Her eyes filled with tears. “Be careful.”
He crushed his mouth to hers. It was a desperate kiss, brief and fierce and full of emotion. When he broke the contact, she touched her lips as if they were on fire. Tears spilled down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb, wishing he didn’t have to leave her. But he knew she wanted him to go. Her brother’s life was in danger.
He scrambled down the hill, drawing his weapon. He had to circle around the canyon and climb up the opposite side without being spotted.
Luckily, the guard didn’t glance in Ian’s direction. His gaze stayed north, for the most part. He glanced down into the canyon a few times, and across the hills. There was a strong wind blowing toward the west, which helped mask the sound of Ian’s approach. Pebbles crunched under his boots as he got closer. The guard heard the last step, but it was too late. Ian pressed the barrel of his Sig against the nape of his neck.
“No te muevas.”
He didn’t move.
Ian told him to put down his rifle, which he did. The man in the cowboy hat caught this movement. He stared up at them from the canyon below. Sarai was sitting next to Hugo with her hands tied behind her back. Hugo had a bloody lip, in addition to a bloody arm.
“Déjenlos ir,” Ian called out.
Let them go.
The two young men started waving their guns around, threatening to shoot him.
“I can’t give you the girl,” the cowboy said in a calm voice. “I’ll release the boy if you come down here with my friend.”
That was a bad deal. If Ian went into the canyon, he’d have to surrender his weapon or engage in a close-range shootout with four men. If he stayed on the hillside, he could fire from a safer distance, but the odds were still stacked against him.
“Make your move, gringo chulo,” the cowboy said.
“Let the boy go first,” Ian said.
The cowboy snapped his fingers. The young man with the rifle yanked Hugo to his feet and gave him a hard shove. Hugo clearly didn’t want to leave Sarai, but he had no choice. He walked out of the canyon, holding his injured arm.
Ian stepped forward to guide the guard down the slope. The second young man had his Smith & Wesson trained on Ian. As soon as they reached the dry creek bed, the cowboy ordered Ian to drop his weapon and get down. Ian removed the barrel from the guard’s neck and set it on the ground. Then he lowered himself to his stomach. The guard wrenched his arms behind his back. Ian gritted his teeth as his wrists were bound with coarse rope.
The kid with the handgun crouched next to him. He was wearing a backward baseball cap, and brimming with aggression. He shoved the barrel of his gun against Ian’s neck, just to fuck with him. “How do you like it, puto?”
The cowboy told the kid to cut it out. He sounded like a father admonishing his child.
Before the kid rose to his feet, he hit Ian across the temple, splitting his eyebrow. Blood trickled into his eye, hot and bright. He blinked it away and turned his head to the side. Sarai stared at him in quiet defiance. She looked nothing like Armando, just as Maria had said. And yet, there was a similarity between them. She had his stillness.
Ian wondered if he’d made the wrong decision in coming down here. He’d saved Hugo, but at what cost? It would be no triumph to die with Sarai. He moved his gaze past Sarai, toward the hill where he’d left Maria. He hoped she wouldn’t do anything stupid, like join the fray.
“Who is this gringo?” the cowboy asked.
Sarai ignored the question. She probably didn’t know who Ian was. The young man with the rifle gave her a rude nudge. He wasn’t any older than she was. He had light brown hair and the lanky build of a teenager. She showed no reaction to his abuse.
“I’ll make her talk,” the other kid said, cupping his crotch.
The cowboy in charge told him to shut the fuck up and ordered the guard to search Ian for identification. He patted Ian down but didn’t find anything. Ian’s badge was inside his empty shoulder holster, trapped underneath his arm.
“Get back to your station,” the cowboy growled, seeming irritated.
The guard started up the slope. Halfway there, he hesitated. Ian scanned the hillside and noticed that the guard’s rifle was gone. Someone must have taken it, but who?
Ian’s stomach dropped as he glanced at Sarai.
“Mariposa,” she whispered, for his ears only.
—
Maria had planned to follow Ian’s orders.
She held the binoculars in a death grip while she watched him trade his life for Hugo’s. He walked down the hill and surrendered his weapon. Hugo got up and stumbled away from the scene, cradling his right arm. Maria was torn between going to help her brother and staying on the hill to watch Ian. His wrists were wrenched behind his back. She gasped in shock as the boy in a baseball cap hit him over the head.
?Dios mío! She had to do something. They were going to kill him.
The rifle was sitting on the opposite hillside, barrel glinting in the afternoon sun. She didn’t know how to use it, but maybe she could cause a diversion. Scrambling down the hill, she hurried toward the edge of the canyon. When she reached it, she didn’t see her brother.
Her stomach dropped as she realized that he’d gone to fetch the rifle.
He was as crazy as she was!
She continued past the canyon and crept around the back of the hill. Hugo was there. He didn’t have the rifle yet, but he was heading toward it. His eyes lit up when he saw her. She ran forward and hugged him tight, overwhelmed with emotion. He made a sound of pain, so she let go and studied his arm. It looked broken. Blood streaked down his hand and dripped from his fingertips.
“Did they shoot you?”
“I’m okay,” he said, spitting in the dirt. He had a bloody lip too.
She urged him to sit down. He was pale and shaky, despite his assertion that he was okay. She was afraid he might pass out. She glanced at the rifle on the hilltop, conflicted. Should she try to help Ian and Sarai? Or save herself and her brother?
“Get the rifle,” Hugo said, following her gaze.