Not that it was exactly my fault. The cop was aiming for me again and I jerked the GTO into the other lane as he shot again. The bullet missed, striking the rear window of the car next to us. Screams filled the air. The cop didn’t give a shit if everyone on the highway ended up dead.
“We have to get the fuck out of here,” I said as Gus reached into the glove compartment and pulled out his gun. “Oh please, let’s not add to the carnage.”
He cocked the gun dramatically. “Our lives are carnage now. Deal with it.”
There was truth to his words. We’d gone from two guys watching Arsenic and Old Lace in his living room, to torture-tattooing drug lords and igniting ex-best friends. Now we were on the run from the law, in Mexico, nearly taking everyone down with us.
All for a girl. But she wasn’t just any girl.
She was mine.
And I was hers.
Until the bitter end.
“Camden, watch it!” Gus yelled.
The cop was right beside us again. I only got a quick glimpse of him as I turned my head to see, cursing the side mirrors that were gone.
I saw the gun pointed at me.
That was it.
Then my window exploded, glass fragments flying everywhere, lacing the air like confetti. Immediately a searing hot pain erupted in my shoulder, like a molten knife had stabbed me there, twisting it through. I didn’t have time to worry about it though. I had to act fast. I grabbed the wheel and did what the psycho cop wasn’t expecting me to do. I rammed the GTO into his car, hit it at enough of an angle so we’d both spun out. Only I was still in control, with one good arm, and was able to get the car straightened out before Gus had to take control of the wheel and I handled the gearshift.
There were a few close calls, another semi changing lanes to get out of the way, a family-filled sedan staring at our car in horror as we nearly rammed them. But we managed to escape from crashing and navigated the moving maze by the skin of our teeth. I felt like I was in a deadly, real-life version of Frogger. My hands started to get cold and clammy, the gearshift slipping under my palm.
Once we were back at optimal speed, I took the wheel back and started booting up the shoulder, overtaking everyone and leaving them in a storm cloud of loose roadwork. It was then that I chose to look down at my arm. I saw nothing but blood, starting from the shoulder where it met my collarbone and soaking its way down, a red ink blot that started taking on new shapes before my eyes.
“Oh, fuck,” I said, grinding my teeth together as the pain began to manifest itself. “I’ve been shot.”
“Where?” Gus said alarmed and peering over at me.
“My shoulder,” I grunted, then screamed. “This fucking hurts!”
He seemed to consider that for a moment before he said, full-on smart ass, “Yes, being shot hurts.”
I glared at him, my glasses fogging up. “If I die on you, you’re going to feel really bad about it.”
“I’m sure I will,” he said. “Just keep driving. I think we’ve lost them for now. Get us to Ixtapa road, the next exit’s coming up on your right, then take the road until it intersects with 132. Take 132 …” And Gus droned on. I was having a hard time hearing him, my vision was beginning to blur and my ears felt like they had cotton balls in them. I guess I subconsciously took it all in because together, with him steering the wheel sometimes, we followed his directions and ended up at an abandoned gas station on the outskirts of a small town. The cops hadn’t followed us.
But I’d been shot. And before I could do anything about it, the world around me started getting fuzzy.
Then nothing.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
ELLIE
As to be expected, sleeping with Javier was awkward. After we returned from our mini-trip to Veracruz, case of beer in hand, we all had a few and then retired to our rooms. I could sense Raul’s eyes on me the whole time, but Javier didn’t act any different around him. I was glad for that because I didn’t want Raul to think I’d snitched – he wasn’t someone I wanted to further antagonize.
Javier shut the door behind me and flicked on the tall standing lamp in the corner, kitschy Mexican décor. “What side of the bed do you want?” he asked.
Then he proceeded to take off his suit. He flung the jacket onto an armchair across the room and began unbuttoning his shirt. I didn’t know where to look, my cheeks growing hot like I was a na?ve teenager. I’d seen him shirtless before. Hell, I’d seen and felt every single part of that man. Still, it didn’t make the feeling go away.
“Feeling bashful?” Now his tone was smug.
I looked up and his shirt was off. His body was pretty much the same as I remembered, but wider, in a more athletic and lean kind of way. He’d grown into it and taken great care of his body over the years. His abs and arms looked like he’d do chin-ups in his spare time, yet it was still very elegant and subtle. His skin was a dark bronze, shadowed by the lamp.
“No,” I answered.
“Good.” And then his pants dropped.
And I’d totally forgotten he liked to go commando.