Shooting Scars (The Artists Trilogy #2)

Gus shrugged quickly. “I have no idea. I don’t think we can afford to sit here and speculate.”


He was right about that. We ran out of the hotel and into the car. Gus had taken back the GTO. No one had touched the thing and I couldn’t blame them – with her scratched sides and smashed side mirrors, she looked like she was destined for the trash heap. But I knew better – I knew what she was capable of and I knew that today we’d need her speed and handling more than anything.

“You think the cops are still looking for this?” I asked as we cruised along the streets, trying to get the car and the blue dot to match up. I wished I was the one behind the wheel but Gus had proven himself with the car so far.

“I doubt it,” he said. “Mexico is a big country and we could be anywhere. People disappear easily in a few days. We’ll still be careful.”

We followed the blue dot as it went north along the Fidel Velázquez Highway, getting further away from the city. I started to get a bad feeling about all of this, as the buildings became more and more industrial.

My shoulder started to ache, I was all tensed up. “I don’t know, Gus.”

He nodded. “I know. This isn’t right. Something’s wrong.”

“I think she’s in danger.”

He gave me a grim look. “That kid is always in danger.”

The blue dot finally came to a stop at the end of a long road that ended into what looked like nothing. Ten minutes later, we were approaching the blue light. Gus took the GTO down a street with a few empty warehouses flanking the sides. At the end of the road was an office building with broken windows and a handful of cars parked outside. That was where she had to be. Unfortunately the software didn’t allow us to get more details and triangulate her position any closer.

“Either Javier has her,” I said, watching the area carefully as Gus pulled to the side of the road, a few yards away. “Or shit has hit the fan with Travis. How many guns do we need?”

Gus exhaled. “Whatever it is, I hope it’s enough.” He turned in his seat and started pulling them out of the bag in the backseat.

“This might hurt for a second,” he said and suddenly jammed my gun into the sling. Pain shot up my arm like rocket ships. “But it’s a good place for it.”

I winced, tears in my eyes, and looked down. He had placed it underneath my arm. No one could see it. “Fine. Give me two more as decoys.”

He handed me too small revolvers, I stuck one in my waistband and held the other one in my hand. That morning I’d put a knife in my sock.

Thunder rumbled in the distance as I eyed the Coffee Mate. “Think it’ll work a second time?”

“Don’t even think about,” he told me. He shoved a gun in his waistband and took another one to his lips kissing it. “Maybe this baby will get to see some action.” He smiled and then the smile went out of his eyes. I knew how he felt. There would be blood. I couldn’t let myself hesitate even once when it came to pulling the trigger, when it came to saving Ellie.

“Alright,” I said, giving him a heavy nod. “Let’s go see what trouble we’ll get ourselves into.”

We got out of the car and started hurrying down the sidewalk, guns to our sides, trying to be fast and inconspicuous all at once. It wasn’t easy, though there was no one on this dead end street. Heavy drops of rain began to fall from the sky. I was grateful for something to distract me from my nerves that were buzzing through me.

We were almost at the building, heading toward the side to see if we could see in the windows when I heard a gun being cocked. I knew that sound wasn’t necessary – it was there to make a point. To let us know we’d been caught.

Gus and I froze at the sound, making split second decisions in our heads. We had no choice but to turn around and see.

We did.

Javier was a few feet behind us, on the road, gun pointed at my head. Beside him was Raul, his gun aimed at Gus.

“Buenos dias, gringos,” Javier said with a smile. “Kindly drop your fucking guns and put your hands up or I’ll blow your heads right the fuck off.”

Gus and I exchanged a look. Defeat.

We did as we were told.

Javier waved his gun at us. “And kick it over, you know how this goes.”

I kicked mine angrily, as did Gus, guns clattering across the cracked pavement.

“Now,” Javier said, walking toward me, moving like a snake. I half expected his tongue to come shooting out, forked at the end. “I am going to frisk you for the rest of your weapons.” He stopped right in front of me, lips pressed together in a tight smile. “Try not to enjoy it too much.”

Karina Halle's books