Shooting Scars (The Artists Trilogy #2)

I eyed the bodyguards who flanked us on all sides. They never once looked my way. We had the whole bar to ourselves. Travis had gotten the owner to order everyone out. Not that there were that many people drinking in a jazz joint like that during the day, but still. He basically snapped his fingers and it happened. People did it as if their lives depended on – I guess they did. The amount of power he had was sickening, to the point where people must have thought he’d have them executed on the spot if they didn’t do what they were asked. And there would be nothing that anyone could do about it. No police, no government, no army, no justice. Travis Raines and his new cartel owned them all.

At the moment, while I sat there in the booth across from him, he owned me. It went against every sniveling thread of pride I’d ever felt to admit that, but that was the truth and the truth was what it was. He helped make me what I was, the con artist who never believed anyone was coming to save her, the girl who struggled to find the good deep inside. He had his hand in it. And now he had my life in his hands. Because if Travis Raines found out that Ellie Watt was sitting across from him, the damaged daughter of Amelie Watt, I would be dead in a second. Even if he didn’t figure it out, there was still a chance he could kill me for no reason. Just because he could.

“Would you like another drink?” he asked me. “Perhaps some water, you’re looking a bit flushed.”

I grimaced and put a hand to my forehead. Obviously the strain of the situation was showing up on my face more than I thought. I needed to play it off. “Water would be great, thank you. I think I got too much sun today. I’m a bit dizzy.”

He frowned subtly, just a darkening of the eyes. “That’s a shame. I was hoping to take you out for dinner tonight. I own one of the best restaurants in town.”

“You sure own a lot of things here.”

He clacked his teeth together a few times and I resisted the urge to grip the edge of the table. “I own all of Veracruz. You will soon find this out. You speak the name Travis Raines and you’ll see it in people’s faces. The respect. The awe. For me.”

Oh god, I wanted nothing more than to take my glass and figure out a million ways to break it on his head.

“Must be nice.”

“You don’t seem easily impressed.”

I shrugged because that’s what Eleanor Willis would have done.

“Maybe you’ll get a chance to impress me tomorrow then.”

I thought maybe I was pressing my luck, playing that hard-to-get kind of girl. Maybe he offed girls like that. But his eyes glinted hard with the challenge. The sick fuck liked it.

“Well, I shall rise to the occasion. Would you like a ride back to your hotel? Where are you staying?”

Now was the time to figure shit out. If I refused, would he follow me anyway? Would it better to be upfront so he can follow me and I can still see him do it?

“Yes, that would be great. I was going to take a cab, but if it would be no bother …”

“No bother at all,” he smiled, face like an eel.

We left the bar and walked to the street where a massive SUV pulled up, seemingly out of nowhere, and he ushered me inside the backseat. It was pretty similar to the one Javier had back in Ocean Springs, except the glass was exceptionally thick – bulletproof.

I was a mound of springy nerves the entire drive back to the hotel. I kept thinking how easy it would be for him to keep driving, take me away somewhere and shoot me. Rape me. Torture me.

To make matters worse, he picked up on this, shooting inquisitive glances over his shoulder as he sat in the passenger seat. “Are you alright?”

“Just the heatstroke. I should have mentioned I get car sick too,” I said, hoping that would explain my sweaty palms that I unintentionally kept wiping on my skirt.

He shook his head as if I was just a giant mess. And I was. I was the biggest fucking mess and I didn’t realize how big until after he dropped me off at the hotel and told me that he’d come by for me tomorrow at 6PM and to wear something stunning.

It was then, and only then, had I realized the gravity of the situation I was in. When I walked into the hotel and saw Enrico watching my every move, it made me realize how trapped I was, how alone. I had no one to hold my hand and tell me I was doing the right thing, that everything was going to be alright.

Camden.

I know I’d seen Camden, it hadn’t been a dream. It couldn’t have been. I saw him there in the market. He looked right at me. But the face I saw staring back at me wasn’t the one I imagined ever seeing again. It was the face of a broken man and guilt was starting to poke at me, telling me I was the one who broke him. This Camden who somehow found me in another country, only to turn and walk away.

I staggered past Enrico, telling him I’d had too much sun and wanted to nap for a little bit. I hoped that would be enough to keep him away for the time being. I had something I needed to do, something I’d started but never got to finish.

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