Did she get my note? I should’ve fucking left my number.
The clerk is still typing away when my neck tingles and I turn, narrowing my eyes at the doors that are just swinging closed. Cold air hits me, but I don’t think that’s what got my hackles up. I scan the atrium and lobby and don’t see anything that raises any alarms, but I tap Booth on the arm and nod toward the big room behind us.
“Be right back,” I mutter.
I do a circuit around the edge of the lobby, pretending to gawk at all the dark wood, marble, and the decor that’s clearly a monument to local history. A shadow slips around a corner up ahead and I follow it at a distance, adrenaline creeping higher. I reach the wide staircase to the second floor and peer up, catching the tail of someone’s coat, someone who’s walking just a touch too fast for a casual guest.
Trailing them to the next level, I move to the shadows. From up here I can see clear across the lobby around the balconies, but my view is partially blocked by wide columns. I wait until the person’s head peeks out over one of the railings. They look down at Booth, then scowl and glance around the lobby—looking to see where I’ve gone, most likely.
It’s a dark-haired man in a brown jacket zipped up to his chin against the chill. He’s hunched into himself, warming his hands against each other despite the warmth of the lobby. Someone just as thin-skinned as I am. Not a local.
I silently set my bag down before slipping up behind him. He sees me too late to run, and within a breath I knock his legs out from under him and have him pinned to the floor with my forearm across his throat, my other fist aimed at his face.
“Who the fuck sent you?”
“Zavala,” he wheezes, raising his hands in surrender.
“Fucking hell, he has men all the way up here?” I ease off just a little so he can breathe.
He narrows his eyes as he scans my face. “So you’re the traitor working for the government, huh? The one who got Rafael and Emilia killed.” He spits at me, wet saliva smacking into my face. My fist cracks against his nose and blood founts from it.
The punch is probably overkill, but I’m a hair trigger away from strangling the bastard as it is. “Why are you following me? Doesn’t he have enough leverage to give him confidence I’ll deliver?”
“Fuck, man. Zavala just wants to protect his interests. I’m not here to ask questions or get in your way, just to report in that you’re doing what he wants and to make sure Amador doesn’t finish the job.”
I release him and stand back, letting the man rise. He swipes his fist beneath his nose and winces at the smear of blood across his knuckles.
“How did he know I’d be here? I didn’t even fucking know until this morning.”
“Hell if I know, hermano. I just do what the old man says. Whatever your deal is, he’s invested enough to make sure you survive long enough to deliver.”
My gut clenches. “You make it sound like he’s worried I won’t.”
“I don’t know, sounds like you aren’t the most popular man in Mexico at the moment. Word is Gustavo Delgado’s hunting you down like a fucking dog. If Zavala knows you’re here, so does he. I’d hate to be you.”
“Shit.” I lean back against the column behind me and scrub my hands over my face. I’m not surprised, but it’s one more thing to worry about. I doubt Gustavo knows why I’m here, and I’m pretty sure he’s not dumb enough to cross the border himself to find me. Still, I don’t need a bunch of thugs getting in my way.
He’s still giving me a look like I’m something he just scraped off his shoe. I shake my head. “Listen, Rafael and Emilia meant the world to me. If I knew what was coming, I’d have taken those bullets myself. I may have betrayed Zavala, but they were still my friends.”
They were more than just friends, but this asshole doesn’t need details. He hasn’t let on that he knows what Zavala has on me either, aside from the betrayal itself. Chances are he’s been north of the border all along and is out of the loop on all the drama at Zavala’s compound, beyond the bare minimum that was shared when he was ordered to track me down. I’ll let him go, but if I catch any of Gustavo’s lackeys coming after me, I’ll gut them.
He makes a noncommittal noise through the rag he holds against his nose to stanch the blood flow. “You’re lucky Zavala still needs you. Any of those Amador fuckers show their faces, they won’t get close. But that won’t last.”
I’m under no illusions about how immune I am from cartel retribution, but at least Zavala has my back for as long as I’m useful to him. I’ll just have to deal with things myself when that’s no longer the case.
Footsteps approach, and we both glance over to see Booth striding toward us, casting a wary look at my new friend. The stranger blanches and utters a soft curse.
“Well, if it isn’t Teo Sanchez,” Booth drawls. “It’s been a long time. How’s the knee?”
“You’re a son of a bitch, Booth. And lucky this is such a fancy place, or I’d throw you over that railing.” He gives me one more look and a nod. “I’ll be around,” he says before striding back the way he came, a hitch in his gait.
“What the fuck did he want?” Booth asks, watching the other man leave.
“Just checking up on me for Zavala. As if I needed more to worry about. I take
