Page 27 of South of Justice

But now, tied to a chair in a stranger’s cabin, with a gun in his face and no backup coming, the fog around that plan felt a whole lot thicker.

“Because someone’s coming after both of us,” he said. “And they’re not going to knock.”

Her jaw flexed. She pressed the barrel of the gun to the side of his neck. The sensation was ice.

“You work for them?”

“Who?”

“The ones coming for me.”

Ryan swallowed. “No.”

“Then who the fuck are you working for?”

“No one. Not anymore.”

For a second, she looked almost disappointed.

He stared at her, blood pounding. She was close now. He could see the curve of her neck, the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the sweat at her temple. Close enough that he could smell the heat coming off her skin.

She studied his face like she was trying to decide what kind of man he was. Whether he would break easy. Whether he deserved mercy.

Her finger twitched against the trigger. Her jaw pulsed, but her expression didn’t change.

He tensed, ready to twist, to kick, anything?—

Then:buzz.

A vibration.

Lucía flinched.

The second burner phone. The one the kidnappers had left him.

Buzz. Buzz. Then silence.

She stepped back and looked down.

It was in his jacket pocket. Keeping her body as far from his as she could, she reached in carefully and pulled it free. The screen lit with a single new message.

Her eyes flicked up to his. “Who gave you this?”

Ryan stared at the phone. Then back at her. “That’s what I came to find out.”

Lucía turned the burner phone in her hand, her pulse throbbing behind her ears.

1 new message.

She tapped the screen. A line of text appeared in blocky white letters against a black background: “Clock’s ticking. Find Lucía Duarte or the boy dies.”

The message dissolved after three seconds, replaced by the blank home screen.

Her breath snagged. She stared at the screen as it went black. “Who gave you this?” she demanded, turning back to the man in the chair.

But he wasn’t in the chair. The zip ties lay on the floor. Snapped in half.

Her stomach plummeted. Then a hand caught her wrist, spun her. The phone hit the floor.