Wicked Ever After (Wicked & Devoted 2)

He’d deal accordingly.

But he had to jet back to St. Louis now. Tessa wouldn’t forward that email until she came into the office at eight tomorrow morning. Which meant he’d likely see Montilla in twenty-four hours or less.

One-Mile intended to be ready.

After throwing all his belongings back into his duffel, he opened the door and prowled through the dusky shadows. Laila sat in front of the TV.

She glanced over at him, then down at the bag in his hand. “You’re leaving.”

He nodded. “Where’s your sister?”

“Napping with the baby.”

“I need you to listen to me. I’m going to St. Louis to track this motherfucker down.”

Laila nodded solemnly, but he saw her relief. “Thank you. Will you kill him?”

“I’d like to.” But the US government wanted Montilla. If he offed the drug lord on US soil for any reason other than self-defense, they’d crucify him and haul him off to jail. “At the very least, I’m going to get him off your back. Here’s my number. If he turns up here, get out and call me immediately. Do you have a gun?”

“I am not supposed to.”

Because she wasn’t in the country legally. He shook his head. “That isn’t what I asked. Do you have one?”

Finally, she nodded. “I keep it loaded. Because of the baby in the house, my sister is against it…”

“Keep it up high and keep the safety on. He hasn’t started walking yet, so he shouldn’t be able to find it and hurt himself. But never put it more than five feet from you. Never let the battery on your phone die. Watch everyone around you everywhere you go. Sleep with one eye open.”

“I already do.”

One-Mile wasn’t surprised. After all the abuse she’d endured at Montilla’s compound, she probably trusted no one.

His face softened. “You should start seeing a counselor.”

She recoiled. “I would rather forget.”

“You’re not going to without help. I’ve been doing this long enough to know that.” He didn’t press any more. He wasn’t here to harp on her. “If anything happens, especially if you see Montilla, call me. Day or night.”

Laila nodded. “Thank you. I am glad you are the one who came to move us. It made me feel safe.”

Because he’d had her naked and chosen not to touch her? Probably. He wished he could erase what those assholes had done to her.

“Take care.”

Then he was gone. Once they had unpacked the rental, he’d returned the van, so he took a taxi straight to the airport and finagled a seat on the next flight, which left in less than two hours. After a layover, he would arrive in St. Louis in the wee hours of the morning.

While waiting for his plane to board, One-Mile stared at his phone again. Maybe he could catch Brea at the end of her workday. But when he dialed, no answer. Again. This time he didn’t leave a message. He didn’t want anyone to know where he was going.

With a curse, he hung up, then boarded the aircraft and decided he’d best catch a few hours’ sleep.

Stopping the son of a bitch who’d nearly broken him—without his bosses figuring it out—wouldn’t be easy, but he was determined. Once that was done, he’d go back to Lafayette, find Brea, explain his past and reassure her, then make her his for good.

Thursday, October 30

St. Louis

One-Mile arrived at the safe house just before one a.m. He doubted Montilla had gotten a message yet from EM’s mole, but just in case, he perused the neighborhood. Quiet. Nothing out of the ordinary.

So he crept around the back of the house and let himself in with the key he’d pocketed the day they’d left.

He flipped on a few lights, figuring that if the place was being watched, it would look lived in.

A tornado would have had less impact on the interior. Valeria had only been able to pack for herself and her son what they could fit in a couple of suitcases. Laila hadn’t struggled as much since she’d come with nothing and had acquired very little in a month. But Valeria had passed most of her pregnancy and all of her son’s short life in this house. He knew leaving had been difficult.

Too bad this mission wasn’t about putting everyone out of their misery and ending Montilla. One-Mile didn’t bother lying to himself; he wanted revenge. And if the drug lord were no longer on this planet, his estranged wife could stop looking over her shoulder and fearing for her safety. Laila could finally breathe. Baby Jorge wouldn’t be at risk of growing up without a mother.

But the scumbag wasn’t worth losing his job or risking the wrath of his government. And Brea would be horrified if he intentionally added to his body count, rather than letting the wheels of justice do the job. So, he was going to be a good boy, even though he hated it.