“What is it?” she asked impatiently, her stomach knotting painfully. “Did he get away?”
Montrose flipped his phone shut and hesitated. “Do you have anywhere to go? That’s safe, I mean.”
Home. A hot shower, then a nap in her own bed sounded heavenly . . . but Hunter’s earlier warning and the detective’s sudden jumpiness made Kata rethink that. “What happened?”
“The man who tried to kill you today was stabbed within ten minutes of hitting his cell. Inside job. Professional.”
Kata started to shake. “He’s dead?”
Nodding, Montrose ripped off his sunglasses and stared with grave, dark eyes. “Whoever is after you went to great pains to clean up his loose ends. He means business.”
Hunter was right; this attack hadn’t been random. In fact, her assailant had admitted that he was doing a job. Someone had hired him—then, once he’d been caught, snuffed him before he could talk to the police.
“They haven’t ID’d your would-be killer yet. He had no ink linking him to the Gangster Disciples or anyone else. That doesn’t mean anything, but maybe your murder would have been his initiation or . . .”
“He looked too old to just be hitting the streets.”
He sighed. “Yeah, who knows? But you need to be careful. Stay someplace safe for a while.”
No shit. But where? Kata started to shake again, reached out for the chair behind her to steady herself. Someone wanted her cold in a grave—quickly.
Home was too obvious. She couldn’t go to Marisol’s without putting her sister and nephews in danger. Nor could she risk her mamá. Gordon would only make her mother’s life worse if she dropped by unannounced and asked to stay. After everything Mamá had been through, Kata couldn’t make the woman’s life harder. Besides, the less time Kata had to spend with Gordon, the better.
Where did that leave her? Driving to her brother, Joaquin? Was he still in Houston? She didn’t know. For the past year, he’d been deep undercover—he’d never say who for. Joaquin was like a ghost to the family, there but not.
Kata sighed, raked her hand through her hair. Ben didn’t deserve to be in danger, and their friendship had been strictly casual, convenient. Maybe she could grab her gun, withdraw some cash, then run for it, staying off the grid until things cooled down. But if there was a hit out on her, the matter wouldn’t be resolved until whoever had hired the gun called it off or she was dead. Not palatable choices.
Through bits of conversation over the last few hours, Kata had gleaned that Deke was half owner of a personal protection business, along with some guy named Jack, who was out of town. Tyler, a former homicide detective, helped out from time to time. Could she persuade them to help her for the right price? Possibly . . . but they were Hunter’s friends. They’d defer to him.
That left her with her new, unexpected husband. If she asked for his help, would he see that as some sort of implied consent to take over her life? Maybe that sounded paranoid, but she’d seen Gordon in action for too many years, and Ben had already warned her that Hunter liked to dominate. But both appeared to be control freaks with a deafness to the word “no” and a knack for manipulating matters—and women—to their liking.
Maybe it wasn’t fair to lump Hunter and her stepfather together. Kata knew she hadn’t been at her most magnanimous last night. And her husband appeared to lack Gordon’s mean spirit.
You’re so fucking gorgeous, honey. Hunter’s voice echoed in her head, very different from the way Gordon talked to Mamá.
She sneaked a glance at Hunter. He stood tall, focused, his stance and body that of a warrior. He would be totally capable of keeping her out of harm’s way. But haunting memories of his large hands heating her skin, shoving her thighs apart, his threat to tie her to his bed, plagued her. He’d gotten to her on every level, more than any man ever had.
Even so, avoiding the vulnerability and fear he pushed her to feel wasn’t worth dying for.
“Do you have someplace to go?” Montrose barked again in low tones, breaking into her thoughts.
Where she wouldn’t have to sleep with one eye open and a gun under her pillow? “No. But Hunter will.”
GRIPPING the steering wheel of Tyler’s truck, Hunter stared at the thin traffic meandering around Lafayette early on a Sunday evening The sun shone, the birds sang. People on the corner ate ice cream. And the fury bubbling inside him tested his composure to its limits.
Some asshole wanted his wife dead. His brief but enlightening conversation with Detective Montrose made matters worse.
Hunter’s only consolation was that she had come to him for protection. Somewhere inside that stubborn woman’s head and heart, she trusted him. He would work with that—as soon as he figured out how to end this threat to her life.
“You did the right thing in letting me protect you,” he assured. “I’ll take care of it.”
Kata shook her head, the inky, long hair brushing her arms, the tops of her breasts he remembered tasting. Her lips still looked swollen, her eyes a bit red and heavy from lack of sleep. The adrenaline crash had to be gnawing away at her energy, but other than one dicey moment earlier, she refused to show weakness.
Too bad his adrenaline hadn’t come down yet. All he wanted to do was beat the hell out of whoever wanted to hurt Kata. Or fuck her. Preferably both. Didn’t look like either would happen for a while.
“I appreciate your help, but let’s get one thing straight.” She turned to him in the cozy cab with a warning glare. “I turned to you because I’m not sure I can do this alone, but I don’t want you to take over.”
In his book? Same thing. She had no experience with this kind of shit, and he’d be damned if he’d let her put herself at risk for the sake of her stubborn pride. She could decorate the house however she wanted, name the pets, choose the vacations. He’d give her a lot of latitude during their married life, but he was in charge when it came to sex and her safety.
With Kimber’s words ringing in his head and Kata’s desertion this morning playing in an endless loop in his brain, Hunter wished he could afford to back off. He couldn’t, but maybe he could find a gentle way to make her see his logic.
Hunter nodded in her direction. “All right. What did you have in mind?”
Her expression told him that she hadn’t thought too much about the answer. “I—I guess a safe house somewhere, at least until the police catch Cortez Villarreal.”
“I’ve got a safe house.”
Logan probably wouldn’t appreciate the added intrusion of another person on his leave, but tough shit. If Hunter knew one thing, it was that his brother was every bit as cautious as he was. Logan’s bachelor pad was full of military-grade security. Hunter would handle the rest of his brother’s special equipment on an as-needed basis.
“Good.” She nodded, looking shaky and near her breaking point. “I appreciate that. As soon as I’ve had time to think, I’ll start taking care of myself, but for now, I think you hiding me is the best move. Almost no one knows we’re connected, especially someone on the street like Cortez Villarreal.”
“About that . . .” Hunter wished he didn’t have to give her bad news now, but there was too much at stake to withhold the truth. “Let’s think this through. The assassin said he was hired, not that his street boss had told him to roll you over. From what the detective said, he couldn’t see any tattoos that identified the shooter as a Gangster Disciple. For argument’s sake, let’s say that he isn’t a street thug but a real hired killer.”
Kata recoiled, looking even paler. Clearly, she hadn’t let herself seriously entertain the notion before now. “B-but if that’s true, why did he miss me when he shot? How did I get away?”
As much as he hated to burst her bubble, he had to press on. “I’d guess it’s because you gave him more fight than he expected, and you threw him off guard. That he’s a professional fits. When Deke tackled him, the guy was carrying a SIG 232. The barrel was threaded so he could use a silencer, if needed. It was in his pocket, in fact. We’re talking about some of the best equipment. Not impossible to fall into a gangster’s hands—”
“But unlikely.” Her voice shook, then she closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath. “What else? I can hear it in your voice.”
Smart girl . . . She’d been through a lot in the last twenty-four hours—marathon sex, an unexpected wedding, a hangover, and an attempt on her life. Kata was shaken but not defeated. His respect for her went up another notch.
Hunter tried to lay this out as gently as possible. “Usually assassins are like ghosts. They’ll just ‘clean up,’ take out a target with a high-powered scope and sniper rifle at a distance. The closer an assassin is to the target, the greater his risk of being caught or ID’d and jeopardizing the mission. But if the person hiring the assassin wants others to know the target was intentionally iced, then when they hire the killer, they’ll tell him to put on ‘a show.’”
“Th-the guy who came after me was putting on a show.” Kata didn’t ask; she knew. Nervously, she swallowed.
“Yes.” Why else had he come in such close range, onto the target’s turf, eschewing his silencer, rather than waiting on the high-rise across the street until she walked into the parking lot? Whoever had masterminded this attack wanted to make a public statement. Question was, about what? And to whom?
This whole episode might be related to a gangster’s revenge or Kata’s temporary disruption of his drug trade. But that didn’t feel right. And if there was already a warrant out for Villarreal’s arrest, why put on a show like this and piss the cops off more? There were a lot of ways to make an example out of someone without spending the time and money to hire an assassin.
Fuck. “We need to keep trying to figure out who would do this to you.”
“I’ve wracked my brains, but—”
“I don’t want you to worry about it now, honey. You’re exhausted. Sleep for a bit. We’ll talk in a few hours.”
“Hours? My apartment is on the other side of town. I need a few things before we go anywhere.”
Hunter steered the truck onto I-49. “No stops. We’re going to Dallas.”
“What about my suitcase? It was in the trunk of my car. Did you get it from Tyler before he drove off in it?”
“No. Getting you away from there quickly was more important.”
Kata looked lost and frustrated. He understood that she was angry at the situation, not him—but he was the only available outlet for her irritation. He wished she wouldn’t wear herself out unnecessarily . . . but Kata wasn’t a soldier trained to contain her emotions, channel them to something useful.
“I—I need my vitamins, a toothbrush—”
He leveled a stare at her across the cozy truck’s cab. “Is there anything at your place that’s more important than your life?”
She sighed. “No.”
“I’ll buy you replacements once we reach my brother’s place.”
“I have to have clean underwear . . .”
Hunter did his best to distract her with a smoldering smile. “Honey, if I have my way, you’ll never need those again.”
Kata rolled her eyes and did her best to look annoyed, but he saw the blush crawl up her cheeks. “You think about sex all the time.”
He smiled. “When you’re near me, yeah.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, but not before Hunter noticed that her nipples had tightened. “We have more important things going on, you know.”
“Unfortunately, I do. Don’t worry, honey.”
As she closed her eyes for a moment, some of the starch left Kata. “Hard not to.”
Hunter grimaced. Every mission he went on, he figured that he had an enemy who would kill him if he didn’t finish them off first. Hell, he knew a few of those shadowy figures from his past had put hits out on him. In every case, they’d given up or Hunter had made sure they went down instead. Kata had no experience with this, and it had to be scaring the hell out of her.
Still, he tried not to step on her toes.
“Any plans beyond tonight? How are you going to rid yourself of the threat?” He didn’t think she had the first idea. He’d love to be proven wrong, but if not . . . well, he needed her to admit that before he moved in and took over. Or she’d be blazingly pissed.
“I c-can call some of my cop friends, like Trey, see what they might have heard. If this wasn’t Villarreal’s work, I have to figure out who ordered the hit . . .” Kata paused, blinked, then looked up at him with a furrowed brow before wrenching away.
But not before he saw tears in her eyes.
Hunter hated seeing his wife, so assertive and sexy, looking ready to crumble. Once he figured out who the motherfucker responsible for this threat was, he’d be lucky to live long enough to take a last breath.