Page 4 of You Can Run

“Get dressed,” he said instead. “We need to leave. Now.”

Jessica shoved past him. “I'm not falling for that again.”

He moved aside, but only just, like he knew perfectly well she’d graze his arm and was daring her not to react.

She didn’t.

He let her dig for her clothes for exactly four seconds before he spoke again. “They know you’re in Texas.”

Her hands froze inside the bag. “Who?” she asked, without turning.

“Jessica.”

“Who?” she repeated, sharper.

He exhaled, long and frustrated. “You know exactly who.La Mano Negra.”

She shook her head. “You don’t get to walk in here and tell me how to live my life.”

“I’m trying to keep you alive,” he said, following.

She spun on him so fast her hair slapped her cheek.

“Why? Why now? You didn’t care enough to check in before. Not a text. Not even a goddamned postcard from whatever cactus you were hiding behind.”

He closed his eyes briefly, like he was assembling patience one reluctant piece at a time. When he opened them again, they were darker, more determined.

“I didn’t contact you,” he said, “because I didn’t want to drag you back into my mess. And because it didn’t feel like it was my place. But things have changed. Your name surfaced. Dante’s too.”

The air went thin around her. “Dante,” she whispered.

Ryan nodded once.

She tried to swallow, but her throat felt wrapped in barbed wire. Instead, she focused on yanking the red sequin dress over her head and arms. “He’s fine. He’s in Agua Dulce. Working. Living a normal life. He’s out of that world.”

Dante Cruz—Daniel Castaño, as she’d once known him—-had been her first real love, long before she understood how dangerous his world truly was. They’d made a pact to get out together, and then WITSEC had torn them apart before they even had the chance. She hadn’t even known he was still alive until a few years ago.

“There's been a lot that's happened in the last six months. Cartel informants have said that things are starting to shake loose. Names that were safe aren’t safe anymore.”

Jessica’s knees felt like water. She backed into a vanity, knocking a can of hairspray to the floor. “So, what? You want me to just leave? Walk out of my job, my life, everything, because you what? Felt like playing hero again?”

He stepped closer. “You think I’d come all this way for a hunch? Jessica, you are in danger. Real danger. And your best chance at staying alive is by listening to me.”

Her heart thudded painfully. “Ryan,” she said, softer now, “I can’t just disappear again.”

“You can,” he said. “And you will.”

The heat flared back up her spine. “Oh, we are not doing that,” she snapped. “You don’t get to ‘ma’am’ me into submission. That worked when I was terrified and running from a deranged cartel hitman and you were the only person between me and a shallow grave. But I’m not her anymore.”

He studied her a moment. “Good. Because terrified Jessica was easy to hunt down. This one might stand a chance.”

The words punched through her and she hesitated.

He saw it and moved in for the finish. “Five minutes,” he said. “Finishing getting dressed. I’ll explain outside.”

“No.”

His brows lifted. “No?”