He’d scared the mierda out of his sister, then sent her over to S&D to get the information he needed. All the time he’d been waiting in her apartment, he’d thought she’d done it. But the puta’s nerve had failed. That left him up shit creek in a wire canoe, an interesting American phrase that fit his present situation well. He channeled his panic into anger at Elena for double-crossing him. Jesus, if he’d known she was going to screw him, he would have gotten the hell out of her apartment hours ago. With his heart almost blocking his windpipe, he pushed himself off the couch, wincing as his injuries protested. Waiting a moment until he was steady on his feet, he started moving, heading for the door. The climb down the stairs was agony, and he cursed Elena for living in an apartment without an elevator. Outside, he paused for a moment on the stoop to catch his breath and make sure the coast was clear.
