“Yet you rise out of the storm, faultless and upright.” He gripped her chin, angled it until he won her eyes. “With every delivery, you release another captive. Then you return to your cell to begin the cycle again. The predators exist with or without you. You lure them out, and stop them from preying elsewhere.”

She peered up at him, lips parted, her body going soft in his arms.

He kissed her lips, treasured the salty tears there, and rested his forehead against hers. “Let the one who has never sinned throw the first stone. You were the first slave. The one who has never been freed.” He cupped her beautiful, tear-stained face, and traced the scar with his thumb. “Don’t give up. On me. On us.”

The hammer of her heart against his chest slowed with her breaths. She hugged him tighter, nodded. “Thank you for coming. For shooting that man.” She trailed a finger over his lips, watching the movement. “You saved me.” She glanced up. “You can mark that off your to-do list.”

She still needed saving, as did her family.

Camila strode toward them and held out Liv’s handgun. He snatched it before Liv could and set it inside the glove box, along with Mom’s PT-22.

Camila’s face creased with concern. “You won’t come home with us, will you?”

The others talked amongst themselves in the background.

“She sure as hell ain’t going to kill herself.”

“Fuck no. But she can’t go back to that house.”

“He’s right. We need her. Our lives, this whole operation, is fucking pointless if she’s dead.”

Liv untangled her body from his, wiped her cheeks, and shook her head. “I have to go back.”

Using the wet rag Camila held out for him, he wiped Liv’s face, neck, and arms, removing the remnants of blood. The others hovered around the sedan, grumbling, dismantling the cell phones, and pocketing the cash and other valuables that had belonged to the dead men.

Questions piled up in his aching head about the dangers of this operation. “What do you do with bodies and evidence?” He tossed the rag back to Camila.

“I’ll explain on the way back.” Liv grabbed a t-shirt from the passenger seat and pulled it on. “We need to go.”

“What do we do with the Honda?” He handed her a pair of jeans.

“Where is it?”

“About a quarter-mile back.” He pointed down the road. “Keys are in the ignition.”

“It’s yours,” Liv said to Camila as she dressed. “I was supposed to get rid of it anyway.”

With the bodies stuffed in the sedan and the road cleared of blood, they said their good-byes. The guys hugged Liv a bit longer than he thought was needed, but there was no talk of future contact. Everyone knew the stakes, and no one had a solution.

Kate lifted a hand to him and gave a small smile. Her demeanor seemed to already be transforming, her chin lifting higher, her shoulders relaxing. She would be fine. Probably better than fine with that fierce pack of protectors.

“I’m driving.” Liv climbed in the van, her gaze lingering on her friends.

Some of them slid into the buyer’s sedan. The others faded into the woods. Her expression was wistful as she watched them leave, her fingers curling around the wheel.

“You’ll see them again.” He would make sure of it. “Under better circumstances.” He hoped.

As he moved her extra clothes from the passenger seat to the floor, his hand brushed a folded piece of paper. He held onto it.

The van crunched along the gravel road, the same path he’d taken by foot in his race to catch up with her. At the time, he’d had Mom’s pistol out and ready with no intention of using it. But when he saw that gun aim at Liv, it was a terrible ache, a flashing of his own life, a loss of breath. There was no falter in pulling his trigger. No guilt. She was alive.

He put on his seat belt and unfolded the paper in his hand.

“Don’t read that.” She stared straight ahead, navigating the winding road, her expression lost in the darkness.

When he flicked on the ceiling lamp, she tried to grab the paper from his hand. He caught her wrist, pinned it to her thigh, and held up a letter that was addressed to Van.

Chapter 36

Van,

The reasons that chained me here were my reasons to go.

I’ve never asked you for anything. I’m asking now.

Keep them safe.

Liv

Every mournful word stabbed Josh in the gut. As he read to himself, Liv stared straight ahead, her jaw locked in unapologetic stubbornness. He folded up the note, turned off the light, and spoke as calmly as he could. “You were going to do this at the house?”

“Where he’d find me.” Liv’s whisper was cautious.

He let that sink in. Would he have done the same to save his parents, damning himself to hell?

Maybe. He didn’t know, couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

His throat burned as he freed the heartache piling up there. “I would’ve missed your smile, how it lifts your eyes and rounds your cheeks. And your voice. God, Liv, your voice is so mystical and arousing. I’ve never experienced anything like it.” He pinched the note between his fingers, loathing its purpose, feeling its strength. “I would’ve missed your kiss, that incomparable connection when your lips brush mine. But most of all, I would’ve missed our future together, the one you would’ve taken from us.” He turned in the seat to face her. “You said you freed me, but freedom isn’t defined by chains or walls. You, alive, with me. That’s my freedom.”

Her profile nodded in jerky movements, and her hand reached out for his.

He caught it and entwined their fingers. “I need a promise, Liv. A promise to survive.”

She glanced at him, swiped at her cheek, and steered onto the main road. “Wish I could say that if I went back to the day I first saw you, that I would’ve looked the other way.” Her hand tightened in his. “I can’t. I found my redeemer, and I know where you’ll still be in the end. I won’t give up. I promise.”

Damn, those words felt good. He traced her knuckles with his thumb and settled into a comfortable silence until a hundred and ten questions penetrated his solace. “How did it start with Camila?”

“She has associations with a cartel. Not family relations. It’s some kind of business connection. I don’t know the details. She was doing side jobs for them before Van took her. When I killed her buyer, she drove away with his body, saying she knew people.” She let go of his hand and raked her hair from her face. “I was so damned scared, unsure if I could trust her. She went back to work for her connections, and now they help her dispose of the bodies, cars, weapons. I don’t know. I only talk to her on delivery days, and our interactions are as brief as you saw tonight.”

His heart raced, his mind spinning. “Has she looked for your mom and daughter?” With her connections, she should’ve been able to trace Liv’s mom at the very least.

“She’s tried. I don’t know my daughter’s real name and there are no Jill Reeds that match Mom’s description.”

He drummed his fingers on his knee, gathering his thoughts. “Did you plan to kill Camila’s buyer?”

She nodded. “Camila didn’t know. I think she thought I was going to kill her, too.”

No doubt. Liv was the fiercest woman he’d ever met. “How does Mr. E not know about this? With every buyer disappearing after his purchase, someone would notice.”

She stretched her legs and reclined behind the wheel, eyes flicking to the side mirror. “The buyers are supposed to disappear. They crawl out of whatever hole they come from, make the transaction, and return to their holes. Which happen to be in shady places south of the border. They’re all from Mexico.”

That part made sense. Traquero had the accent. He shuddered, knowing the fat freak was walking the streets then going home to torture his wife. “What about the referral system? They’re all connected.”