“They’ve got your girl,” the guy yells at me. I recognize him from the wharf. “Don’t kill me and I’ll tell you where she is.”
“He’s lying!”
A woman’s voice.
A voice I know all too well.
I freeze. Santo holds tight, but the rest of us spin to look at the source of the voice.
Her hair is shorter, and she’s dressed from top to bottom in sleek black leather, but I’d know those eyes and that defiant little chin anywhere.
Vivia.
“I’m right here,” she says in a voice as clear as day. “They don’t have me. And you don’t need him to tell you who they are. I’ll tell you everything. I don’t care what you do to me but hear me out.”
Santo pushes him to his knees. No need to interrogate him. I give him a nod to pull the trigger.
She sees me. Her jaw drops. I watch as her eyes soften, then she runs to me, just as Sergio cocks his gun.
* * *