I raised a brow. “To save me?”

“I’ve been assigned as your guardian until the immediate danger passes. I’m told you’re going to be important.”

“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “I helped Chance find his mother. I took care of business in Kilmer, and now I’m finished . I run a pawnshop. That’s all I want or need. It’s a good life.”

“Very well,” he said. “For the moment, put aside the matter of whether you have a role to play in things to come. Do you think you’ll survive to enjoy the quiet life if you don’t deal with Montoya?”

Montoya. Christ on a cracker, that name brought back memories I didn’t want. In rescuing Chance’s mother, I’d pissed off the jefe of a major cartel. It wasn’t like television, where it was all automatic weapons, either. These days, the cartels used warlocks, shamans, and voodoo priests—any advantage to get their merchandise to market and crush their rivals. Chance’s luck would keep him safe, even if his mother hadn’t forced Montoya to swear off pursuing vengeance against her son—and she’d called the Knights of Hell to witness the agreement.

So Chance was fine. Like a cat, he always landed on his feet. And I didn’t miss him at all. Really, I didn’t. He’d expected me to give up everything I’d built on my own here, just slide right back into the life I had left behind. But I was a different person. I wouldn’t go back, and if he’d wanted me as much as he claimed, he would’ve considered making some changes too, not expected me to yield everything for the joy of being with him.

Unfortunately, that left me as a scapegoat. Any good practitioner could’ve scryed for information on those responsible for the raid on his property. That meant Jesse, Chuch, and Eva might be vulnerable too. Me . . . well, crap. Kel was right. I was screwed.

“So he knows where I am. Why didn’t he send someone?”

“You know why.”

As I considered, I realized the hexed saltshaker was cleaner than a thug with a machete. Severed heads made the news, but some cartels didn’t want that kind of press. It interfered with business. And if Kel hadn’t come in, I’d be a silent statistic; Montoya could not have planned for God’s Hand.