Blood Diamond by Lana Sky

Author:Lana Sky
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Lana Sky

CHAPTER TEN

I don’t know how in the hell I managed to sleep, but I needed it. My head feels clearer, and I almost forget that I was mauled by an exotic animal last night at the whim of a homicidal psychopath.

Almost.

When I attempt to stand, my back burns like hell, and I curl into a ball, afraid to move for God knows how long. When I finally do drag myself upright, it’s early morning with snatches of sunlight licking at the windows. Good. I have an entire day of planning ahead of me. Just how quickly can I get my ass to California?

I will do whatever it takes to find out.

Pedro is a saint. I check my phone to find that he got me a last-minute flight to California that leaves in the afternoon. It’s not as soon as I would like, but it’s today, at least. A start. I don’t have anything to pack, and my fake documents are in my purse. I limp toward it to refresh my memory of the false identity, only to trip over a folder of stray documents, scattering them over the floor.

Getting to Francisco should dominate my thoughts, and it does… Lurking beside him, where he doesn’t belong, however, is a man who haunts me still. I could leave for California, but he’ll follow, always in my head. Unlike Diego, he didn’t earn his place there. My fascination with the bastard itches, uncomfortable and unwelcome.

The only way to drive him out is to end this “bargain” on my terms. As luck would have it, there is just enough time to do so if I hurry.

Maybe it’s a testament to how stupid I know this plan is deep down, but I don’t call Pedro for advice. He’d just talk me out of this insanity—but it’s been a long time since I’ve embodied crazy Pita. Without an ounce of uncertainty, I grab one of my new dresses from the floor and find a pair of scissors in the kitchen. My final outfit isn’t one my friend would approve of, but, wearing it, I don’t feel like a narco’s arm candy.

I feel like me. Lupita back from the dead with one last act of vengeance to carry out—confront a new monster before he can overtake the scars left by the old one.

Minutes later, I call a car service and head to an address I’ve learned by heart. When I arrive, it isn’t the welcoming paradise brimming with sexy young women that I’ve been presented with. It’s a fortress, guarded by armed men who patrol the front yard and eye me skeptically. The front gates don’t magically part for me, either. I must exit the car and address a stern-faced man who demands my purpose.

“To see Jaguar,” I say.

He steps away and barks into a cell phone while inspecting my appearance. From the neck up, I look the part of dumb, pretty arm candy. My outfit, however, tarnishes that image—I’m wearing a beautiful mini-dress with the back crudely cut out to reveal jagged, open wounds for anyone to see.

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