He strides closer, close enough so I can smell his sweat and see his stark white teeth. And his skin: I can't see a single pore. His lips aren't chapped. His nose isn't crooked. His eyes are even bluer this close. Tall, dark, and handsome, I think dizzily. I'm gawking at my killer.

I back into the bookshelves, holding out my arms. "Who are you?" It's embarra.s.sing, the way my voice comes out a croak. I flail behind myself for a heavy book and hold it out like that might keep him away.

His blue eyes widen. "You don't believe me."

"No joke!" I'm shrill. My chest is heaving now. He starts to step closer but I wave the book. "Don't do that! No! I want to know who you are, right now!"

He's from the U.S. Government. He must be. Sean really did pin everything on me and I'm a wanted woman. Wanted for dealing drugs. And they found me down in Mexico! I have ties to Jesus Cientos!

Mother Mary, I'm going to go to prison.

My eyes fill with stinging tears, but I'm not sad. I'm angry. "Do you know why I'm hiding here? Because a Mexican drug lord wants to kill me. Because he bought me as-" my voice cracks here- "a s.e.x slave! I was sold as a s.e.x slave! I don't know what Sean told you but I didn't do those things. I have my flaws, I have my flaws but I was just his girlfriend!"

I burst into tears-angry tears; my lifelong nemesis-and it's not a second later that his hands are on my shoulders, squeezing gently but firmly. I'm terrified and outraged, but his right hand moves to the crown of my head, smoothing down my hair, cupping my neck, and G.o.d help me, it feels really good. Too good. Maybe he was sent by Cientos. I jerk back. Look up into his eyes. Again, the shock: This guy is seriously hot. I shove it away and side-step toward the door.

"Why are you here?" I hold my arms out. "What do you want?"

"I told you already. I'm here to help you escape."

"Who says I need help?"

"I do. And I know you don't have much time."

Does he know about tomorrow? How, unless he does works for Jesus? But why is he here if he does? "If you're a sicario, just be straight with me. I don't like suspense."

He's confused, and growing frustrated. "I get that you have a lot of questions, but we don't have much time. I got into it with one of Ciento's guys-"

"So you are with the cartel!" I jab my finger at him, and he groans.

"Noooo. I'm trying to get you back to America."

My heart starts pounding so hard I think I might pa.s.s out "D-do you want me because of Sean? Because I know him-knew him."

"No. I don't even know who that is." That seems to be the truth; I feel a cold rush of relief. "I only want to take you back."

"Who are you?"

He smiles a little, lopsided. "I'm your guardian angel, Meredith Kinsey."

I'm not buying it. "I go by Merri."

"Merri." He says it with so much relief. "Merri, we don't have much time. I got in an altercation with one of Cientos's guys, so by now Cientos knows I'm coming for you." I try not to shake as those blue eyes blaze. "We need to leave ASAP."

"I- you can't." I stand there, breathing hard, struggling to explain why to him and myself why this thing I've wanted so bad can't work. "If I were to leave with you, they'd find us." My heart aches at the thought of what might happen to the clinic. "And plus I can't be sure you're not with them. How do you even know my name?"

He leans back against a bookshelf, looking weary. "You're a missing person, Meredith."

Missing. No I'm not. I've been right here. It feels to me that the rest of the world has gone missing. I lean against the bookshelves, too, because my legs are giving out.

"Who do you work for?" Her green eyes, still bright from tears, are dancing, angry now. Her strawberry hair, tied into a bun behind her head, glints in the fluorescent light. Her cheeks are pink. Her lips are tight.

Meredith Kinsey in the flesh is super hot, so help me.

I grit my teeth and try to focus on what she said just now. Who do I work for? Right.

I don't have an answer for that. Preparation never was my strong suit, so I just bulls.h.i.t. "I find s.e.x slaves and people sold on the black market and bring them back into the U.S."

She blinks. "For what agency?"

Uhh...what?

"What agency are you with? FBI? The State Department."

f.u.c.k. I clear my throat. "We're a group of bounty hunters. We do contracts for the government." That seems plausible-or maybe not.

"Which branch of the government?" she asks.

I scratch my head. "I've only been with the outfit for not even a year. They just send me on jobs." My dad always said I was good at looking dumb. He also taught me how to lie.

She folds her arms under her gorgeous b.r.e.a.s.t.s and looks me over. "How did you get here?"

Flailing... "I rode a motorcycle."

She doesn't like that. I can tell, because her lips pinch and she lets her breath out slowly. While I fumble for something to make it better, she fires again. "Why do you look familiar?"

My throat tightens. Is it possible that I look more like my father than I thought? I blink, then shrug, like I haven't the slightest. "No idea."

She brushes a stray strand of hair off her forehead and sighs. "I'm not used to American faces anymore. That's probably it."

Whew. "Probably."

"How do you plan to get me away?"

You'd think she found me on the Internet. "Uh, I've arranged for you to cross the border. With me." Well, no s.h.i.t Sherlock. d.a.m.nit, I'm striking out, but Merri is shaking her head. She doesn't seem to notice.

"I can't leave." She closes her eyes briefly. When they open again, they're wet. "The people here would be made to pay. They'd get hurt. I would need protection for them."

"What happens if you don't leave? Do you think that was the last bomb?"

She nods. "I do."

"Are you crazy?" Her eyes widen, and I nod. "Yeah, your intentions are pretty clear. You know the nuns here want you safe. You should be safe."

Merri's eyes squeeze shut, and when she opens them, she looks bleak. "I'm sure they do, but I just can't. I can't risk innocent lives."

This floors me. "Aren't you innocent?"

She brushes her palm over her cheek, like she's wiping away a tear. "We work with children here. I can't leave. It's just...not safe." A strand of hair falls from her bun as she lowers her head, looking at the floor with wide, wet eyes.

"I'm sorry," she says, jutting her chin up so our eyes meet. "Thank you for coming to find me." Her delicate mouth trembles. "Just tell them that you didn't."

CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

After a stunned moment, I follow Merri out of the door, but she was in a hurry, and she's nowhere to be seen. I start wandering the halls. I have no idea when the cartel will come for her-for us-and I don't think I can risk finding out. I don't want to force her to go with me, but I've got to figure out something.

The first thing I do is return to the waiting area to see if I can find my gun. The young girl from before is helping an older kid sign in on a clip board, and I don't see either of the guards or the older nun...I forgot her name. I turn around in a circle, and that's when I see it: the bottom end of the magazine, sticking out from between the leaves of a droopy, flowy plant sitting atop some filing cabinets.

Checking to be sure the girl is still helping the kid, I grab the gun, attach the magazine-just to be on the safe side-and stick it back in the belt of my pants. I hope by the time they notice it's missing, Merri and I will already be out of here.

After maybe twenty minutes of searching, I pause in the middle of some hallway and let out a deep breath. Meredith is here. Missy King is Meredith Kinsey. I almost can't believe it. I wonder again how she came to this fate-but does it matter? Am I still trying to ease my guilt? I pick up my pace and keep on the lookout for nuns, for anyone who can direct me to Meredith.

The building is actually four buildings: one that was apparently the old cafeteria, and was all but decimated by the bomb; another in the front that serves as the clinic; another pod serving as the sanctuary; and still another unit with the dorms. I've wandered into the church pod.

The carpeted halls are dark and smell like old Play Doh. I pa.s.s a young nun who is busy cleaning; she glances at me, then hurries by. An older nun chases a little girl who laughs ecstatically as she rushes past. I just keep moving, reminding myself that I'm doing nothing wrong. Another hall, a sharp right turn, and I see signs for the sanctuary. I peek inside, hoping to find Merri praying, but it's empty. The painted porcelain crucifix on the far wall glows under two weak lights. It kind of creeps me out. I cross through a hall at the back of the clinic, and I'm pretty sure that this will lead me to the dorms. Where I hope to find Merri.

I'm feeling more and more stressed thinking of where the cartel is right now, when like an apparition, I see a swatch of reddish hair flying down the hallway right in front of me.

I pick up my pace, and I'm about to shout Merri's name when she ducks her head, and I notice the way she's dressed: black sweatpants and a grey t-shirt, plus sneakers. And she's creeping, like she doesn't want to be seen.

Interesting.

For a half second I hope maybe she's looking for me, but then she goes down another hallway, pushes through a door, and disappears.

By the time I finally get the nerve to follow her into the room, at least a minute has pa.s.sed. It's dark when I walk in. Then I notice movement, and I realize a window is open. A window is open, revealing a small swatch of the deep pink sky, and Merri is halfway out of it.

I don't think before acting. I close the distance between us in half a second and wrap my hand around her upper arm. "What are you doing?" I have a sick feeling in my stomach when I ask this. I've built Merri up to be innocent-the opposite of everything I'd thought about Missy King-but what if she's really some kind of drug runner or something?

Then she looks up at me, and I know I'm wrong. Her eyes are huge, her mouth a worried twist. And when she speaks, her voice is barely more than a rasp. "Are you here to take me to Jesus?"

"What? f.u.c.k no! I already told you that I'm not." I tighten my grip around her soft, warm arm, trying to tug her gently toward me, but her hands cling to the window frame.

"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 d.a.m.nedest 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 f.u.c.k?

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.

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 G.o.d 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 s.e.x 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 a.s.sume he's been shot.

I'm blinking, wondering dully why G.o.d 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 h.e.l.l?"

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.