21
Luggage landed in the back of the pickup, a dust cloud wafting from the bed. Anna grabbed the rusty door handle, cracked vinyl catching her jeans as she slid onto the bench seat. She eyed the Texan’s knee pressed tight against hers, his other encroaching on Art’s territory. As the largest member of the three-man security team, it would have made more sense for him to sit in the back, but he was safer up here.
Estrella shimmied in the back seat, rubbing elbows with the guards flanking her left and right.
Art gripped the wheel, inching closer to his window. “Where to?”
“Flores.” Anna tossed the GPS on the dash. “Should be there in about three hours.”
“I vote for new wheels first. I don’t like the patrol agents having an exact description of our vehicle, or that you reminded them
