As the answer came to him, Seb’s jaw tightened with grim humour. He might have known that he wouldn’t get out of going there – that somehow events would herd him to the place like a dog herding sheep. Only with the centro literally in flames would the neighbourhood of his childhood ever seem like a safe haven, so that he could even consider taking the girl he loved to it.

Willow touched his arm. “Seb, what is it? Where are you thinking of going?”

“Tepito,” he said. He took her hand; barely resisted the urge to kiss it. “Come on – I know someplace there we can go.”

Chapter Twenty-three

ALEX STOOD WITHOUT MOVING AS Willow and Seb headed across the square. Willow looked amazing in the short skirt, but he wouldn’t have been able to take his eyes off her even if she’d been wearing her usual jeans and sneakers. He watched her figure grow smaller as she and Seb neared the cathedral, her legs striding briskly in the heeled sandals.

She didn’t look back. He hadn’t really expected her to. As the two of them disappeared into the line of waiting people, he let out a breath.

“You okay?” asked Kara.

“Yeah,” said Alex shortly. For a second, he longed to go running after them; to draw Willow to one side and...what? She’d made it clear there was nothing more to say, that she cared more about her friendship with Seb than her relationship with him. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t so simple – that there were shades of grey, among the stark blacks and whites that had kept him awake, staring into the darkness, these last two nights. He felt incapable of untangling them. All he could see was Willow’s pink cheeks when he’d accused her of always thinking about Seb – the look on her face as she’d touched the sleeve of his sweater that night. He was still so in love with her that it hurt, but he had no idea where her head was any more.

Forget all of this – just forget it. He was sick of his own stupid thoughts.

“Come on,” he said to the team finally. “Let’s make a move.”

Half an hour later they were standing in front of the cathedral, listening to an angelic hymn drifting out. Behind them, someone was yelling through a megaphone about the inequity of a city that would spend money on angels, and not beds for its dying. As the crowd roared in approval, the Faithful screamed their protests, trying to get past the security guards – who looked pitiably few in number now, shouting unheeded orders at Crusaders and Faithful alike.

“Man, they’re going to lose that battle any second now,” murmured Kara, watching the guards struggle. “And when they do, that’s going to turn nasty.”