From Evil: Books 4-6

by Pam Godwin

  “He hasn’t put anything on me.” She rolled her shoulders forward so the material would hang more loosely across her breasts. “We have to go back for him, Cole.”

  He narrowed his eyes and waved that device right over her breasts until it sounded a low beep.

  Her molars crashed together.

  “You have piercings.” He removed a tiny flashlight from his pocket. “I need to see them.”

  “I’m not removing them.” She hardened her voice. “Take me back to the island.”

  “Not going back, Kate.” He pinched the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “You can take out the piercings or leave them in. I don’t give a fuck. I just need to see if there’s a tracker on them.”

  “The thing beeped, so you already know.”

  “It detected metal. You’ll get the same response when you go through an X-ray machine at the airport.”

  “Oh.” She released a breath.

  If he needed to see them, he would have to do it while they stayed in.

  Without removing Tiago’s tuxedo coat, she wriggled the straps of the dress down her arms. When her breasts hit the warm air, he powered on the flashlight and angled the beam on the glimmering red stones.

  “The fuck?” He leaned in, eyes bulging as he stared at the jewelry. “It can’t be.”

  “What?”

  “Did he tell you what these stones are?”

  “Uh… Pawneets… Or no, it was pennet…”

  “Painites.”

  “Yes. Painites. Why?”

  He barked out a strangled laugh and sat back on his heels. “That son of a bitch.”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shook his head and gripped the back of his neck, his eyes fixed on the piercings, as if he couldn’t believe they were real.

  “Did you find a tracker?” She straightened, startled by his strange reaction.

  “No. The barbells are too small. It’s not that. It’s just…” He scrubbed a hand down his face. “You can fix your dress.”

  Tiago hadn’t put a tracker on her?

  Her breath stuttered as she put the gown back in order. “Is it the stones?”

  “Yeah, Kate. Those fucking stones…” He shifted to the seat across from her and rested his elbows on his knees. “Painites are one of the rarest gemstones on the planet. Extremely valuable. But that’s not important. It’s…”

  Something thundered in the distance, a clap-clap-clap whir of noise that grew louder, closer. In the next breath, she recognized the sound. A helicopter was coming.

  “That’s your ride. Listen…” Cole ran the device along the rest of her body as he spoke. “There’s a rumor going around in the criminal underground that Tiago Badell sold his entire syndicate to some unknown investor in exchange for…” A swallow jogged in his throat. “Four rare painite stones.”

  “What?” Her face chilled, and she pressed a hand over one of the piercings.

  “That sort of hearsay runs rampant in his world, usually conceived as a means of subterfuge and rarely accurate. I didn’t even bother fact checking it. But the evidence…” He glanced at her chest and cleared his throat. “Jesus, Kate. If those gemstones are real…”

  “He wouldn’t give me fake gems and call them real. Not his style.”

  Cole nodded, his voice stunned. “You’re wearing the last twelve years of his life. His entire goddamn livelihood.”

  “What does that mean?” Tears welled in her eyes as the whomping sound of the helicopter sped closer. “Did he give up his organization?”

  “It appears so.”

  “But he gave the stones to me a month ago, and he’s been going to the compound every day, conducting meetings with all his men.”

  “Meetings about what?”

  “I don’t know. They’re always in Spanish.”

  “He was probably transitioning everything. Or dissolving operations.”

  “Oh my God.” She jumped from the seat, rocking unsteadily as waves slapped at the boat. “Take me back. I need to go back!”

  The helicopter swept in above her, swallowing her voice and enveloping her in a mist of ocean water. She covered her ears against the god-awful noise, unable to make out its silhouette against the night sky.

  No way would she agree to board that thing. How would it even work?

  She turned back to Cole and shouted over the wind, “Take me back!”

  He gripped her face, catching the hair whipping around her. “I’ll go back. I’ll find him.”

  His words didn’t reach her ears, but she read them on his lips and saw the promise in his dark eyes.

  “I’ll go with you.”

  He shook his head and pointed behind her. “Go.”

  Steel arms encircled her from behind, and she turned, falling into the warm, familiar eyes of one of her roommates. “Martin!”

  A tether ran from his harness to the helicopter. Evidently, he’d been lowered on some kind of pulley system.

  Her chest squeezed as she absorbed the worried expression on his handsome face. Damn, she’d missed him, and the roar of the wind made it impossible to tell him as much.

  A gust smacked her sideways, and she braced her legs to remain upright. Cole held her in place as Martin quickly attached a belt around her hips, between her legs, and secured the contraption to his. Then he shined a flashlight into the darkness overhead.

  The harness pulled tight and his arms even tighter as they were lifted into the air. The blades beat the wind against them like a hurricane.

  With her heart in her stomach, she stared down at Cole and demanded with her eyes. Find him.

  He stared back with a silent vow tensing his face.

  Digging her hands into Martin’s shoulders, she held her breath and closed her eyes. She had to trust Cole to go back to the island, but it left her feeling completely useless and terrified as that boat sank farther away from her feet.

  When they reached the helicopter, hands grabbed, and arms pulled, until she was lying on her back and safely inside the aircraft.

  Familiar faces filled her view. Smiles. Cheering roars. Even a few wet eyes.

  “Kate!” Camila tackled her as soon as she was disconnected from Martin. “Fucking shit, girl! You’ve given me a dozen heart attacks.”

  Matias nodded at her from the cockpit. She caught a glimpse of Luke’s red hair, before Ricky hauled her into the seat beside him and strapped her in. Martin plopped down on her other side, and the helicopter’s nose dipped as it raced into the night.

  The blaring noise from the blades made conversation difficult, but she felt their relief and happiness pouring off them. Four of her old roommates had shown up for her rescue—Martin, Camila, Ricky, and Luke—and she suspected Tomas and others were waiting at Matias’ Colombian estate.

  After being gone for four months, it was surreal to be sitting here with them. A consuming, head-spinning kind of surreal that crashed in with a flood of pain.

  Her eyes burned with that achy feeling that always came right before she cried. She tried to hold back the tears, but they were persistent and full of so many conflicting emotions—gratitude, fear, joy, desolation, and hope.

  She was finally free, and it hurt to the depths of her soul.

  The one thing that mattered most in her freedom was missing.

  She needed Tiago.

  Whether he joined her in her freedom or took it away, she just needed them to experience whatever came next together.

  CHAPTER 32

  Eight people have been arrested after Saturday’s apparent assassination attempt on the President of Venezuela. The President survived the ambush after several drones dropped explosives on his dinner party at a private residence, an attack he blamed on opposition activists and Colombia’s president. Thirty-seven people are confirmed dead. Twelve others are still missing.

  Kate powered off the TV and stared at the blank screen, her voice brittle with pain. “Tiago’s alive.”

  A throat cleared. Feet shuffled. Someone sighed.


  Sitting in one of the many living rooms at Matias’ Colombian estate, she was surrounded by her friends. All of them. Liv and Josh, Van and Amber, Camila and Matias, Tate and Lucia, her roommates—everyone was here, seeking refuge within the cartel’s stronghold while awaiting the verdict on Tiago Badell.

  No one trusted him, and maybe that was smart. As long as she was separated from him, they weren’t safe.

  Cole Hartman had returned to the island as promised, but after a night of searching for Tiago and Arturo, he came up empty.

  The next day, he went to Tiago’s penthouse and slipped past the building’s supposed impenetrable security. Everything was still there, but the entire staff had vanished, including Boones.

  That was four days ago.

  He hadn’t been able to confirm the list of casualties on the island. The President had buried that information. No surprise. Most of the names at the party belonged to the sort of unsavory people no president should be associated with.

  Cole assured her he would learn who died and who was missing, but it would take time.

  Didn’t matter. She already decided Tiago was alive. She just needed to figure out how to find him. That was the tricky part.

  Tiago had enemies, and now they knew who she was and what she meant to him. The moment she stepped outside of Matias’ fortress, they would find her.

  It didn’t dissuade her. She had powerful friends, and they were extremely protective of her.

  Except that was the problem. Her friends were too protective.

  When she’d asked Matias for a security team to accompany her to Venezuela, he refused. Then he threatened to lock her in a cell if she tried to leave. Her roommates supported that threat.

  When she’d asked Cole to somehow get a message to Tiago in the criminal underground, that request was refused, as well. Cole said it would end up in the wrong hands and only put her in more danger.

  But Cole kept a diligent watch on Caracas, and he’d been able to confirm one thing.

  Tiago was no longer associated with his organization.

  Smuggling routes had been dismantled. Rival gangs had moved in. There was even a new leader running what was left of his compound.

  He’d given it all up. Forfeited his livelihood. Surrendered his protection.

  For the four gemstones he’d attached to her nipples.

  The man had a filthy dark sense of chivalry.

  “We need to consider the possibility he’ll never resurface.” Tate paced to the window and stared out at the moonlit landscape of the rain forest. “We can’t hide here forever.”

  “He won’t harm you,” Kate murmured.

  Tate pivoted and tilted his head to the side, regarding her. “Have you seen my back, Kate?”

  “Yes.” She glided a hand over her thigh, seeking comfort in the scars that lay beneath her borrowed jeans. “He and I made a deal. He promised me he would never hurt you again.”

  “His promises mean nothing to me.”

  Her chest was empty, drained of tears and breath. It felt as though she’d left her insides in that fire. Everything under her skin was simply gone. Except the hum of determination. That was still there, rising up from the chasm where her soul once lived, where he used to be.

  “He’s alive, and I’ll find him.” She met Tate’s eyes. “Unless he finds me first.”

  He pressed his lips together, biting back a retort.

  Every hour that passed reinforced her belief that Tiago was alive. That meant she wasn’t the only one hurting. He had vulnerabilities that could only be comforted and healed by her. He needed her, missed her, feared for her as much as she did for him. They were two halves of a whole.

  Since arriving here, she’d heard the term Stockholm syndrome from every mouth in every conversation. It didn’t upset her or make her defensive. Because honestly, how many times had she thrown those very words at Tiago?

  How sad that she had to lose him in order to see what had been right in front of her all along.

  She knew what she felt was love—not coercion, not lust, not Stockholm syndrome—because it had become an artery that ran through the deepest part of her heart. She felt it beating and knew if she severed it, she would bleed out. She wouldn’t survive.

  The night she reunited with Tate, she sat down with him and explained this. Since he was so utterly wrapped up in Lucia, he understood the madness that came with love. He couldn’t fully comprehend her position with regard to Tiago, but he listened. He was trying.

  Then she had a heart-to-heart with everyone else, individually, paired off with couples, and together as a group. It’d been four days of discussing, soul-searching, and analyzing until her emotional shields were eradicated and there was nowhere to hide from their hard questions.

  It felt like a form of group therapy. She endured it because she appreciated their life experiences, valued their opinions, and trusted their intentions.

  Josh and Amber related to her the most. They’d both fallen in love with their captors, so they understood her on the darkest, most vulnerable level. Their journeys hadn’t been pretty, and look at them now. They fucking glowed with happiness.

  There was comfort in that. Validation. Hope.

  So here they all were, the whole gang sitting together in Matias’ estate, talking, monitoring the news, and waiting. Because the man she loved was missing, and that made him a threat to everyone.

  On the bright side, she had her friends back. Thanks to Van Quiso, they shared a remarkable bond, one born in shackles and strengthened in survival.

  For the rest of the night, they lounged around in the living room, pouring drinks, sharing stories, enjoying one another’s company, and musing about the future.

  She didn’t know what the future held for her, but she never saw herself as a vigilante warrior. Not like them.

  She told them she wanted to heal people, and maybe someday, she would become the Freedom Fighters’ resident doctor.

  A doctor like Boones.

  If she located the old man, she would find Tiago.

  Maybe Boones had returned to his brothers in his home village? She didn’t know where that was, but through her observations, she’d collected four months of clues, including the unique sounds of his native language.

  A plan started to form, thrumming through her blood and bouncing her leg.

  “I’m going to head to bed.” She rose, said her good-nights, and strolled through the maze of corridors in the sprawling, contemporary estate.

  Verandas and scenic breezeways led her to her suite. The fortress reminded her of an all-inclusive resort, equipped with every amenity. Commercial kitchens, dining rooms filled with dozens of tables, Olympic-sized pool, and full-service staff… With all the surrounding luxury, she could almost overlook the scary, heavily-armed cartel members who roamed the halls.

  When she stepped inside her room, the tread of approaching footsteps sounded behind her.

  “Hey, Kate.” Martin caught the door before it closed. “Can I come in?”

  “Like you have to ask.” She strode past the bed, lowered into the armchair, and pulled Tiago’s tuxedo coat over her lap, instantly finding solace in the crisp feel of the fabric. “Want a drink?”

  Every suite had a fully-stocked wet bar, laptop, sitting area, and private bathroom.

  “Nah. Just wanted to check on you.” He sprawled on the loveseat beside her.

  She grew up with three older brothers, and none of them had been even a fraction as protective as her five alpha roommates.

  As he stared at her, a glint of aggression hardened his green eyes before melting away into the shadows of his handsome face.

  His model-like features, perfectly-combed blond hair, and muscular build fit the requisite mold of beauty and seduction. They all had that in common.

  Over a span of seven years, Van and Liv had captured six beautiful men and two women. Plucked out of the ghettos along the Mexican border, Kate and the others didn’t have families who would
miss them.

  Joshua Carter was the exception, the one who shattered Liv’s façade and brought down the entire sex trafficking operation.

  Martin had been slave number five. He was also the pack leader among her male roommates.

  “You sleep with that thing?” He nodded at the tuxedo coat.

  “Maybe.” She pulled it up to her nose and inhaled the scent of fire and masculinity from the collar.

  “You’re a fucking mess.”

  “You should talk. How’s Ricky?”

  His jaw set. “I’m not touching that conversation.”

  She loved to pester him about the sexual tension that vibrated between him and his best friend. Ricky was openly bisexual, flirtatious as hell, and had a very obvious, soul-deep crush on Martin.

  Martin, on the other hand, grunted and growled like a homophobic every time she mentioned the attraction. He claimed to be straight and banged a different woman every night. But there was so much more going on beneath the surface. He carried a freight load of baggage, most of which had compounded during his captivity with Van.

  Everyone knew he wanted to fuck Ricky’s brains out. He just hadn’t come to terms with it.

  “How are you doing with Van?” she asked. “Is it still hard for you to be around him?”

  “If I ever get him alone, I’m going to take him for a ride in the country.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “It’s what my dad used to say. Whenever one of our old dogs needed to be put down, he’d load up the dog in the truck, drive to an isolated field, and shoot it.” A dark smirk twisted his lips. “It’s time for a ride in the country.”

  “Please, don’t.” Her stomach caved in.

  “You’re telling me you’ve forgiven him?”

  “No.” She nodded. “Maybe. I don’t know. Being around him isn’t as hard as it used to be. He doesn’t scare me.”

  There was a bigger, meaner, much more terrifying man in the world, and goddammit, she missed his brutal mouth.

  “That’s good, Kate. It’s great.” He pushed up from his sprawl and leaned forward to grip her hand. “You’re a fucking fighter, you know that?”

  “Can’t shoot a gun or throw a fist to save my life.” She laughed.