t even acknowledge that with a comment.
The tension in the room ratcheted higher with each passing second. One man would ease toward a gun on a dresser, and Uncle Bob would shoot him a warning glare. Then another would lower one hand toward a gun in his holster. Same story. Different caliber.
But they would get the best of him and soon. He couldn’t keep up the standoff for long. What the hell had he been thinking?
“I’d like you to know, I’m actually doing you a favor,” he said. “Charley’s husband is the son of Satan. He would’ve done much worse.”
The man remained impassive, but I felt his pulse skyrocket. In hunger. He wanted to eat Reyes, too. Fucker.
I turned toward my husband and startled at the look of rage on his face. Pure, unadulterated rage. “Reyes, they couldn’t have killed you, anyway, right? It’s okay.”
He all but gaped at me. “You think I’m worried about me?”
No. Of course he wasn’t. “But they couldn’t have killed me, either.”
“There are worse things than death.”
Oh. Crap. That didn’t sound promising.
In a sequence of events that was so fast it took me by surprise, guns from every corner of the room were drawn.
I could barely get out the words Be still before several fired.
Bullets slid through the air, two from the guns Ubie held, slowing to a complete stop. He was fast. I’d give him that.
He stood frozen to the spot. Not because I’d stopped time, but because he was shocked and confused. I’d stopped time but kept him in the loop. Then Reyes and I materialized so he could see us.
He noticed me out of the corner of his eye, dropped to his knees, and swung his gun around way faster than I’d thought him capable. A defensive maneuver that left me completely impressed. But he paused, his gaze fixating on me. His brows slid together in disbelief.
I rushed forward. “Uncle Bob,” I said, patting him to make sure a bullet hadn’t hit its mark. “What the hell were you thinking?”
“Charley?” He glanced from me to Reyes and back. Then he scanned the truly frozen occupants of the room. “What are you…? I don’t understand.”
I knelt beside him. “What were you thinking, coming here?”
“I… what are you doing here?”
“I had Angel watching you.”
“Why? You knew Valencia was in town?”
Shaking my head, I said, “No. But we’ve had surveillance on you for a while for a completely different reason. You were supposed to be killed by a kid named Grant Guerin. We were tailing you. Trying to make sure he didn’t succeed.”
“I don’t even know a Grant Gue —” He looked around at the statuesque figures, the blood draining from his face even more. “How did you…? What happened?”
“I just slowed time. These men were going to kill you.” I flung my arms around his neck. He patted my head absently, the shock settling in and growing roots.
Reyes went around collecting guns and tossing them into the briefcase.
“You can… you can stop time.” It wasn’t a question. It was said more as a matter-of-fact statement that he was trying to wrap his head around. I got that.
“Not for very long. Uncle Bob, why did you come here alone like this?”
“What?”
I thought about slapping him like they did in the movies, and I might have if he weren’t holding not one but two guns. “Why did you come here alone?”
“I got word. I… Valencia was smuggled into the country.” He nodded. “He saw that video Amber showed you.”
“The puppies yawning?”
“No.”
“The puppies wrestling?”
“No, the —”
“Did it have kittens?” I watched a lot of kitten videos. “Or Ellen?” And Ellen clips. She rocked so hard.
“The possessed one. The girl and the man with the machete and —”
That didn’t really narrow it down much. Then it hit me. “Oh, right, the one of me exorcising a demon out of that little girl in Africa.” I cringed. “Bad lighting. And when my face bounced off the floor, the sound was all wrong. It was much more of a dull thud. I swear someone overdubbed it.”
He blinked at me, the lights on but nobody home. “He wanted to —”
“Eat me? Yeah, Reyes told me. He also told me what you did two years ago to those men who were going to abduct me and take me to El Jefe over there.”
“El Tiburón,” he corrected.
“The Shark? I like it.” I hugged him again, taking complete advantage of his mental state. “Uncle Bob, you are amazing, but you were slated for hell because of what you did for me.”
He finally tore his gaze off the statuesque – and not in a Michelangelo sort of way – men and focused on me. He let go of one gun and put his hand on my face as though it were a precious jewel. “Pumpkin.” Or an autumn fruit. “I knew the consequences before I had walked through that door.”
I gasped softly. “Uncle Bob. I don’t… I don’t know what to say.” And I didn’t, so I just hugged him. Again.
“What do you think?” Reyes asked, still seething. “A tragic succession of broken necks? They’re all going to hell, anyway. I say we move up their arrival date.”