by Logan Fox
The ruby engagement ring on her finger caught the light. A shudder raced through her, and she pushed Ana out of the way so she could rush to the bathroom.
“Oh,” Ana breathed with relief. “That’s it. Better in than out.”
But she wasn’t going to get sick. She was getting off this ring if it meant she had to dismember her fucking finger to do it. And then she was going to find out where the hell Finn and Lars were.
She used the soap dispenser to drench her skin with lemony hand wash, and began tugging at the ring.
Ana came in behind her. “What are you—”
And then Ana had hold of her wrist, trying to drag her hands apart. “You’re hurting yourself!”
The hand wash had turned pink.
“I don’t care! I want it off!”
“Cora. Cora!”
She spun around to face Ana. The woman couldn’t have been more than five years older than her, but in that moment she looked fifty. “What’s the use of fighting it?” she murmured with a gentle shrug. “You’re just exhausting yourself.”
Emotions that she’d held suppressed for weeks flooded into her. Cora’s legs gave out as a sob wracked at her shoulders. She slid to the floor, elbows on her knees and the heels of her sticky palms pressed against her eyes. Ana tugged her hands away, but the hand wash had already begun stinging her eyes. The woman wiped her face with a dish cloth, seeming oblivious to her sobs, and then sat on the floor beside her.
Ana drew her into a hug and began rocking her, smoothing down her hair as she gave in.
54
A pair of horses and a step ladder
Dawn hadn’t broken yet, but Finn knew every horse in the stable was awake when his flashlight glinted off their wet eyes in the dark. He pointed the light at the hay-scattered floor, and beckoned Lars inside.
The sweet smell of hay and horses filled the air in here. As did the heat of the bodies of ten large thoroughbreds.
“Jesus,” Lars muttered as he came up behind him. “It fucking stinks in here.”
“You never been in a stable before?” Finn muttered. The smell took him back to his uncle’s horse farm. The stable had smelled stronger than this one; Javier kept his stable pristine compared with his uncle’s.
“Not sober,” Lars said. “But Christ, I must have been real fucking drunk not to remember this stench.”
They moved through the aisle down the middle of the stalls, shining the flashlight under over the stall door as he did a quick scan of each horse. He was looking for the mildest ride he could find; Lars would be hard pressed to stay in his saddle with anything more excitable than a donkey.
He found a meek looking mare in the back, and a gelding that might have been the only horse attempting to sleep despite the stable’s midnight guests.
As soon as he’d saddled them, he led them out of their stalls.
“Check outside before you open the doors. Make sure no one’s out there.”
“Clever thinking, Milo,” Lars muttered sarcastically as he strode past him. The man slipped outside, and then peeked in a few seconds later with a wave for Finn to follow. The barn door creaked in warning when it was about halfway open, so Finn had to urge the horses through the narrow gap and hope they didn’t balk.
They didn’t; it seemed he’d managed to find the most broken animals in there.
Fuck, everyone he knew was broken in some way or another.
They only mounted the horses when they were well out of sight of the distant villa. Although there were a few lamp poles scattered around the stables and down the path that led to the villa, there were enough pools of darkness that Finn doubted anyone had spotted them. It was risky as shit riding the horses like this, but they’d be able to turn on their flashlights as soon as they were out of sight of the main villa.
He was about to mount his gelding when Lars whispered, “You sure about this?”
Finn pressed his eyes closed, and turned to Lars. The man was nothing more than a pale smudge in the dark.
“You said you were in,” he murmured.
“No…” Lars shook his head emphatically. “I said this might actually work, and that was only because it didn’t seem that Javier even noticed we were gone.”
“Or Cora.”
Lars flinched at that, but didn’t argue. They’d snuck out of the villa two hours after Cora had left with Gabriella for their shopping spree. By the time night had fallen, there hadn’t been a whisper of them on the radio.
Then again, eighty percent of it had been in Spanish. But they hadn’t heard their names once, and surely they would have. They heard a lot about Gabriella, but nothing that sounded as if anyone had noticed they’d left.
Lars turned to his horse and began fumbling with the stirrups. “This thing come with a stepladder or something?”
Shit, were they even going to make it a mile? Lars claimed he knew how to ride, but—
A flashlight eviscerated the dark. Finn instinctively squeezed his eyes shut to preserve his night vision, dropping to a crouch as he ripped his pistol from his holster.
“What the hell are you doing?” a voice demanded from behind that beaming light.
“Jesus, you?” Lars snapped.
It took Finn a moment to register who it was.
Neo.
“Put that light out!” he hissed.
“Fuck you.” Neo’s shoes crunched over dry grass as he came closer. “I said, what the fuck are you doing?”
“Actually,” Lars said, stepping in front of the light, “It was more like, what the hell are you doing?”
With the light blocked, Finn could open his eyes and maneuver around his horse to try and blind side Neo. The light illuminated the front of Neo’s body, turning the man’s twisted sneer into a white-washed mask.
Finn crept closer, keeping his eyes fixed on the darkness behind Neo.
He trained his pistol on the man’s chest, and slowly took aim.
A gun cocked right beside his ear. “Get up,” came a casual, Spanish-accented voice.
Finn gritted his teeth, but the man wasn’t standing close enough for him to disarm, and yet too close for him to try and twist out of range.
He rose reluctantly, catching the disappointed set of Lars’s mouth as a rough shove forced him into Neo’s circle of light.
“I thought you two were supposed to be figuring out how to get me out of here.” Neo pointed at the horses. “Looks like you’re running.”
“What makes you think we give a shit about you?” Lars said, dropping his hands.
Neo swung the gun to him. “Up!”
“Your money or your life?” Lars suggested, crossing his hands over his chest. “’Fraid I’m all out of cash, buddy.”
“Cora said you were working on a plan,” Neo said. He gestured at the horses again. “Is this it? You planning on riding us out of here?”
Finn stepped forward, hand raised. “What’s this ‘us’?”
Neo snarled at them. “She fucking lied to me,” he muttered. “That fucking bitch fucking lied to me.”
Finn surged forward, ready to pound Neo’s face until it had lost its shape, but the clicks of two men aiming and cocking their weapons drew him up short. He lifted his hands and took a slow step back until he was in line with Lars again.
“How about we go see Cora?” Neo said, gesturing with his pistol for them to start walking. “I’m sure Sleeping Beauty would love to know what you two were up to as much as I would.”
Neo’s rooms were more their own apartment than just another bedroom in the villa. Compared with Cora’s, they were three times the size. Perhaps there was too much space, because Neo had decided to fill one corner of the room with a sports car.
The rest of the place looked more like a teenager’s room than that of a young man’s. Framed posters of soccer players—all signed—hung on the walls. The decor was full of bright, clashing colors.
Finn was surprised his bed didn’t look like a car, or a spaceship.
> Everything was exaggerated—from the too large desk where a computer sat that looked as if it had never been turned on. A flat screen television bolted to the wall opposite the bed, as wide as the king size bed.
Neo had them in the living area, on the sofas positioned in front of the television. One of his men stayed behind to watch over them, his AK held casually in his hands as he took position by the door.
It was still dark out, but Neo’s bed looked as if it hadn’t even been slept in, and his guards as fresh as if they’d just started their shifts.
Did anyone in this family ever fucking sleep?
He could feel their past day’s outing weighing on him. They’d constantly moved around, keeping out of sight, trying to determine if their disappearance had caused a stir without making their presence known.
“You watch them,” Neo said to the man standing by the door. “They so much as move, shoot them.”
“Gonna be impossible for us to help you if we’re dead,” Lars said through a yawn.
Which, inevitably, made Finn yawn.
“Shut up!” Neo stabbed a finger toward him. Then he twisted his wrist, reading the time off an obnoxiously expensive sports watch. “Close enough,” he muttered. He glared at them. “I’m bringing Cora here. Then we’ll find out which of you has been lying to me.”
The door slammed behind Neo.
Lars yawned again, and kicked off his shoes. The guard at the door shifted, throwing him a wary look. He waved at him. “Relax, bonzo. I’m taking a nap.”
“Lars, we should—”
“Keep our strength up,” Lars cut in. “Suggest you do the same.”
Finn watched as Lars sprawled across the sofa, tucked a throw pillow under his head, and promptly fell asleep.
“Can I get some coffee?”
The small sneer the guard gave him could probably be construed as a ‘No.’
Finn looked across at Lars again.
They’d been so close. But, again, they’d been unable to escape this villa’s gravitational pull.
Or was it Cora that kept drawing him back, either through conscious effort or through mysterious twists of fate?
It had been too impulsive, their failed escape. They’d both been too emotional, too hotheaded to have thought it out clearly enough. Neo had had one of his men take the horses back inside, and pack out their supplies. But still…word might reach Javier about what they’d attempted.
What would his retribution be?
And he still couldn’t figure out if Lars had been on board or not. Yes, it had been the man’s idea in the first place for them to head out and not to look back…but it had come from a place of anger. Later, he’d sounded more and more hesitant about their chances of success.
Which had made Finn feel like they were making a mistake.
Had they directly contributed to their failure?
Neo had never said why he’d been out there in the small hours of the morning. So what had tipped him off? Or was it just a case of wrong place, wrong time?
Finn’s mind went blank. His eyes kept growing heavier. If he could stand, walk around, get a cup of coffee…
Instead, he fell asleep gazing at Neo’s impractically parked sports car, wondering why the fuck anyone would own something so fucking useless.
55
Bird of Prey
He was almost glad he’d been suspended. Kane stared down at his cellphone, watching the high definition video stream relayed by his drone. The drone was out of sight by now—the thing had a marvelous range—but it was as if he sat perched on top of the small device, flying with it as it zoomed across the land.
His tracker had given him a rough estimation of the silver SUV’s final destination. It had been parked for a full three minutes before he’d lost signal—undoubtedly, whoever had discovered it would have disposed of it.
But the damage had been done. He had GPS co-ordinates and a drone to check them out with; no need for him to go in blind. He’d be able to scope out the extent of this property and establish whether or not he’d have to call for backup.
With this kind of evidence in hand, the captain would have to reinstate him to active duty.
A wall sprang into view. He maneuvered the drone and began tracing it. He’d parked in a disused side road a few miles from where the GPS co-ordinates were located. From where he sat in his Jeep, he couldn’t see anything except open land and blue skies. Yesterday’s rain had cleared up overnight, leaving the day bright and full of promise.
The drone had a battery life of three hours, so he still had more than enough time to turn it around if he needed. But he was already getting a sense that this plot of land was vast to the point of seeming unending.
Minutes later, the wall tapered off to a tall fence.
The land here was so rugged, he doubted it was near to where the owners had built anything. So he headed inward aiming for the suggestion of buildings on a very watery, very wavery horizon.
He slowed the drone as soon as he could make out a human structure. He went lower, dodging around a rocky hill, and let the drone drift in the air as he stared at his cellphone screen.
A nursery? Those structures looked like agricultural scale greenhouses—strips of domed roofing spanned over crops that needed protection from the sun or bad weather.
Any other person would have disregarded the area and moved on.
But he knew better. He moved the drone forward, dropping lower. It had a loud engine sound, and he didn’t want to alert anyone who might have been nearby.
The plantation was deserted though. Perhaps it was too early in the day, or perhaps these poppies weren’t in need of any maintenance today.
Shivers broke out across his skin. His dick started hardening in his pants before he could will away his erection.
He’d found them.
He zoomed away from the poppy field, flying idly for a few minutes until he could make out more man-made structures in the distance. There were many of them, this time, so he picked his way closer as stealthily as the drone allowed; hiding behind rock outcrops and flying high enough that anyone looking up would mistake the drone for a bird hovering to spot prey in the dusty canyons below.
A massive set of buildings reared up.
Closer.
A villa.
Goosebumps broke out over his skin. His hard-on was back, twice as big as before. He ached from how his dick pressed against his pants, but it was as delicious a sensation as the knowledge that he was looking at a pit of vipers.
He’d found them.
And that Hispanic girl with the big eyes had led him straight to them.
Eleodora Rivera. Missing, presumed abducted.
The daughter of a man the DEA suspected to be head of El Calacas Vivo.
She hadn’t been abducted, of course. It was a play as old as the game itself; there’d been too much heat on them, on her family, so she’d had to flee. Sending out a fake news report that she was missing might have made her enemies think she wouldn’t be a problem anymore.
Now she was hiding in wait, perhaps sheltered by the cartel themselves, until she could resume whatever she deemed a normal life for the daughter of a cartel leader.
Except…he’d found her, hadn’t he? What he’d thought a dead end to a long-cold lead had led him straight to the heart of the second largest cartel operating in America.
Fuck the Captain reinstating him after this; he’d be the fucking captain when this was all over.
After he’d smoked those snakes out with fire.
56
The puppet master
Cora stood in Javier’s room. It was twice the size hers was, with an ornate four-poster bed that looked like it should have belonged in an English palace, not a villa in the middle of Nowhere, Texas.
She was alone. Ana had left a few minutes ago, saying something about ‘getting the party started’, but she hadn’t been paying attention.
Her attention had been on the dress she wore.
If it had been anything like her dream, she’d probably have gone into a fit. But it wasn’t.
Rose-gold satin flowed from her shoulders to the carpet. It was surprisingly modest. The dress clung precipitously to the very edge of her shoulders, dipping down to between her breasts. It should have felt like the smallest movement would have it sliding down and exposing everything, but it clung to her like a second skin, even when she twisted in front of the stand mirror. Pink stones clustered in intricate, floral shapes around the bust before whirling around her waist, and then gradually dispersing into her long, flowing skirt. It had a train that someone was supposed to carry for her.
Her veil was pure white, studded with zirconiums, and spilled from a garland of intricate white flowers resting on her head.
Ana came back, carefully shutting the door behind her.
It was two in the afternoon.
After Ana had picked her up from the floor, she’d climbed into the tub and stayed there until the water had gone cold. While Ana was trying to urge her to get out, a maid had come to announce that the wedding had moved up.
She hadn’t even reacted. Ana had gasped. Had whispered a furious, “Why?” and then bit down on her lip as if regretting having said anything.
She was getting married. And not a day or two earlier.
Today.
Today, at sunset, she would be marrying Javier’s son.
She’d taken heed of Ana’s advice. She wasn’t fighting it anymore. What was the point? Finn and Lars had left her—which was no surprise after the way she’d treated them—and even Bailey had been conspicuously absent today.
This was—perhaps always had been—her war. She alone would fight it. Except…she’d decided to surrender, instead. She was clearly outnumbered. Her dignity seemed to pale in comparison to the energy it took to hold her position.
So she was turning herself over to the enemy.
