Due to the uncomfortable seating, Jessica woke up just as dawn broke. Ronan was sound asleep in the passenger seat next to her, his bruises fading significantly.
Feeling uneasy, she propped herself up and reached out to touch Ronan's forehead.
But her wrist was grabbed before her hand could make contact.
Ronan opened his eyes, and Jessica said, "I was worried you might have a fever."
"I'm fine," Ronan released her wrist.
Jessica, however, didn't retract her hand and touched Ronan's forehead. Seeing that he wasn't noticeably feverish, she finally eased her worries.
"You're in the car, don't get out yet," Jessica went to the back of the car.
When she returned, Ronan also went to the back to tend to personal matters. He returned, rinsed his mouth, took an anti-inflammatory pill, and accepted the bag of bread that Jessica handed to him, then started eating.
Jessica asked, "What do we do next?"
Ronan's shoulders and back were hurting. After a brief pause, he said, "They won't give up. We'll leave the interstate highway, find a place to hide, and wait until I recover a bit."
Jessica had complete trust in Ronan, saying, "I'll follow your lead."
After they had eaten something, they got back into the car, ready to set off.
Ronan took out the Glock 26 and turned it over, handing it to Jessica. "Can you use this?"
Jessica said, "I've practiced shooting at the range."
Ronan let her take it, instructing, "Keep it in your bag, always have it on you. I'm injured."
Jessica secured the gun and said, "I will."
Ronan nodded, "Let's go!"
Jessica drove through the interstate highway intersection and headed north. She had studied the map at the hotel yesterday, and heading north would take them to the border city of Tocat.
This fourth-largest city in Southern California, similar to neighboring Mexican cities, had a relatively dense population and a somewhat chaotic order.
In the afternoon, their pickup truck entered Tocat. Jessica first found a shopping mall for Ronan to change out of his blood-stained clothes, then located a clinic for a doctor to examine his wounds.
With money paving the way, and considering it was a city near the Mexican border, things weren't as troublesome.
The doctor looked at Jessica for a moment, "You seem familiar."
With her short, dark-dyed hair, baggy clothes, and altered appearance, Jessica replied, "My husband and I often cross the border through this route."
The doctor re-dressed Ronan's wounds, "The wounds are not serious. Just be careful not to get them wet."
Ronan nodded slightly without saying a word.
His Spanish accent was different.
Jessica also bought some gauze, bandages, and medication, paid in cash, and helped Ronan out of the clinic.
They then found a hotel to check in.
Many Americans come across the border for leisure, especially seeking companionship with women. On the Mexican side, the doors are wide open. As long as the money is there, checking into a hotel doesn't require any identification.
Inside the suite, sitting in the living room, one could see the other side of the border through the window.
Barbed wire separated the two countries, much like it separated two worlds.
Jessica poured a glass of water for Ronan, "Are you going to sleep a bit? I'll keep watch. I'll call you if anything happens."
Ronan shook his head, "I'm fine."
Jessica asked, "Were those CIA people last night?"
"Didn't ask," Ronan answered simply. "One of them was quite formidable. I couldn't afford to hold back."
Having seen Ronan's injuries, Jessica could empathize. From the TV station parking lot to the villa escape, Ronan dealt with those people as if he were chopping vegetables.
Ronan thought, however, about the real existence of werewolves. Could other Western legends, like vampires, also exist in this world? He remembered reading somewhere that werewolves and vampires could live for a long time, and they were natural enemies.
He thought more carefully; perhaps the ancient one's soul fragment might be in their possession.
Ronan posed the question again, "Jessie, why is the CIA relentlessly pursuing you?"
Jessica shook her head, "I don't know."
Ronan continued, "Figuring this out might unravel the whole mystery."
"I'm puzzled too," Jessica reiterated her answer. "I've never had any dealings with them."
Ronan sighed inwardly and stopped asking.
Jessica subtly changed the subject, "Do you have any trustworthy friends? Someone as capable as you..."
Ronan understood her implication and said, "I only trust the gun in my hand."
The traitor from his original world and the only collaboration he had with law enforcement in this world had a profound impact on him.
Moreover, he had encountered so many chaotic events since arriving here; he had no time to make acquaintances.
Jessica, driven by her feminine intuition, opened her mouth but then closed it. Eventually, she couldn't resist saying, "You can trust me."
Ronan looked at Jessica and nodded slightly.
Most people were two-faced, and Ronan and Jessica were no exception.
The latter never mentioned what her father did and denied any connection to the CIA.
Ronan also harbored his own motives.
These two individuals, each with their own secrets, formed an unusual combination of a celebrity and a bodyguard.
In the following days, Ronan and Jessica stayed in Tocat City.
Ronan tended to his injuries while Jessica often checked her phone.
...
On the north side of the US-Mexico border wall was the city of Calexico.
For many Latin Americans just a wall away, this side was synonymous with paradise.
Every year, a large number of Latin descendants found various ways to enter this country.
This led to the thriving business of smuggling in the border region.
Today, Bell received a job to take a few black uncles who had smuggled over to a nearby supermarket for shopping.
In the evening, he drove and picked up four black uncles, heading straight for the nearest Kirk's Supermarket.
With language barriers on both sides, the job was straightforward. They only needed to get the people there; Bell wasn't responsible for their return journey.
Leading the people, Bell arrived at the supermarket parking lot and pointed at the brightly lit supermarket, using the simplest vocabulary to say, "There! There!"
One of the black uncles in the passenger seat grinned at him, beckoning the three companions in the backseat to get out. Together, they headed towards the supermarket.
"Damn, it's so dark!" Bell didn't dare say it directly, as it would be troublesome, but behind their backs, he muttered, "Can you even find someone when the lights are off at night?"
Turning the front of the car, ready to leave the parking lot, another car came in and occupied the exit. Bell had no choice but to wait a bit before speaking.
He looked back at the supermarket, and through the glass curtain wall, he could see four dark figures.
Those four black uncles entered the supermarket and went their separate ways.
Bell noticed that they seemed to be holding something in their hands, pressing on it.
What were they doing? These guys haven't even been to a supermarket before?
Just as Bell started having this thought, a thunderous explosion resounded, making his ears ring loudly!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Three more massive explosions followed, making Bell's head spin and leaving him dumbfounded.
"How is this possible? How is this possible?"
Cries of shock, screams, and wails echoed into a cacophony.
Bell snapped back to reality, realizing he was in trouble, and not just regular trouble.
Subconsciously, he started the car and drove out through the cleared passage, heading towards the Mexican border like a madman.
The whole city of Calexico was in chaos!
...
Tijuana, near the Pacific Ocean, was home to a small three-story building.
The sign at the entrance displayed the name of an American trading company, but in reality, it was a secret CIA office on this side.
Tom had come by plane and was immediately brought here. He spoke to his superior, Matt Graves, about the details of the previous operation.
"Alejandro arranged a job for me, being a driver waiting in the car for pickup," Tom had to tell the truth. "I had to assist Owen on the rooftop, so I parked the car behind another row of houses. Owen was shot by Ronan and fell onto my car..."
Matt Graves had an expressionless face, carefully listening to Tom's words.
Tom had been sitting in the car the whole time and hadn't seen many things. He could only recount what he had heard and what he had managed to glimpse discreetly. "I heard what seemed like Alejandro's scream. I found a window with a clear view of both sides and took a peek. Alejandro was on fire all over, and Ronan used an AK to smash his head. Then, Ronan used a pistol to blow Silva's head apart."
Matt Graves asked, "So, Alejandro was killed by Ronan in a head-on confrontation?"
Tom thought for a moment and said, "Yes."
Matt Graves stood up and paced around; this situation was troublesome.
Matt Graves was well aware of Alejandro's true identity, and that's why they had repeatedly hired him for collaboration.
In close combat, Matt was no match for Alejandro.
It seemed like he needed to change his strategy.
A few of his subordinates looked at Matt Graves, awaiting his decision.
Matt Graves had made up his mind almost immediately upon hearing the news. After confirming there were no issues in a face-to-face conversation, he said, "Judy, contact our contacts in the Mexican police force. Have them issue a warrant for Ronan's arrest, accusing him of kidnapping Princess Jessica!"
A female member said, "This will make it public and uncontrollable."
Just as she finished speaking, a mobile phone rang. Matt answered it, and after listening for a moment, his face changed dramatically. "What? Calexico has suffered a suicide bomb attack?"
After they finished speaking on the other end, Matt Graves said, "Okay! Chu Qi, I'll wait for you in Calexico."
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