Shooting Scars (The Artists Trilogy #2)

I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t do this.

I turned around and walked away. I could hear her calling me, her voice thin above the chatter of the marketplace, but I kept walking. I’d come so far to find her and now I was running from the person I’d been looking for.

I pushed through the crowd, going as fast as I could without fucking up my arm, trying to keep my damaged heart still in my chest, trying to breathe through that inner pain when I suddenly spotted a familiar beer gut in a Hawaiian shirt, speaking in Spanish to a pretty Mexican lady in front of a stand of socks and underwear.

“She’s here,” I said to Gus as I stopped in front of them.

Gus gave me a disappointed look. “Camden, this is Esmerelda.”

I gave her a curt nod. Now wasn’t the time for pleasantries. I looked back to Gus. “What do we do?”

“Okay, well then let’s go talk to her, this place is as good as any.”

“Can you do it?” I asked him, feeling ashamed the moment I did so. I went on, “You’re not as emotionally involved.”

“Says you.”

“I should keep my eyes open to see if Javier or Travis pops up.”

Gus raised his eyebrow. “Javier wouldn’t dare show his face here. Now how about you man the fuck up, put your big girl panties on and go get your fucking ex-girlfriend back?”

I felt like I’d been slapped in the face. It went red immediately and I hoped Esmerelda didn’t understand a lick of English. But it worked. I shoved my pride aside for a moment and decided to do what we came here to do, what we fought so hard for.

I only hoped it was all for a reason.

Gus shook Esmerelda’s hand goodbye and I led him back the way I came, hoping Ellie was still about somewhere.

“Oh shit,” Gus said under his breath. He’d stopped on the spot, causing a woman with a bag of fruit to collide into his back and let loose a string of Spanish obscenities. I followed his eyes. Beyond the crowd of people, where this aisle intersected with another, was a wall of men in black. Bodyguards protecting someone.

I knew who it was, even before Gus muttered, “Travis. We have to get out of here.”

“Why, we’re just tourists?” I whispered back, ignoring the frustrated shoppers trying to go around us.

“What was that quote I said about casting doubt …?”

“Something about shadows,” I filled in. “It wasn’t very good.”

He turned around, pulling on my good arm. “Come on, let’s go down the next aisle and look over that way, see what’s happening.”

We went around and all the pain and heartache I was feeling was being replaced by a more familiar feeling: dread. With Travis in the picture, an actual living breathing real life threat, someone more dangerous than Javier could ever be, the reality began to settle in. I started to feel like a real fucking chump, turning away from Ellie in the market like that. We stopped beside a shopkeeper selling poorly made pottery. No one was stopping there and we were able to get a clear view into the next aisle over.

There was Travis. Not at all like I expected. He was tall, reed-thin with a shock of slicked back grey hair. He was much older than I thought, well, at least in his sixties like I assumed Gus was. However, Gus put out this air of being crotchety but harmless and people probably underestimated him. There was no underestimating Travis. He oozed power, like it sustained him more than oxygen. Everyone, from the stoic bodyguards to the scared people walking past, giving him quick but furtive glances, were aware of this power, this energy this … evil. That was dramatic but true.

Then there was Ellie Watt, or Eleanor Willis as she now was. Standing in front of him, trying to look like any other girl. Of course I could see that she was more than any other girl. She was a heartbreaker. She was a temptress. She was lost. And now she was found, at least by me. I hoped Travis didn’t pick up on any of those things. I hoped he saw her as a beautiful, average American tourist. I hoped she knew exactly what she was doing and that the confidence she was portraying was more than an act.

We watched them like a pair of creepers until Travis stuck his arm out for her and she accepted it, having him lead her away, the wall of bodyguards flanking her.

“The fuck. Where are they going?’ I said. “What is she doing?”

The shopkeeper with the shitty pottery picked this time to get annoyed with us and shooed us away once he realized we weren’t going to buy anything. I began to go after Ellie but Gus reached out and grabbed me by the shirt.

“No,” he said. “We don’t follow him. We can’t get away with that, not here.”

I swallowed painfully. “How can we just let her go off with him?”

“We can. We have to. We don’t know what her plan is. At any rate, we don’t have the option. To follow her is to put her in danger and that’s the last thing either of us wants, you got that? Look, we’ll go back to your hotel room. I’ve got all the stuff now. Unpack and wait.”

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