Beautiful Sacrifice

passwords.”
    “You know how to use a handgun?”
    Her eyes snapped open. “Handgun, shotgun, and rifle. Sometimes I worked alone at remote sites.”
    “Ever shoot anything but a target?”
    “No. I don’t particularly like guns.”
    “Neither do I,” Hunter said. “But at least you understand which end bites and how to keep it from biting you. That’s more than most know.”
    More time slid by with the night, fragmented into darkness and light, seething with unknowns.
    “Why would someone called El Maya want me enough to kill for me?” she asked finally.
    “I don’t know. When I find out, I’ll know who gave the orders that ended up with blood all over Jase.”
    Hunter didn’t say any more. He didn’t have to. Lina understood that someone now had the kind of enemy that made nightmares look cozy.

C HAPTER E LEVEN
     
    L INA WOKE UP WITH A START WHEN THE J EEP SLOWED AND took an off-ramp leading to a street. Houston’s flash and glitter was nowhere in sight. Nothing but an overcast night and car lights whizzing by on I-10. Her neck hurt from sleeping against the window and her skin was chapped from scrubbing blood off in a gas-station restroom on the outskirts of Houston.
    “Where are we?” she asked.
    “South Padre Island.”
    She rubbed her eyes. “The beach. That explains the salt smell.” She must have slept for hours. “Any word on Jase?”
    “He’s out of surgery.”
    The tightness around Hunter’s mouth made her stomach sink.
    “And?” she asked unhappily.
    “Still critical. Ali’s parents are with her, taking care of the kids.”
    “I’m sorry,” she whispered.
    “Not your fault, any of it.” He stopped for a light. “You warm enough?”
    She shifted the jacket he had put over her. “Yes. What about you?”
    His eyes checked the mirrors as regularly as breathing. “I run hot.”
    The sound of air rushing and rippling over the canvas top was white noise, something she had stopped hearing after the first half hour on the road.
    “Are we being followed?” she asked.
    “I lost them after the gas station.”
    Scattered lights told of houses and strip malls hacked out of scrubland and stilted above storm tides.
    “If no one is following, why are we here?” she asked.
    “Because we have to assume that whoever wants you has my Houston address by now. Ditto for Brownsville and my uncles’ homes. My cousins have kids. I don’t want them in the line of fire.”
    She opened her mouth, closed it. There was really nothing to say. He was right. She should have thought of it herself.
    “My uncles are working their contacts,” Hunter continued. “They hear something good, we’ll hear it.”
    “You’re obviously more used to this kind of thing than I am,” she said. “What do you do when you disappear for days or weeks at a time?”
    “I work for the family security company.”
    “Doing what?”
    “Securing whatever needs it,” he said.
    She didn’t give up. “What does that mean?”
    “Exactly what I said. My uncles’ company specializes in cross-border security issues for corporations and individuals.” Hunter’s glance flicked to the mirrors again. Still nothing that ruffled his instincts. It was late enough that traffic was light, which made checking for tails much easier.
    “Where were you the past two weeks?” she asked bluntly.
    “I missed you, too,” he said, smiling.
    “Hunter—” she began impatiently.
    “My most recent job was outside of Cozumel,” he said before she could rip a strip off him with her sharp tongue, “ransoming a rich debutante who thought that bad things only happened on TV, and that getting knee-walking drunk was safe in a Mexican dive.”
    “Was it dangerous for you?”
    “It had its moments. They decided to up the ransom and threw a bullet tantrum when I refused. I grabbed the young mistress of the universe and beat the bad guys to the airport.”
    “No wonder you weren’t shocked by what happened in the garage,” she said.
    “Don’t bet on it. A friend’s blood is always shocking. I’ve just had more experience on the adrenaline ride than most. It doesn’t hit me as hard on the up or the down.”
    She let out a long rush of air. “Remembering to breathe is the hardest part for me.”
    “Harder than holding a bloody rag against a wound?”
    “Philip wouldn’t let me go on a dig with him until I could handle weapons and had a basic understanding of field medicine,” she said neutrally.
    “How old were