by Logan Fox
She gave a half-shrug, opened her mouth, and then closed it again as Bailey reached for her. He touched the tip of his thumb to the scar on her cheek, tracing it as it curved along her cheek bone.
So much had changed since she’d last seen him; when she’d been convinced he would be the man who’d turn her into a woman.
She began, “Listen, Bailey, there’s something you should—”
“It wasn’t me,” he cut in.
Cora stopped talking, her mouth working for a few seconds before she could find a murmured, “What wasn’t you?”
He sucked in his bottom lip, and gave her a long, hard stare. “He thinks I betrayed him, Cora. But he has—” Bailey paused, clearing his throat “—he had it wrong.”
She wanted to grab his hand, but couldn’t bear to think what would happen if he pulled away. “Papa? Why?”
“I never told anyone where you were.” Bailey shook his head and added reluctantly, “Anyone who didn’t already know.”
Ice flashed through her. She straightened her shoulders, and splayed her hands on her thighs so she wouldn’t fist them in her lap. “You work for Zachary, don’t you? You told him where I was.”
Anger illuminated Bailey’s gray eyes. He looked away, teeth teasing at the inside of his lip. He had a habit of doing that when he was worried about something. She’d seen it too often when her father didn’t come home on the nights he should have, or when the guards on the perimeter of Swan Manor radioed in with an alert. Most of the time, it was just a stray cat. Once, a mountain lion. But Bailey had always ushered her to her bedroom, checked the sealed up windows and then closed her bedroom door with a brief, hard look in her direction. As if to tell her that everything would be okay.
“No. You’ve got it wrong. Is there someplace we can talk?” Bailey rose, and glanced around again. “Somewhere private?”
“What? Why?” Frustration made her voice waver. “Tell me what’s going on!”
Bailey sank down hurriedly, lifting a finger to his mouth. “Ssh!”
“I’m sick of this,” she hissed. “Just tell me what—”
“I need you to trust me, Cora.” Bailey leaned closer. “Can you do that? Can you trust me?”
She blinked at him, taken aback by the quiet pleading in his voice. “Just tell me what’s going on, Bailey.”
A strange light played in his eyes. He dropped his gaze, pressed his lids closed, and whispered, “I work for—”
“Cora?” came a voice. “Is that you?”
Bailey’s mouth snapped closed. He widened his eyes at her, lifting his shoulders. She shrugged back at him and rose, leaning around some shrubs to see who’d called her. Neo was heading down the cobbled path—straight toward them.
“Mierda!” she whispered. She spun around, about to tell Bailey to hide.
But he was gone.
“Cora?”
She stepped out of the alcove, crossed her arms over her chest to ward off a sudden shiver, and gave Neo a prompting stare. “What?”
Neo walked past her and glanced into the alcove, frowning back at her. “Who were you talking to?”
“Me? Uh…” Cora glanced around until her gaze touched against Santa Muerte’s statue. She pointed out the statue. “I was praying.”
Neo gave a half shrug, and turned to face her. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
“Well, now you found me,” she said in a tight voice.
Where had Bailey disappeared to? Where the hell had he come from? Where had he been all this time? Why had her father suspected him of betraying her? A thousand questions roiled in her mind, all just as important as the rest.
How did he find me?
“So?” Neo snapped.
“So what?” Her voice was as hard as his.
“Tell me what the hell you’ve decided.”
At first, her mind was too muddled for her to understand what he was asking. When she realized, she rolled her eyes at him. “Holy shit, that was like an hour ago.”
“Several hours ago,” Neo said, his jaw bunching. “This is serious shit, Cora. This isn’t the time for you to be—” he waved a hand around him, looking lost for words “—hanging around in the garden.”
“I was praying,” she said through her teeth. “La Flaca helps me figure out what to do.”
Neo snorted and glanced up at the statue. “This thing is ugly as sin. I don’t know why my dad had it put up.”
“We can talk tomorrow.” Cora turned on her heel and headed for her room, ignoring Neo’s bleated protest.
“You’d better have an answer,” Neo called after her.
In reply, she threw him the finger over her shoulder.
Hopefully, Bailey could make out where she was going. She had no idea if her room was a safer place to talk—for all she knew, Javier had bugged the place—but it was better than the garden where annoying capos could ambush her.
Her footsteps echoed on the stairs, but no second pair followed. She paused outside her bedroom door for a few seconds, pretending to struggle with the handle, and then went inside. She perched on the edge of the settee, smoothed her hands down her thighs, and then shot up hurriedly. This had been where she and Lars had almost screwed, before Finn had burst through the door and thrown him against the wall. Her cheeks flushed with that memory, and she pressed the backs of her hands against her face.
Her bedroom door opened. Bailey sidled inside, glancing through the crack as he carefully pressed the door closed, and then turned to face her with a grim expression on his face.
“Who?” she asked, taking her hands away. Her voice was surprisingly steady, but lower than she’d anticipated. “Who are you working for?”
Bailey remained silent, and then strode toward her. But, instead of joining her on the settee, he sat on the edge of the coffee table. Thankfully; she’d probably have blushed even deeper if he’d sat in Finn’s armchair. He opened his mouth, but then everything slotted together in her mind like a carefully crafted puzzle game.
Bailey had gotten into a compound so secure, she was still trying to figure out how to escape it. He’d known where she was headed, and the only person who wasn’t at the manor that night who knew had been…
A shock wave went through her. “Javier,” she repeated quietly. “You work for Javier.”
“Hold on, Cora. There’s something you have to understand—”
But her slap cut him off. She shot to her feet, fumbling in the small of her back for her Taurus.
Bailey knocked the weapon from her hand with a casual flick of his. She opened her mouth to scream, but he slapped that same hand over her mouth and pressed her into the settee. His weight settled on her, trapping her despite how she squirmed.
“Shh,” he murmured. “Just listen.”
She struggled furiously, managed to get a scratch down the side of his face, but then his other hand was around her throat. Strangling her.
She’d been such a goddamn idiot. Bailey had been the perfect spy. He’d always known where her father would be. Papa had shared information with him that not even his lieutenants had known. And he’d probably sent everything directly to Javier. How long had El Guapo been planning this? Getting her here, marrying her off to his son, stealing every single penny her father had ever earned? But, soon, her concern with betrayal was swiftly replaced with a concern for getting air into her lungs. She stopped fighting, lifting her hands away from Bailey and holding them up. Surrendering, if only so she wouldn’t pass out and be completely incapable of preventing whatever the man had in mind.
He was older than her by at least twelve years. The first few weeks after her father had appointed him as her bodyguard, she’d been as sulky as any ten-year-old could be about a man smelling of leather and gun oil following her around twenty-four-seven.
Sometimes, he wouldn’t follow her into her room; but those were rare occasions. She’d yelled at him, thrown things at him. And he’d endured everything with a tiny quirk to his lips as if he could
weather any damn thing that came his way.
And that’s exactly what he’d done.
She’d gotten used to him over the passing years, had sometimes even forgotten he was around. When she would cry after having a fight with her father, he would stand in the doorway; not moving, not doing anything. But a few minutes later, a bowl of pistachio ice cream would arrive and he’d set it on her nightstand, and then guard the entrance to her room. Sometimes, she’d let the ice cream melt. Other times, she’d eat it, glancing up at his back and wondering if he was being kind or if he just pitied her.
“Are you listening?” he whispered, gray eyes wide and fervent.
She pressed her eyes closed, trying to nod.
As if satisfied that she’d hear him without gouging out his eyes, Bailey carefully released the pressure on her throat.
She drew air, coughed, and wrapped her fingers around her throat as she tried to get out from under him. He wasn’t as large as Finn, but he was still bigger than she was. Stronger. He had, after all, been the one to teach her Krav Maga.
“I was clean when your father hired me,” Bailey said. “Just a guy trying to earn a living.”
“And then?” she couldn’t help a sneer tugging at her mouth. “Javier paid you more money?”
“He threatened my family,” Bailey murmured.
Could she really be angry with him? She knew she wouldn’t sit idly by if someone threatened Finn or Lars. So how could she expect Bailey to?
“You could have left. You could have gone to work somewhere—”
“No, Cora,” Bailey interrupted with a mutter. “My options were limited to one: watch the Swan family and report back everything to him. That, or he would kill my parents, my sisters…” He sighed, and slowly climbed off her. He rubbed the back of his neck, and took a few steps back. “But that’s not why I’m here.”
She cocked her head to the side. “Then why? Why are you here?”
“Gabriella made contact with me about a year ago,” Bailey said quietly. “I’ve been working for her too.”
Her shocked expression must have prompted the flow of words that came next.
“She found something. A message, an email, I don’t know. Something linking me with Javier. So she contacted me. Paid me double what Javier was paying to find out why he was so interested in Tony and his family.”
Her laugh was acidic as she pushed herself up and tugged her clothes straight. “And you expect me to trust you? Why the hell should I do that when you obviously have no issue with betraying people?”
Bailey looked away. “I agreed to that before…before we…”
She crossed her arms over her chest to ward off a sudden tremor. It didn’t help, of course; that chill wasn’t coming from the room’s air conditioning, but from the coldness in Bailey’s voice. When he glanced up at her again, his eyes were the color of melting ice.
“That was before I knew you, Cora,” Bailey said. He came to his knees in front of the settee, gaze imploring her.
“You were by my side for twelve years. How long did you need?”
“Leave the past where it belongs.” Bailey took hold of her upper arms. “Please. That’s not why I’m here.” Bailey shook his head, then gave her a gentle shake as if he wanted to wring the truth into her. “I wasn’t the first. Javier’s been watching you since you were born.”
Something cold squeezed at her heart, and for a moment it felt like he had fingers around her throat again.
“The faster you tell me, the faster you can leave,” Cora snapped.
Bailey’s eyes burned at that, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he pushed back his shoulders, inhaled deep, and said, “Javier was the one who sent your father that death threat.”
“You’re wrong. It was a rival cartel,” she said, injecting as much venom into her voice as possible.
Bailey shook his head, mouth a thin, hard line. “I delivered it, Cora.” He squeezed her arms. “Me. Javier gave it to me to give to Tony.”
She leaned back from him, but he tugged her back with a yank of his hands. Her heart had frozen in her chest, as had her breath. There was a whine in her ears like she was losing consciousness as Bailey’s lips parted again. She didn’t want to hear. She didn’t want to know.
But Bailey told her anyway.
“Javier wanted your father on the run. If you say Zachary West killed Tony, then it had to be because Javier drove him straight into the line of fire.” Bailey gave his head a hard shake, his mouth thinning into a grim line. “Javier’s dead set on turning the cartel into an international drug ring. But Tony didn’t want to know anything about it. I guess it was just easier for Javier to get your father out of the picture.”
“But…what…what does he need me for then?” Cora said, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. “He can do whatever he wants now. I don’t want to be part of this.” Tears burned hot in her eyes, but she forced them back with a hard blink. “I won’t fight him. He can have it all.”
“Don’t you get it?” His lips pulled into an incredulous sneer. “You’re his patsy. If something goes wrong, you’ll get thrown to the wolves.
“The…” Cora managed.
Bailey shrugged. “A rival cartel, the DEA, the FBI…” His eyes glittered with a resounding hatred. “Does it matter? Something goes down, he makes himself scarce while they tear you apart.”
31
Too far back
Finn waited for Lars to beckon him before he joined him on the roof. They strode to the furthest point from the stairs, Finn a foot away from the glass wall that fenced the roof’s perimeter. Lars glanced around and took out the binoculars he’d stashed away under his jacket.
It seemed lunch had come and gone; there was but one lone sicario outside on the patio, having a smoke as he stared out over Javier’s land. Clouds had drawn over the sun, turning a bright day into a dull afternoon. Not enough for rain, but enough that the day’s heat fled sooner than it should have.
Time kept slipping away; it had taken them forever to hunt down a pair of binoculars. They’d eventually found some in the library—a massive, double-story room that smelled of furniture polish, old books, and—for some reason—Cora.
There was also a telescope, an ancient world globe, and books inside display cases that were probably mint first-editions of something that cost a few million each.
Lars had been salivating to take a closer look at them, but Finn had dragged him out of there before they could lose any more time.
He wanted to be out of here as soon as possible, if not sooner.
“Watch the door, would you?” Lars said as he put the binoculars to his eyes. Finn turned, scanning the bar and the top of the stairs in case someone decided they wanted to take a dip in the jacuzzi or, like them, admire the view.
“Rocks…more rocks…” Lars mused. “Oh, there’s a tree. No…no, sorry, just another rock.”
“Where’s the perimeter?” Finn stepped closer, about to take the binoculars from Lars if he decided to clown around a second longer.
“Fuck far away,” Lars said. “I’d say fourteen point five miles. Give or take a yard or so.”
“What? Jesus.” And then Finn did take the binoculars from him, if only so he could prove the man wrong.
But those sniper eyes were impeccable at calculating distance. He let the binoculars fall to his side, and drew a deep breath.
Lars clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Soo…unless we’re taking some camping gear with? Looks like we ain’t riding out of here any time soon.”
Finn turned to him, studying Lars for a few seconds while the man held his gaze. “I’m sorry,” he said.
Lars frowned. “Elaborate,” he said, drawing out the word as a smug smile spread his lips.
“Don’t make this harder than it already is,” he said through a clenched jaw.
Lars let out a soft laugh. “Well, go on.”
“I’m sorry I got you into this fucked up mess.”
His friend f
rowned. “That’s what you’re sorry about?”
“Yes,” Finn said. “What—?”
“What about calling me a coward? You’re not sorry about that?” Lars crossed his arms over his chest and leaned his hip against the glass fence.
He looked away. “I was angry.”
“So you were lying?”
“You think I like this?” His voice became louder, and he hurriedly lowered it. “You think I enjoy this pain?” He thumped a fist against his heart. “It fucking hurts, you piece of shit. I’m just trying to get it to stop.”
“Stop?” Lars laughed through the word. “Ain’t no stopping love, Milo,” he said bitterly. “Why the hell do you think I avoid it like the plague? No one wants to feel like their fucking heart’s been ripped out.”
“I didn’t want this,” Finn said. “It just…it just fucking happened.”
“Yeah…Cora and her golden vagina.”
He swung to Lars, but his friend hurriedly lifted his hands. “Hey, been there, done that. Literally. She’s a good fuck, but I honestly don’t know what all the fuss is about.”
He turned away and let out a soft, rueful laugh as he gripped the railing. “She’s just a side piece for you?”
“Everyone’s a side piece for me,” Lars said, taking a step closer to him. “Even you, big guy.” He lifted his hands. “Sorry, not sorry.”
Finn turned his head just enough to see Lars from the corners of his eyes. “If you didn’t feel something for her, you’d have been long gone already.”
“Yeah?” Lars gave him a wide grin. “I somehow develop super powers? ‘Cos here we are, both trying to figure out how to get the fuck out of here, and you’re saying I can just leave?”
“Before this,” Finn said. “Before things got so fucked up.”
Lars shrugged, squinting as he turned his gaze to the distant horizon. “Then I should have left before I met you.”
He turned to Lars, his body feeling strangely resistant to movement. Lars glanced at him, tightened the grip around his chest, and then sighed as he let his arms slip down to either side. The man bent at the waist, resting his wrists on the railing as he stared out over the villa. “I’ve never apologized for letting them take you,” Lars murmured.
