Shooting Scars: The Artists Trilogy 2 (30 page)

I was still shaking my head, trying to be gentle about it, when my eyes went over her tiny head and focused on something in the crowd of shoppers.

There was a man, a white man about a foot taller than everyone else, who had stopped down the aisle in front of one of the stalls. I couldn’t see his face, just his profile from behind. Strong tanned neck, short black hair that glinted blue in the sunlight, and ears that stuck out slightly.

My heart hammered in my chest, demanding I acknowledge its presence.

It couldn’t be.

Then he turned around and looked my way.

Looked right at me.

Blue, beautifully blue and soulful eyes behind Clark Kent glasses. Strong, wide jaw, full lips, straight nose. Model looks on a model body, dense muscular shoulders, biceps I couldn’t fit my hands around. I knew because I’d tried. Tight black t-shirt that showed it all off, including a sling that went around one shoulder, propping up his heavily-inked arm.

Camden McQueen.

I dropped the sarong, my bags, everything, caught up in his stare. It couldn’t be him. Why was he here?

Had he really come for me after all?

An enormous wash of peace and heart and warmth came over me, giving me strength and resolve that seemed to resonate in my bones. I broke out into a smile so wide I thought my face would split in two. My chest was about to burst.

But he did not return the smile. He kept staring at me, over the heads of everyone bustling past him, the chaotic noise and movements. His eyes were hard, almost cold. Hurt. Something inside me was bleeding, just a trickle.

Then he turned around, started walking away. It wiped the smile clear off my face.

“Wait!” I yelled, trying to be heard above the noise of the market. I left my bags at my feet and started running down the aisle to get to him. I could see his head disappearing slowly, the further he got away from me, the more the patrons, couples, families, tourists, got between us. “Camden!”

Why was he trying to get away from me? Did he not see me? Did he not recognize me?

I kept pushing my way through, knocking over people’s bags, shoving them into each other, knocking over crates of fruit, yelling, “
Lo siento
,” the whole time. I squeezed past everything and everyone, ducking, dodging, trying my hardest to catch Camden.

And just when the aisle intersected with another aisle, just when I saw the space in front of me open up, someone stepped out in front of me. Not just someone.

Someone and his many bodyguards.

I nearly ran straight into Travis Raines.

My feet stopped in time and I wavered inches away from him.

He was staring down at me, a predatory smile on his face. I shot him a quick glance, forgetting all about the part I was supposed to be playing, and said, “I’m sorry.”

I made a move to get around him – I had to get to Camden – but he reached out and grabbed my arm, softly. His fingers met with my skin and I felt revulsion swarm all over me.

“Young lady, you look familiar to me,” he said. His accent was strange, Southern but he’d subconsciously picked up on the cadence of Spanish.

My brain was caught, bogged up, stuck. I had to act the part. I had to find Camden. I had to destroy Travis. I had to get out of here. I had to stop running from my past. I had to run after my future.

My future was getting away.

I swallowed hard, realizing that Travis was staring at me, waiting for an answer and if I didn’t play my cards right, I wouldn’t have a future to run away to.

“Uh, I don’t think we’ve met before,” I said and smiled sweetly, amazed that my voice sounded steady. “I’m not from here.”

“I can see that,” he said, tone light and eyes … well, I tried not to look at his eyes, at their cold dark depths. I looked at his bodyguards instead, all four of them, big guys with faces made of stone. Each second I stood there was a second away from getting Camden. My Camden. Who came for me, to rescue me, to make sure I was safe. My Camden who looked at me with all the hurt in the world.

Oh god, what have I done?

My eyes drifted over to the stalls, hoping I’d spot him somewhere. Wishful thinking. Travis leaned in closer.

“Looking for someone?” he asked.

“I thought I saw someone I knew.” Shit. I needed to hold it together.

“Then you see how it can happen. I saw you last night. You were at my club.”

“Your club?” I asked, taking in his bodyguards again because that’s exactly what a young woman would do if this man was talking to her like this, surrounded by these thugs.

He grinned and clacked his teeth together, like he was taking bites out of something. It made my blood run cold. “Yes, my club. I own The Zoo. I take it you don’t know who I am?”

You are the monster who ruined my life
, I thought to myself, keeping my face as neutral as possible.
You are the reason I’m here and not running after the person who came after me.

“No,” I said, “an American I’m guessing.”

He cocked his head to the side, appraising me, something that Javier would sometimes do. The comparison made me feel sick.

How the fuck did my mother get involved with this man?

“Yes. You’re an American too,” he said. “California accent perhaps?”

I frowned, trying to remember what my fake ID had said. My fake name. My god, I’d forgotten everything already.

“You’re good,” I told him. “I grew up in California. Pismo Beach.”

He clacked his teeth together again. Psycho.

“And what is your name, California girl?”

I swallowed hard. “Eleanor.”

“That’s a lovely name. Do people call you Ellie for short?”

My heart stopped for a moment. “No. Nora.”

I had to get the fuck out of here before I really screwed things up. This was a bad idea. I wasn’t going to pull it off. Javier had all kinds of wrong faith in me.

Travis touched my arm lightly. I forced a smile.

“Nora, would you like to have a drink with me?”

I opened my mouth to say no but something told me that “no” was out of the question with him. I don’t think anyone said no to Travis Raines and lived to tell about it.

“Right now?” I asked.

He gave a slow nod. “Yes. Now.”

“Sure,” I said, forcing another motherfucking smile on my face. “I’m sure you’re not a psycho axe murderer.”

He let out a guffaw. “No, I’m not an axe murderer. I’m just an expat, a businessman, a capitalist. And I can show you a good time in Veracruz, Miss …?”

“Willis.”

“Lovely. Miss Nora Willis. Come have a drink with me, Miss Nora Willis.”

He held out his arm for me, like any self-respecting woman in her right mind would take it. I eyed it. “You never told me your name,” I said.

“I didn’t? It’s Travis.”

“Nice to meet you, Travis.”

He led me around, back the way I came, where I picked up my bags, and I fought every single urge in my body to turn around and look for Camden. He’d come all this way for me and yet somehow I knew he was gone.

“I
am going to fucking kill Javier Bernal.”

The sentence hung in the car like a layer of fine dust. Gus put the bag of dried pork rinds that he was eating out of down and gave me a steady look.

“I believe it,” he said, crumbs in his mustache. “But do you really expect to go into that shop with guns blazing and get out of it alive? No one just kills Javier Bernal.” He resumed munching. “Besides, I don’t think you really need to kill him. He’s obviously not keeping Ellie there against her will.”

My eyes seared into him, enough that his mouth jerked in surprise. “Sorry. I know this is tough for you.”

Tough didn’t even begin to describe it. Tough was easy. This was insurmountable. After we followed Ellie and Javier back to the fish shop, after I saw them … together … his hands and lips all over her, her head back, succumbing to him, I passed right out from the pain. Anyone else would say it was my shoulder, my gunshot wound sneaking up on me. It wasn’t that. It was my heart being ripped in tiny, inconsequential pieces, bloody and cold. It was my pride falling down to its knees. It was everything I thought we’d shared turning out to be a lie and the woman I was chasing was nothing more than a ghost.

Gus let me pass out on the fishing boat until just before dawn, when the fishermen were coming to start their day. We went up the street, back to the stolen car and hunkered down there for most of the morning, watching the fish shop, trying to decide what to do next.

I wanted to barge in there and shoot Javier right between the eyes. Part of me didn’t even care if it was a suicide mission. But he was right. It wouldn’t matter – it would feel good for a second, but the damage was already done.

Gus cleared his throat. “To be fair, Camden, we don’t know what’s been going on here. Ellie might be playing a part.”

“She’s still in love with him.”

“I don’t think so. Ellie doesn’t love easily. There’s something else at work here, more than memories. We don’t know what Javier has held over her head or what he’s promised her.”

“You sound like you’re taking her side,” I grunted, glaring through the dirty windscreen at the fish shop in the distance.

“I’m always going to take her side,” Gus stated. I looked over at him and he gave me an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I like you, Camden, but my allegiance is to her.”

“Why? Why are you doing all of this for her? What has she ever done for you?”

He blinked fast a few times, as if keeping back tears, and then turned his attention to his bag of pork rinds. “Love isn’t just about keeping score, or what one does for another person and what another person has to do in return.”

His words struck me. “You love her?”

He nodded. “I do. I’m not in love with her. It’s not like that. I’m not like you. I care for her a great deal, more than she’ll ever really know. It’s … complicated.”

I frowned, watching him for a few moments, trying to figure him out. “Everything that has to do with Ellie is complicated,” I finally said, checking Gus’s watch on my wrist. I was able to take another pill in about an hour. At this point it wasn’t for the pain anymore – the pain in my heart had overtaken the wound on my shoulder and no pill would make that go away. But it gave me a sense of happiness, of oblivion, that I so desperately wanted to hold on to.

I know what Gus had been saying. I’d been a damn, damn fool. Always the fool, Camden McQueen.

“You’ll work this out,” Gus said. “You can get the chance I never had. Ellie has a good heart in her, hidden but it’s there, and you bring that out. You’re good for her and you’re good for each other. Don’t you forget that.”

I wanted to. I wanted nothing more than to forget.

“Someone’s leaving,” Gus announced and I sat up in the car, ducking down a bit. We were a block up the street, no one could really see us in the car. Still, it didn’t hurt to be careful.

A man left the shop, walking down the street toward us. He was thinner than Javier and as he came close, I recognized him. Raul.

Now I really had to duck. I put my head down as if I were looking for something in the glove compartment.

“He’s gone,” Gus said. “Didn’t even look this way. Who was that?”

“Raul,” I said, cautiously poking my head back up. “One of Javier’s assholes.”

“Everyone’s got at least one.”

We waited a few more moments, then Javier and Ellie stepped out of the fish shop and into the Range Rover. I wished we were in the GTO, not this piece of shit car. It would only have taken a few seconds for me to grab one of Gus’s rifles from the back and blow his head off. I’m sure Ellie would have a bit of a shock if her Mexican lover’s head exploded beside her, but I figured she deserved it.

I patted the dashboard anxiously. “Okay, there they go.”

Gus brought the hatchback out onto the street, keeping far back from the Range Rover. We didn’t have the cover of night anymore and while Javier wouldn’t be looking for me – at least I didn’t think he would – he would be looking for anyone following them. He had very precious cargo with him – himself.

“Do you think he’s taking her to the market to see Travis?” I asked even though I already knew the answer. Something must have gone wrong last night when she was at the club and now they were trying again.

“It’s possible, unless they’re only going on an outing.”

“How romantic,” I spat out bitterly.

Gus gave me a look I didn’t bother to acknowledge. I sat back in my seat, drumming my fingers on my knee, trying to keep whatever I had left in me together. I felt like I was coming apart at the seams with each second that passed, the images of what I saw in that sick, grainy, green light kept flashing in my head, settling over me like a gaseous cloud; toxic and deadly, a breeding ground for parasites. I was being eaten alive, consumed by broken love and betrayal and so much fucking hatred for myself. Because I was the one who let this happen. I fell for the wrong girl over and over and over again.

“Take it easy,” I heard Gus say. I looked down at my leg. I’d dug my fingernails into my knee, the skin beneath my shorts raised with drops of blood. It looked like the panther I’d tatted there was bitten by a bigger cat. I stretched out my hand trying to relax.

We were in Veracruz when my watch went off and I popped another two pills, chewing them with bitter delight.

“Do you think they’ll recognize the stolen car?” I asked woozily as we entered the city.

“People steal cars here all the time. No one’s looking for it. Still, one of us should go back to the GTO and put it somewhere else. The neighborhood seemed fairly safe but I wouldn’t trust a soul in this city.”

“By someone, I’m guessing you mean you.” I tried to raise my wounded arm to show him I couldn’t drive but drooled on myself instead. These were the good moments, the ones where I was reduced to nothing more than a buzzing invalid.

“We don’t have any guns on us. I’ve got a knife in my sock, that’s it. We won’t be able to do anything about Ellie until we’re armed.”

Even through my brief opiate haze, I had to admire Gus’s dedication to this. I wanted to tell him that maybe there was no point in even going through with anything anymore – the Ellie we saw last night did not look like one who’d be willing to go with us. I’d remembered his Stockholm Syndrome on steroids remark. This might be what we’re dealing with. In fact I hoped it was because the alternative had already torn me apart.