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TANGO

“What can I do to cheer you up, Carolina?” I ask her, noticing a slight slur in my words. I’ve made a mental note that the whiskey
burn numbs the other burn in my lungs.

“Cheer me up?” she retorts. I can’t tell if it’s anger or hurt behind her sparkling blue eyes. She lifts her drink and puckers her lips
gently
around the straw, holding it there briefly before pulling it back out. “I honestly don’t know if anything can cheer me up.” I’m pretty sure her words just damaged me. No one deserves the shit she’s gone through, although I supposed I could say the same thing about
myself.

The bartender places the two glasses of water I ordered down in
front of us and lets his eyes linger over Carolina for one second too long. I’m pretty sure he just fell in love with her. It’s easy to do. I slap my credit card down on the counter, pulling his attention away from her. “We’re good, man.” I raise my eyebrow slightly, giving the guy
the hint
to keep on moving and to shift his focus to something else besides her. Although I guess, I shouldn’t really be doing that. She isn’t mine, and she probably never will be. But fuck, I think I might do
anything to experience her—any part of her. I have the urge to touch her lips, to taste her tongue, and to breathe her breath.

I don’t know, what am I even thinking right now?

I’m so desperate to reel in any type of reaction from her that I’d
probably settle on making her smile. Maybe that would cure me.

CALI

We paid the bill an hour ago, but we’ve been sitting here making small talk about nothing more than the weather. He seems disturbed or upset, and I can’t quite put my finger on it. I settle my arms over
the bar and lean forward to stretch my back. I’m ready to get going, but I don’t want to rush him since I know he’s trying to sober up before we get back in the truck. “You know,” he says out of nowhere. “What you’ve been put through is nothing but crap. You deserve to live a normal life.” He shifts his weight and stands up from his stool, slipping his arms into his jacket and readjusting it over his shoulders.

Suddenly, I’m not ready to go. He seems to have gotten so much information out of me, and I’ve gotten nothing from him. “Before we
go, tell me something about your past.” I realize my hand is curled around his arm, but I let go as soon as my brain catches up to the present. “You know everything about me, and I’m being followed around by a complete stranger. If you already know how miserable I
am, don’t go
making things worse for me. At least let me know you.” My words sound pleading, and they didn’t come out how I intended. I shouldn’t have had this much to drink. I just screwed myself.

He sits back down on his stool and brings his feet up to the metal post below the bar. He clasps his hands together and taps his right thumb over the top of his left hand. With concentration, he
looks me right in the eyes. It’s as if whatever information is floating around in
his head is painful enough that it might be easier to keep it to himself. “I was a Marine for five-and-a-half years. I was in Iraq for
two years and Afghanistan for two years. I ah . . . I was discharged and came home
to Eli’s job offer.” He slaps his hand down over the bar and looks
over
at me with half-lidded eyes. “And now here I am with you.” He
stands back up and zips his jacket. “Ready?”

While in the process of trying to find the words to respond with,
my phone vibrates, and I’m thankful for the distraction. I slip my
phone out of my pocket and the caller ID displays a text from a number I don’t recognize, which happens often since Dad is always changing his number.

What’s your location?

-Dad

Before I can respond, Tango snatches the phone out of my hand
and flips his phone out of his pocket. Within seconds, he’s typing something on his phone. “I need to track the nearest satellites.” I’m
trying to figure out what he’s doing or what he means, but I quickly understand when he continues talking. “I have to write this down. I have his GPS coordinates.”

“What are you talking about? What do you need GPS
coordinates for?” I know I sound frantic. What if he is only after Dad like all of these other nuts? I have no proof other than a fucking license telling me this guy’s name is Tango.

“Carolina, that’s not your dad.” His words make me feel like I got sucker punched. “Do you think your dad would be sending you a message with a traceable phone number? Because this number is definitely traceable.”

“You’re a liar and an asshole,” I shout. “You’ve been fucking using me just like everyone else. You think if you’re in my head, you could get through me to my dad? You think that’s what you can do?” The tears have to stop. I feel them stabbing the back of my eyes,
so I take the
glass in front of me and throw it across the bar, watching it shatter against a pillar ten feet in front of me. Everyone around me stops what they’re doing and looks over. A couple men stand up in front
of their dates or girlfriends in a protective manner, probably thinking I’m
about to go all sorts of crazy. Which, I might. He’s been trying to find
Dad. That’s all this has been about. He lied.

Tango’s hand clamps tightly around my arm, and he pulls me out of my seat. I’m fighting him with all of my drunken strength, but
it’s useless against his overwhelming power. Before I know it, I’m outside and pinned up against the wall. His hands are pressing
firmly on my shoulders and his head is arched down so his eyes are inches from mine. “If you’re going to kill me. Just do it fast. Just do it now,” I say, trying my hardest to hold back the incoming sobs.

“Listen to me.” He loosens his grasp. “You need to get a grip. I swear to you that was not your dad. Your dad doesn’t have a phone right now. If he does, it’s not traceable. I know where he is, or his whereabouts, at least. He has no way to contact you. I know you
don’t
trust me, nor do you want to try. But I kind of need you to, for your own safety.” He removes his hands from me but doesn’t shift his position. “Hate me, slap the shit out of me—I don’t care. But I am going to keep you safe. And it’s not because I work for your dad. It’s because I don’t want an innocent woman who’s already seen as
much shit as you’ve had to, see any fucking more.” I thrust my fists into his solid shoulders and shove him out of the way. “Where are you going?” he shouts after me.

When I reach this point, there is only one way out. I turn my head in each direction, looking for my vice until I hear cars racing
by. I pick up my pace before he can stop me. I need the adrenaline to lower the rage. I
need
it. I step out into the busy intersection and watch as a car
comes speeding toward me. I’m wearing black and it’s night. They won’t see me until it’s too late. I suck in my breath and wait to feel the wind on my face. Sometimes I take a second to consider my options. Should I just end it, or should I wait? I clench my eyes as the
wind grows. The horn screams as an arm is wrapped around my stomach and I’m thrown into the sidewalk.

Tango is hovering over me, his veins pulsating over his forehead
and anger darkening his eyes. “I’ve had it with you tonight.” He lifts me up without allowing me time to catch my breath, to suck in the adrenaline or to smile from the rush. He throws me over his shoulder and darts back across the street. I kick my legs and punch
his back, but he’s unaffected as usual. He is the force I can’t reckon with and it’s pissing me off.

I’m sick of being treated like an object—like a secured jewel. I want to be free. I should flee this goddamn country and go join Dad, wherever he is. It would be so much easier.

After being manhandled and forced back into the apartment, I’m
left huddled in the corner of my bedroom like a deflated balloon. I pull my knees up to my chest and bury my face into my arms. I
wasn’t
going to let the car hit me. I like the rush. It makes me forget. It
reminds me
I’m
in control of whether or not I live or die.

I hear the front door open and close so I pull myself up and off the ground and stumble out of my room and toward the front door. I
press my ear against the wood and hear the ruffling of his feet against the stiff Berber carpeting in the hall, so I rush back to lock myself in my bedroom. I’m not hiding from him. I’m distancing
myself.

A heavy fist pounds against my bedroom door. “Carolina!” he says. I don’t respond. I don’t move from my desk chair, looking out into the dark trees that are now judging me, rather than dancing. “Carolina!” His voice grows a little louder this time, and it’s followed by another knock. “Look. We have to go.
Now
.” The words normally cause me to spring into action when I hear them from Dad.
It means there’s a threat
somewhere. However, I’m not sure I want to take orders from Tango—not without trusting his true intentions. And God knows, that won’t happen. Trust, the word is a joke. “Fine. I’m calling for a
replacement. I’m not here to babysit, like I told you.”

Fuck. I don’t want him to go. I don’t want a replacement. Who knows who I’d end up with this time. I’m so alone right now. “Cali, let me in.” His voice turns a little kinder, which pulls me toward the
door.

I pull my door open slowly, and I’m sure he probably sees the redness in my eyes. “You called me, Cali,” I croak out.

“Carolina is a mouthful,” he chuckles. “We really have to go. We have to lead him off track.”

Him
.

Him, who?

Stomach acid builds up and a wave of nausea washes over me. “Who is he?” I run my fingers through my hair, fisting a section into a knot. “Please, tell me, Tango.”

“This guy named Rea—“

“Never mind.”
Don’t say his name. I can’t hear it again.
“I’m not running,” I say under my breath. “I—“

“You know him?” he asks, dumbfounded.

“Yes,” I answer simply, knowing what truth lies behind the word.

“Cali, this asshole has been the number one guy after your dad. Did you know he was your dad’s fucking assistant when he was in China? He knows what your dad did and what he has.” My stomach drops and I feel like oxygen has been sucked out of my lungs. Dad didn’t actually know Reaper and I were dating. This all makes sense
now. Dad was gone long before I met him. I was Reaper’s bait right
from the start. This makes me want to kill him even more now. “Seriously, Cali. You aren’t thinking straight. You’ve had too much to drink. We have to go.”

He’s wrong. I am thinking more clearly than I ever have. For
the past year, Reaper thought he was the one chasing me. He thinks he’s the reason I keep running. The truth is, I’m just waiting for the
right
time and the right angle. I’m waiting for my opportunity. I know
what I have to do . . . and I don’t care what happens after I do it.

“I want him dead,” I say softly. Tango leans his head against the door and releases a long sigh. “He killed my sister.”

“I understand.” He closes in on the couple feet of space between
us and places his hand over the bare skin of my shoulder. “I’m not saying you aren’t capable of killing him. I believe you are, but in the slight chance he outsmarts you, he’ll kill you too.” He squeezes my good shoulder gently and looks me in the eyes. “Are you sure he was
the one who killed her? He isn’t the only one after your dad, you know?”

I meet his gaze and wait for the pain to pour out of my soul
before I start talking. “I watched him slice my sister’s throat with a knife.” I watched her blood trickle out until her body was empty. I watched her eyes beg for help while I sat there crying over her. I watched her chest move for the last time. I felt as the warmth in her skin turned to ice. “He was also my boyfriend. I loved him. I trusted him. And I shouldn’t have. Look where it landed me—my sister. I need to have this opportunity, Tango.”

“You were with him?” He looks sickened by his own question. “You’ve known he was the murderer all this time?” He straightens his posture and takes a step away from me. “You were a witness?”
His voice continues to rise in volume, angry with me for a situation that didn’t even involve him. He sucks in a deep breath and tries to calm down. “Why didn’t you turn him in when it happened?”

“They still wouldn’t have found him.” I look at him with
intensity. “And like I said, I want to be the one who kills him.”

“Okay. Well, then—thank you for your honesty. Now can we leave here, please?” He thinks I’m joking. Or he thinks I’m not thinking this through. Maybe he doesn’t realize this is the only thing
I’m always thinking about. I want to see the look on Reaper’s face when I put a knife through
his
throat. I want to hear him say sorry for murdering my sister. For making her suffer. For making her pay a consequence for Dad’s actions. And for lying to me, using me and making me fall in love with him just so he could find Dad.

“No, Tango. I want to stay here and let him think he can find me. Let him think I had a moment of weakness and stopped tracking him. Let him think he can kill me.”

Sympathy grows within Tango’s eyes. At least that’s what I think the look is. Maybe he’s thinking I’m nuts. And now comes the part where he disagrees with me, tells me I’m insane, and forcefully
pulls
me out of the apartment. He reaches down for my hand and pulls me toward him. His arms loop around my back and he pulls me in against him, holding me. With my head up against his chest, I can hear a struggle in his lungs—a whine with every breath he takes. It’s a strange noise, but the feeling of warmth sways my attention to the feeling of security within his arms. It shoots a long forgotten feeling into my
gut, and I have the urge to look up at him, but I can’t.