Cold Hands,

ters like surgical blades. Inside the rear cabin of the lead escort SUV the atmosphere was suffocatingly t

that you knew her. Who is this girl.Matteo stared at her pale features. The high cheekbones, the delicate curve of her nose, the small notch in her chin. He remembered the intelligence file his men had gathered seven months ago during the violent purge of the rival Norte del Valle remnants. He remembered the photograph pinned to a wooden board in a secret war room a photo of a smiling young university student holding hands with a young man whose face had eventually been crossed out with red ink.Her name is Isabel Matteo murmured, his thumb unconsciously wiping a smudge of dark mud from her cheek. Isabel Rojas.Esteban's breath hitched. His eyes widened in absolute shock. Rojas? As in Santiago Rojas?The same Matteo said darkly.Jesus Christ, Matteo Esteban swore under his breath, turning entirely around in his seat. Santiago was the head logistics lieutenant for the Cárdenas clan. He was the one leaking our drop zones in the Caribbean The man who almost got us killed in the coastal ambush You ordered his execution yourself six months ago His sister shouldn't even be alive she was supposed to be in Bogotá at school.She wasn't supposed to be on a pitch black mountain road in the middle of a torrential storm either Matteo growled, his eyes flashing with a dangerous, lethal intensity that made Esteban instantly shut his mouth. Yet here she is. Under my wheels. Dying in my arms.It could be a trap Esteban whispered fiercely. What if Santiago's people set this up? What if she was planted on that road?Look at her Esteban Matteo barked, pointing down at her broken, shivering body. Nobody orchestrates a trap by throwing an unarmed woman into the path of a four ton armored Mercedes traveling sixty miles an hour down a mudslide It was an accident. A cruel twisted stroke of fate.The convoy suddenly veered sharply to the left, passing through heavy electronic steel gates hidden deep within the forested hills of El Poblado. The iron gates swung shut behind them with a heavy deafening clang locking out

my job.Matteo hesitated for a fraction of a second. He looked down at Isabel's face. Her lips were pale, tinted blue from the cold storm. Her dark lashes rested against her cheeks.Suddenly, her body convulsed violently on the table. Her eyes snapped open not fully, but enough for the harsh fluorescent lights of the operating room to catch the striking, emerald green color of her irises.She turned her head slightly, her gaze locking onto Matteo's dark hollow eyes. She couldn't see clearly through the haze of shock, pain, and blood, but she felt the crushing, warm grip of the hand holding hers.With a final desperate surge of consciousness Isabel's fingers tightened around Matteo's wrist her nails digging into his skin

blood. The blood of the sist

lent hallway the piercing sound of the flatlining monitor continued