When Fates Align

by Isabelle Richards

  I burst out laughing. “Jesus, talk about shit coming full circle.”

  “You know this place?” Gavin asks.

  “Yeah. It’s the bar I worked at in college. I always said Rafa would be that creepy guy hitting on college girls when he’s thirty, and low and behold, I was right. What a perv.” I kiss Gavin’s cheek. “This is actually perfect. It’s a patio bar. There’ll be tons of people on the street, especially because, according to the email reminder I got this morning from the alumni association, there’s a basketball game today—the Cats play UCLA. It’s a huge game, and campus will be a zoo. He won’t touch me with that big of a crowd. Plus, something tells me if you kill someone in the bar, they ban you for life. He won’t cut off his supply to dumb sorority tail.”

  Isla crosses her legs. “If it’s crowded, she’ll be able to slip in and slip out easily. The team of agents we assign to watch her will be able to blend in and keep an eye on her.”

  Gavin shakes his head. “There has to be another way.” He holds my face. “This is the man who tried to sell you! How can you put yourself back into his clutches?”

  I look deeply into his eyes. “So that I can finally be free of him. I need to do this. Please understand that.” I’m not asking for his permission; I’m asking for his understanding. I hope he can tell the difference.

  He closes his eyes. “I want eyes on her from every angle.”

  “Done,” Nigel says. “That also means she has to be the front person at the exchange.”

  Gavin slams his hand on the table. “Are you out of your bloody mind?”

  “We have Kevlar,” Isla said. “And there’ll be agents in every nook and cranny of the place. Nothing will happen to her.”

  “That’s not the point!” Gavin yells. “Peter was supposed to handle everything at the exchange! That’s one of the only reasons I agreed to this ridiculous plan! Between all of the teams, you have twenty people with military experience. Any one of them would be a more logical choice. Lily cannot be on point!”

  “If it’s anyone else, he’ll sense a setup,” Isla replies.

  “Haven’t you been reporting that his blow habit is out of control and he’s unstable? I know you couldn’t care less about Lily’s safety, but do you really think using someone with no tactical experience is what’s best for the mission?”

  “Yes, but—” Isla says.

  “But nothing,” Gavin snaps. “We’re putting his head in the guillotine here. We’d like to believe that means he’ll cooperate, but if he’s coked out of his mind, you can’t predict how he’ll react.”

  “We’ve prepared for that. She’ll be safe.” Nigel looks at me. “Do you feel comfortable with this plan?”

  I put my hand on Gavin’s arm. “Rafa’s going to be so worried about what’ll happen if he lets D’ante down that I doubt he’ll pay any attention to me. I think he’ll hand over Arrow, take his trucks, and high tail it out of there. The way we have it timed is perfect. He can’t mess around and still make it to the meet on time.” I turn Gavin’s face so that he has to look me in the eye. “I’m going to be fine.”

  “If he even pulls a gun, the agents will shoot to kill. She was more at risk flying in this tin can than she will be there,” Isla says, patting the wall of the plane.

  “No one plans to lose someone when they go into a mission, but we both know that there’s acceptable collateral damage factored into every plan,” Gavin growls. “How many times have you lost the lamb you’ve put out as bait? Huh? How many, Isla? Nigel? What’s your body count up to?”

  “Yes, casualties happen on assignments. It’s unavoidable, but in this case, our plan is exceptionally solid,” Nigel promises. “I’d feel comfortable sending my own sister into this mission.”

  “Gavin, you told me we could trust Nigel,” I say. “You said if there was anyone who could help me get out of this, it’s him. We need to have faith he knows what he’s doing. I need you to support me.”

  “Support you? Support you as you walk to your death? I’m expected to support that?” He rakes his fingers through his hair. “Nigel’s number one concern is the mission, and my only concern is you! I love Nigel like a brother, but he’s not the one who will be mourning you if you get killed!”

  “Mate,” Nigel says, “I saw what you went through last time. I never want to see it again. I wouldn’t do that to you or Lily.”

  Gavin’s pleading eyes hit me like a knife through the heart. As much as I know it’s hurting him, I can’t just walk away. I’ve come this far. I can’t give up now. I need to do this, for me. Is it selfish of me? Yes, and I’m not proud of the fact that I’m putting his feelings second to mine, but if I don’t do this, I’ll spend the rest of my life looking over my shoulder and wondering what would have happened. I’ll end up resenting him, and it will kill us. “I have to.”

  His head falls forward, and his shoulders slump. “Fighting dragons with chopsticks.” He runs his fingers through his hair then looks up. “If you insist on doing this, I’ll support you. Not because I agree but because I know you’ll do it anyway, and I’d rather have you focused on the mission than on our row.”

  Nigel claps. “Good, now that’s settled, the next order of business…”

  I kiss Gavin. “Thank you.”

  He leans his forehead against mine. “Just come back to me.”

  They go on discussing the ins and outs of the plan. I’ve heard the details a million times, and I could recite them in my sleep. But as annoying as it is, the repetition is what will make this successful. Once they’ve drilled every step into my brain, we pack up. I reach into the compartment to retrieve my carry-on just as Isla puts hers in. She ignores me after she secures her bag.

  I put my hand on her arm. “If I haven’t said this before, I want to tell you that what you’re doing, rescuing those hostages, is very brave.”

  “It’s my job,” she retorts.

  “Well, either way. Good luck and stay safe.”

  She nods. “You too.” Her eyes catch mine, and for a flash, we share a moment. “Well? What are you waiting for? I can’t leave until you get your fat ass out of here.”

  Nope, maybe we didn’t.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Lily

  Gavin’s quiet and reserved on our drive from the airport to the exchange site. I try to get his attention, but he just looks out the window. I’d say it’s the beautiful landscape that has captivated him, but the sun has risen, and now the desert is just endless miles of cactus and dirt. Sure, at first it’s pretty because it’s so different, but the novelty wears off quickly.

  I thread my fingers through his. “You mad at me?”

  Without looking at me, he shakes his head. “No. I told you I would support you, and I will. You need your wits and confidence about you, and I won’t do anything to chip away at that.”

  “But you’re not happy.”

  He sighs and turns to face me. “I want you safe, but you run straight into danger and I’m powerless to stop you. I can’t protect you from them, and I can’t protect you from yourself. I just have to sit on the sidelines and pray you make it out of this unscathed. It’s not about my pride or my ego… I just want you safe.”

  “Gavin, I—”

  He squeezes my hand. “Shhh, enough about that. Right now, the best way I can help you stay safe is to help you prepare. Have you thought about what you’re going to say to him?”

  He smiles and carries on talking about my confrontation with Rafa as if nothing’s wrong, enthusiastically crafting my approach. He tries so hard to mask his feelings, but knowing how upset he is eats away at me. I try to push it out of my thoughts, but I feel awful.

  When we arrive at the exchange site, we’re swarmed by agents. Greene introduces me to forty-five FBI and DEA agents from all over the country. I don’t remember any of their names, but they all answer to Agent, so I’m not sure it matters. There are six additional agents from Interpol, along with sixteen more of Nigel’s men. Nigel’s men
are in charge of the hijacking. Thirty agents will be at the truck exchange location, and the remaining twenty-one will stay here, waiting to take down Rafa. I look around the run-down truck stop and wonder where the hell these men and women will hide? But when Max calls for a practice run, they melt into the landscape. It’s really amazing.

  While the team goes over last-minute particulars, Peter explains the timeline to me. They’ve planned this down to the minute, and there’s no wiggle room. As of now, Rafa thinks his trucks and D’ante will meet him in Dateland, a small town that’s nothing more than a rest stop between Tucson and San Diego, at three in the morning tomorrow. The trucks will leave the Morelia stash house at ten this morning, and Nigel and the crew will hijack the trucks when they reach Rio Rico around one in the afternoon. After we get confirmation that the heist went smoothly, I’ll confront Rafa around two. That’ll give him a little time to confirm that I have the trucks, throw a hissy fit, and get the wheels in motion to get Arrow to Tucson in time to make this all work.

  After Nigel’s team’s last attempt to extract the boy, Rafa moved Arrow from his compound in Michoacán to a small house in Puerto Peñasco, a sleepy beach town about four hours from Tucson. We have to time this whole thing right so that Rafa will actually believe he can make the exchange and still get to Dateland in time to meet D’ante. In Rafa’s mind, he’ll be cutting it close, but it’s completely doable.

  After all the run-throughs, the teams split up, and suddenly this feels very real. What the fuck have I gotten myself into? Gavin, Max, myself, and the rest of the “confrontation team” take a fleet of vans to Tucson and hang out in a hotel room until show time. It gives us a few hours to get our heads on straight, for me to freshen up my makeup, and to get our comm systems working.

  I do my best to appear calm and confident even though I’m a hysterical mess. But if there’s one thing I can do well, it’s fake it till I make it. Max, completely unfazed by stress, takes this opportunity to load up on all his Tucson favorite takeout. He sends our poor driver to five different restaurants! As ridiculous as it is, I can’t fault his choices. Since I don’t know when or if I’ll make it back to Tucson, (hell, I don’t know if I’ll make it out of Tucson alive), I might as well order something too.

  I’ve been craving Bisonwitches since I graduated, but now the sight of my beloved Cally sandwich makes me want to vomit. It’s not the food—it’s the cesspool of stress-induced acid eating away at my stomach lining. I’m picking at my sandwich when Gavin’s phone rings. Even though I’ve been watching the clock and waiting for this call, the sound startles me, making me jump out of my skin and knock my sandwich on the floor.

  Gavin puts his phone on speaker. “Go, Nigel. We’re all here.”

  “We have the trucks. Went off without a hitch.”

  Cheers and high-fives erupt around the room. But not from me. I pull my knees up to my chest and rest my chin on my knee. I’m relieved stage one is complete and everyone is safe, but that means I’m on deck.

  “You should be getting the video file any moment,” Nigel explains.

  My cell dings, indicating I’ve received a message. I slide the screen and see Nigel’s sent me three photos of the trucks and handcuffed drivers and a video of one of the driver’s conveying to Rafa that this is indeed real.

  “Remember Peter and three other men have been following Rafa since he left Mexico,” Nigel says. “They’re in positon. If you get even the slightest sense something is wrong, get out of there. They will cover you.”

  I nod even though he can’t see me.

  “Good luck, and call me when you’re done. Remember, you’ve got this,” he says before clicking off.

  I take a deep breath. Rafa tried to kill me. Tried to sell me. He’s been methodically trying to ruin my life. I have the best team in the world backing me up. I’ve got this. I look at Gavin. “Let’s roll.”

  **********

  University Blvd is packed with red-shirt-wearing fans on their way to the big game. It’s a typical late afternoon in early March in Tucson, and there are a number of people in shorts and flip-flops. They’re probably hammered, so the fifty-degree, dry-desert weather doesn’t bother them in the least.

  Standing across the street from Frog N’ Firkin, I’m well hidden behind a swarm of freshmen trying to get into Gentle Bens, where the bouncers are known for being unable to tell the difference between a twenty-dollar bill and a real ID. I have a perfect view of the bar that was my home away from home for three years while I paid my way through school. As far as college jobs went, it was perfect. I got all the hours I needed, and because of the tiny drinking problem common amongst the trust-fund babies that make up a huge portion of the U of A student population, my tables were always full and the tips were huge, even in the middle of the day.

  I finally spot Rafa at a corner table. Saying a silent prayer that I make it out of this alive, I cross the street and walk straight up to his table. He doesn’t even look up when I arrive.

  “Another pitcher, would you, cariño?” he says with an obviously fake Spanish accent.

  I plop down in the chair across from him. “Get off your ass and get it your damn self. From the look of it, you could use the exercise. What do the little college girls you hit on think of the Buddha belly you’re rocking? What was that line from the movie? ‘You keep getting older, and they stay the same age’? How’s that working out for you?”

  His eyes go wide as he stares at me over the rim of his glass. “You look pretty good for a dead girl.” He puts his beer down and clucks his tongue. “No matter what I do, you just keep slipping through my fingers.”

  I pick up his glass and take a long sip. Swallowing it, I fight the urge to gag. I detest beer, but I’m trying to show him I’m not afraid of him. “I’m like a cat. Nine lives and all that.”

  He snorts. “Ash always said you were the best pussy he’s ever had.”

  I put my feet up on the arm of his chair. “He certainly sampled enough to have a strong basis of comparison.”

  He grabs the beer from me. “No matter what I offered him, he’d never let me have a taste.” He holds up a finger. “Just one fuck. He wouldn’t give me just one. I never understood that. It wasn’t like we hadn’t shared before.”

  It’s hard for me not to laugh at his accent. Does anyone actually buy that? I cross my arms. “Gosh, I suppose I should be grateful to him for keeping me to himself. I’m sure that must be a compliment, but I’m just not feeling it.”

  He picks up the pitcher and pours what little remains into his glass. “One day I’m sure I’ll have you, and I bet it’ll be worth every minute.”

  “Emphasis on minute, I’m sure. Just ask the friend you sent to babysit me in London. We had a helluvah time. Let me know when you’re ready for your turn.” I bite the air, dramatically making my teeth clack.

  He crosses his legs. “I’d heard rumors, but nothing was confirmed. I honestly didn’t think you had it in you.”

  I smile. “You know nothing about me.”

  He shrugs. “I know more than you think. Except for why you’re here. Nostalgic for the old days?” He nods toward the bar. “You always did look hot in that tight T-shirt and short shorts. You could go slip into a uniform and wait on me just like old times.” As he adjusts himself, a disgusting smile creeps across his face. “The thought of you serving me makes me tingle in all the right places.”

  “Not a chance. If you recall, the last time someone tried to turn me into a servant, it didn’t turn out so well for him. But I digress…” Trying to hide my revulsion, I pull my feet back and cross my legs. “I have something you want.”

  He puts his hand on my thigh and slides it north. After I kick him hard with my pointed-toed boots, he’s kind enough to pull his hand back.

  “Not that.” I pull my phone out of my purse and scroll until I find the video. “I think you’re missing these?”

  His eyes go wide when he sees the septic trucks. Grabbing my arm, he leans forw
ard. “How the fuck did you get these?”

  Looking at his hand squeezing my arm so tightly it’s sure to bruise, I say, “Now, now, there’s no reason to get grabby. I’m happy to turn over those dirty, stinky trucks as soon as you give me what I want.”

  He squeezes tighter. “Why should I give you a damn thing? I could just end you here.”

  I roll my eyes. “We both know you’re not going to do that. You need those trucks far more than I do. What will I do with two hundred kilos of heroin? You know drugs were always wasted on me.”

  “What do you want?” he asks through gritted teeth.

  “Arrow. You deliver Ash’s kid to me, and I’ll give you the trucks. We both leave and go on our merry way, never to hear from each other again.”

  He snorts. “That’s what this is about? The damn kid?” He leans forward. “What the fuck do you want the kid for anyway? Miss Ash so much you need a mini-Ash to fill the void in your life?”

  I look at my watch. “You have five hours to get on board before I go through Ash’s phone. You weren’t the only bad boy he did business with. I’m sure I can find someone who wants to buy a shitload of heroin.” I get my hand away from his grasp and stand. I pull a card with my number written on it from my pocket and leave it on the table, then I point at my watch. “Tick tock.”

  As I walk away, I focus all my attention on each step. Walk, don’t run. Put a little sway in your step to appear confident. Stop shaking.

  Gavin opens the door of the van and jumps out as I approach. “You were amazing!” He pulls me into his arms. “Good show, luv. Truly good show.”

  “Stage two down. One to go, and then we’re finally free,” I say into his chest. He’s squeezing me so tightly I can’t breathe. “Oxford, you’re going to have to let me go. We need to get moving.”

  “In a moment,” he says into my hair. “I just need to hold you for another moment before I let you go back into this madness.”

  The obstinate part of me wants to fight him and tell him I’m fine, but the petrified part of me wins out. I hug him tighter.