The shelter manager nodded their way, casting Laila a regretful glance before disappearing inside, the snick of the lock loud in the otherwise empty alley.
Now they were alone. Trees saw the exact moment Laila realized that, too. Her breaths turned rough. Every line of her body went taut. She scanned the alley nervously. Resolution crossed her face.
Fuck, she was going to run again.
Laila slid the diaper bag she’d forgotten to give her sister off her shoulder and tossed it in his face.
Trees batted it away and cinched his hands around her waist. She was so damn small his fingertips nearly touched. Her ribs poked his palms. Unfortunately, he was also fucking aware of her pert tits spilling above the neckline of her soft khaki tank.
“Do not touch me,” she hissed.
“Don’t run.” Trees lifted her off her feet.
Laila snarled, resisting him with more pounding fists and flailing feet. He understood. Even if her sister had been the boss’s wife, life with a cartel had likely been brutal. She was in fight-or-flight mode. She didn’t know him at all, and she had no reason to trust him. It would take time for her to learn that he would do anything to keep her safe.
His first order of business was to make sure she learned.
Trees banded his arms around her and carried her, kicking and writhing, to the nearby RV, bag in tow. She fought until he backed her against the side of the vehicle, pinning her in place with his body, and tangled his fingers around a fistful of her hair. With a growl, he forced her to look at him. “I know you don’t trust me. But the way I see this, your choices are me or Victor. I’m the lesser of the two evils.”
“I can survive on my own.”
Maybe, but her sister wasn’t willing to take that chance. Neither should she.
As he held tight, the smell of fear poured off of her. What the hell? Was she actually as afraid of him as she was of Ramos? “I’ve been paid to get you to safety and I’m going to do my job. Nothing will happen to you. Get in.”
Thanks to his long wingspan, he could hold her immobile against the RV and still open the door. When he urged her toward the opening, she scratched and fought again, kicking and jabbing him while gripping the doorframe.
At the far end of the alley, a dark sedan breezed by…then backed up, paused, and turned down the winding lane, headlights blinding them. Sure, the driver might be lost. But he might also be hunting Laila and her family.
“Get the fuck inside.” He shoved her through the door, then followed, locking it behind him as he tossed the diaper bag aside. “Stay down.”
With one hand, he withdrew his SIG from his shoulder holster. With the other, he pushed her to the floor. He crouched beside her as a sleek black Mercedes pulled alongside them so slowly it set his teeth on edge. The tinted windows of the car made it impossible to see inside.
Whoever it was, they were looking for something. Or someone.
Beside him, Laila trembled. Horrible things had happened to her, and he’d dig into that later. All he could do now was assure her she was perfectly safe with him and try to earn her trust.
“Can you tell if that’s him?” he asked.
She lifted huge, dilated eyes toward the windshield. “I-I am not sure.”
But the terror in her expression said there was a good chance.
They were pinned in this fucking alley. He needed to maneuver the RV out of here and get on the road, but he didn’t dare leave Laila to her own devices. He wouldn’t put it past her to hurl herself out of a moving vehicle to get away from whoever was in that sedan—and him.
The black car crawled past the RV. He half expected the vehicle to stop, block them in, and come out with guns blazing. But finally, they cruised to the far end of the alley, then turned out of sight.
If that was Victor and his cohort, he and Laila had caught a break. Time to get the fuck out of Dodge.
“Stay here,” he commanded, stepping around her to grab his duffel from the seat of the small eat-in table.
As he unzipped the bag, a crash on his right had him lurching around—just in time to see Laila shove frantically against the RV’s door.
“Son of a bitch!” As he leapt for her, she twisted and tugged at the knob with shaking fingers, screeching at him with saucer-wide eyes. He enveloped her against his chest and growled in her ear. “Are you crazy?”
“To want freedom? Put me down!”
“Someone is out there, hunting you. You get that, right?” Frustration crept into his voice. He’d slept maybe a handful of hours in the last few days. And just for shits and giggles, his stomach had decided to growl, too.