“What are you doing, Meredith?”
“It's not your business!” Her eyebrows pull together, like she's worried, but then her face twists angrily. She jerks against me. “Let me go!”
“I will,” I say evenly, “but I’m coming with you.”
“No you’re not!” She jerks again, this time hard enough to throw me off, and in a heartbeat she's sailing through the window.
It takes me a second longer, because I've got to push my body through using only my right hand for balance. My booted feet hit sand about three feet below me; a dust cloud puffs around me, blocking, for a second, my view of a row of scrubby bushes and beyond that, a quiet rural road topped by a fading sunset.
Merri is moving through the bushes, sticking close to the building, hunching down low to the ground. My legs are so much longer than hers, it's not hard to catch up. Only this time, instead of grabbing her arm, I throw both arms around her back.
I whirl her around to face me, gritting my teeth as she claws my neck. “Where are you going?”
“Let go!” Her eyes are dancing. Furious.
“No! Are you going back to Cientos? That’s crazy!”
She flails against me, trying her damnedest to get away. “A lot of things are crazy!”
“You need to—”
“No,” she hisses. Her chest is heaving, her hands now locked around my forearms. “They'll kill me, here or there. Anywhere. I'm dangerous to everyone. That's why I'm doing this.”
What the fuck?
I guess I give her a look that shows her just how crazy I think she is, because she looks triumphant.
“See?” She pulls back a little, so I can see every inch of her stubborn face. “I told you to go away and forget you found me. You think you can go up against the Cientos Cartel?”
I notice movement behind her as I say, “I think I will.”
Then I see the glint of light on metal, and I realize there's a gun to Merri's head.
Merri
I KNOW SOMETHING is wrong by the look on my stubborn angel's face. In the dim light of dusk, I can see him blanch. Then I feel the gun against my head and I just let the breath seep out of me.
So this is it. This is how my life will end.
I clench my right fist against my angel's arm and pretend that I'm holding my rosary. I left it in my luggage, in the attic, along with a long letter to Sister Mary Carolina; if I were to bring the rosary anywhere near Jesus, he'd accuse me of trying to manipulate him.
I say a silent Hail Mary and pray that the Sisters here are right. That God forgives; that He's forgiven me.
For what seems like too long, none of us move. It’s quiet, so I can hear the heavy breaths of the man behind me. It's Guapo, I think—one of Cientos' lieutenants. He manages the sex business. He's tall, always wears black, and he smells like the vanilla tobacco he loves to smoke.
If Guapo has his gun to my head, there's no way I'll make it out al—
A gunshot bursts my eardrums and I wait to die. When I see my angel jump from his crouch, I just assume he's been shot.
I'm blinking, wondering dully why God would send an angel to me only to have him killed, when hands grab me. Not Guapo's, the angel's.
I don’t get a chance to orient myself before we’re running alongside the stucco wall, feet kicking up the sand nestled around the building’s base. Despite having spent my entire time here on the inside of this building, I’m pretty sure we’re moving toward the front. I didn't climb out where Father Mendez told me to, near the cafeteria wing that got burned, as it’s not Thursday evening.
Is this another full-on attack? Are they going to burn the whole clinic this time?
I try to communicate my worries to my angel, try to tug on his arm and tell him, “I have to be sure they’re okay!” and for a second I think he's heard me. He drops back, but instead of addressing my concern, he gets behind me, shoving me forward with his right elbow.
“What the hell?”
For a second, as I'm shoved along, I worry that he's with some other cartel. Or at least hired by one. He could even be freelancing—taking me hostage so Jesus has to pay to get me back.
I throw my arms out, wanting to stop and think before I just go with this guy, but I hear men’s voices shouting somewhere nearby, and my feet are moving too fast for me to slow down. We round the corner, to the front of the building, on the side where it’s charred, and I’m shocked to see Juan, plus Malcolm, one of Jesus’s lieutenants, on the pebble path in front of the building. They're both pointing guns my way.