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She was tired, disillusioned, and damned hungry. The last item she could do something about. If she ate at this hotel, her cash would go fast. But fancy rooms like hers had amenities. She slid off the bed and went to the built-in refrigerator.
She scored a mini bottle of wine plus two cans of soda, to go with bags of pretzels and peanuts. It would have to do. She hadn’t eaten all day, except for a piece of dry toast, so the snacks tasted better than they had a right to.
She’d been roughed up, chased by criminals, and come too close to getting bumped off. That sort of stuff worked up an appetite. But a decent meal would have to wait. Her top priority was to come up with a plan—any plan—because right then, she had no idea what to do.
After polishing off the last of the nuts, Lela sat in one of the padded armchairs. In the darkened room, she considered her future. Gangs were known for their brutal methods. So if she was caught and interrogated, her fate was gloomy.
One question came to mind. When the gang had first spotted her, why didn’t they kill her? One shot would have done it. It meant that the cartel had a smart lieutenant in the ranks, one who intended to find out all she knew before ending her life.
Sure, she’d handed over enough evidence to have the senator arrested. But there was a process before the criminal conviction. Her testimony played a key role, so ultimately the cartel would have to snuff her out. But not before questioning her, in a style uniquely theirs.
Lela shuddered. She couldn’t allow that to happen.
The scene at the train station guaranteed that her photo would be splattered all over news and social networking sites, if it wasn’t already. With the media involved, it would make hiding more difficult. And the FBI wouldn’t be able to stop the news release. The senator had connections, and could call in favors. Although he’d make sure the trail didn’t lead back to him. He’d ensure that all eyes were on Lela, so disappearing was impossible…or was it?
