Even if I want to.
She blew out a relieved breath. “Thank you. For a minute there I thought I was gonna have to make a run for it.” Her smile returned. “Problem is, I ain’t as quick as I used to be.”
If I hadn’t been plotting the death of Carmen’s pimp in my head, I would’ve laughed. “You know how I can talk to her? Without her pimp finding out?”
Nodding, my new friend stepped closer to my truck. “Look for her in the basement of the old paper mill. She sleeps there sometimes.”
She paused.
“But word to the wise—I wouldn’t go searchin’ for her if you’ve got bad intentions. Robina Hood is a fighter. I’ve seen her take on three men at once with nothing but a busted liquor bottle in her hand and come out on top.”
Eyes moving past my truck, her smile fell. “I’ve gotta go, good lookin’,” she mumbled, body tight with anxiety. “Trouble may be watchin’.”
I checked my rear-view mirror, looking for what had spooked her, but I didn’t see anyone other than two dancing drunks.
When I glanced back to my left, the lady, whose name I didn’t even ask for, had walked away. Already halfway up the sidewalk, she moved with purpose, each of her steps coming faster than the last.
Blowing out a breath, I peered back over to the place where I’d last seen Carmen, but she, along with the lady she’d given the diapers to, was gone. Losing sight of her only served to further piss me off.
I should’ve kept my eyes on her.
I shouldn’t have let her slip away.
Convinced that I needed to find her, I stepped out of my truck. But then I quickly stopped, once again freezing in place. Without knowing who her pimp was and if he was watching, I couldn’t go after her.
Unsure of the situation, I had to be careful.
I wasn’t too worried about myself.
Instead, I was worried about her, a woman I’d just met, and one who’d stolen from me no less.
Yet, despite that, something about her called to the darkest parts of me, and though it made no sense at the time, in my heart, I knew that I was meant to save her.
And that’s precisely what I intended to do.
No matter the depths I had to go.
Five
Carmen
Two Weeks Later
It was el hombre’s eyes that did it.
The color of sunlight shining through whiskey, they were beautiful, astoundingly so, but it was the demons that danced deep in their fiery depths that had stolen my attention.
Before I saw him inside the drugstore, his face covered in ash and clothes smelling of charred wood, I’d never known someone’s eyes could hold so much power.
But with one look, his had captivated me.
Haunting my every thought since the moment I’d crashed into him and stolen his wallet, I’d become fixated on seeing him again.
And it was because of that same inexplicable fixation that I found myself standing across the street from the Toluca Fire Department, covertly watching him from afar.
Finding him had been simple thanks to the uniform he’d worn that night, along with the first responder decal affixed to his windshield.
Part of me almost wished it hadn’t been.
If I hadn’t known where to look, I wouldn’t have chased after him, and if I hadn’t chased after him, I wouldn’t have spent so much time hiding in the alley where I stood, my gaze glued to him as if he were the second coming of Jesucristo himself.
I craved the very sight of him.
Luckily for me, the fix my body demanded was an easy one to get since James was outside often. And whether he was playing basketball with a small group of guys, one who was obviously his son if their shared looks were anything to go by, or working in the open bays where three fire trucks and an ambulance sat parked, I tried not to let him out of my sight.
And what a sight he was to behold.
Standing at what I guessed was several inches over six-foot, his shoulders were wide and his arms strong. Chest broad, his stomach was flat, his hips lean, and his thighs thick with rock-solid muscle.
His body, which I suspected many women took notice of, was perfection, but if possible, his face was even more beautiful.
Possessing full lips, a nose slightly crooked from where I suspected it had been broken, and high cheekbones, he was gorgeous, with the small scars adorning his chin and right cheek only adding to his intrigue instead of detracting from it.
His hair did it for me too.
Cut short, it was a silky black mess with a light spattering of grey near his temples. But it was his strong hands, along with his hypnotizing eyes that held my rabid thoughts prisoner. I’d tried, I honestly had, but I couldn’t get the feel of him holding me as I’d nearly fallen out of my head.
Though strong, his touch had been gentle.
It had unnerved me.
The night I was kidnapped back in Colombia, I’d never even kissed a boy, and the experience I’d unwillingly gained from predatory men since had been anything but kind and tender.
The way he’d held me after I nearly crashed to the ground made me feel safe.
Unthreatened.
It made little sense, and because of that, I knew it had to be the last time I found myself in that alley.
I couldn’t afford another addiction.
Being hooked on dope, even if I didn’t do it every day, was bad enough. Adding a second, one I wasn’t sure I’d be able to kick if I let it continue, would be catastrophic.
With an escape to plan and mi chicas to save, I couldn’t let anything, whether it be drugs or a man I’d wronged, distract me.
From him, I had to make a clean break.
When I left this time, it had to be the last.
“Watching you was fun while it lasted, James Cole,” I said, calling him by the name I’d seen printed on his driver’s license
