by J. L. Drake
“Don’t.” I was emotionally finished. “I hate you too. It hurts me to even hear your voice.”
He stopped at my bedroom door and sighed heavily. “Catalina, you were the first woman I loved, but we were young, and it’s not like I could say no to your father. I owe my life to him. He gave me this position when I had nothing. I am important here.”
I knew it was unfair to feel that way. I knew what life was like here, but I found his words weak and unattractive. I wasn’t in love with Abel, but I still loved him. He was there for me when Javier left for the States. My father saw Abel only as an opportunity and absorbed him into his sick world. My happiness was never something my father would ever have cared about.
“Goodnight, Abel.” I slipped into my room and saw my phone light up on my bed.
Mike: I’m sorry. I wish I didn’t have to take that call. Can I see you tonight? I leave tomorrow a.m.
The screen blurred as a fresh bout of tears came on, and I spent the night curled in a ball, mourning the loss of my brother and the fact that Mike was going to leave me.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Mike
“I’m telling you, Mike, she looked like a totally different person when she caught my eye in that parking lot,” Charlotte said as she lay across the couch and flipped through the channels. “She wasn’t in a panic like she was in trouble. She just fell apart, and that guy took off in his truck. Maybe it was something about her brother?”
I packed my bag and eyed my father by the doorway. He knew what I was about to do, and he was worried as hell. I’d broken every rule by sharing exactly what I did with my father, but I didn’t care. If something ever happened to me, I needed him to know the truth.
It had been over a day, and I’d sent countless texts, but I had not heard a word from Catalina. I was worried about what Charlotte had witnessed, and it made my head murky. I knew something was going on, and I couldn’t do anything about it. I felt like crap with the timing of Cole’s call right after what we had done, but I also had an important job, and I knew every moment mattered when it came to a rescue. Our second team had spotted Elena in Salvador’s house, and that meant our mission just got pushed up. They wouldn’t leave and risk losing her location until we relieved them. That meant the clock had started. Now I had to leave the country without saying goodbye to the one person I needed to.
“She’ll call when she’s ready.” Charlotte turned back to me when I didn’t respond. “What happened between the two of you, anyway?”
“A lot. I have to go.” I hugged her goodbye, then I hugged my mother and told her I’d see her soon. My father walked me to my truck.
“Do what you need to do. Keep your head in the game, and Catalina will be here when you return, son.” He grabbed my head and pulled it to his, forehead to forehead like we did when I was a kid and I needed his strength to keep going. “Keep your head in the game.”
“Okay.” I gave him a hug before I left, but I didn’t look back. I couldn’t look at my father’s face when he was this worried; it was too hard.
Once in the chopper, blades beat the air, and I cleared my head and went over every single detail of what I needed to do. I didn’t like the idea I wouldn’t have my weapon on me, but I knew we’d have eyes on us the entire time.
“Phones.” Mark shrugged at me as he held open the steel-lined bag. With one last hopeful glance at the screen, I turned off my phone and dropped it inside. Then he handed us each a new phone, preset just for this mission. “Just days, man, then you can go win your girl back.”
“She’s not pissed.” Cole tossed his phone inside. “She doesn’t seem like that kind of girl. I put twenty down it’s her brother.”
“I second that.” Mark sealed the bag.
“Heads in the game, boys.” Cole slapped us on the back.
When we landed and the Jeep arrived, we jumped inside, weapons drawn, and headed to our camp about a day’s drive away. We’d meet up with North Rock for an update before our mission began.
In Hell I’ll Be in Good Company by The Dead South pounded from the speakers as we drove down the dusty side streets. Times like this, the silence wasn’t good for our heads, so we let John drive and used his playlist to keep our minds idle.
We took turns sleeping, one at a time, while the others stood watch. John and I rotated at the wheel, so we didn’t lose any time on the journey.
Every moment counted.
***
Covered in dirt, face windburned, I tried to dislodge grains of sand from my gums with my tongue. I unfolded from the Jeep and stretched my legs.
“Heads up.” John tossed me a canteen to flush my mouth clean. I spat the cool bliss out and handed it to Mark to do the same.
“Irons.” Steve from North Rock waved me over as he emerged from the camp in the woods. “The funeral was yesterday.” He pointed to a photo. “Salvador’s son was murdered. A lot of people showed up, but what was odd was that Bash’s wife was there.”
“What?” I shifted and rested my arm on my weapon.
“She stayed in the background, but we noticed her when Salvador stepped away to speak to her.”
He handed me a stack of photos, and I started to flip through them to familiarize myself with as many people as I could.
“Mike.” Cole pointed to his watch, and I knew it was time. I handed back the photos and rushed to catch our plane. Everything needed to look legit, and we knew when they’d start to watch us.
Three white Ford Explorers were parked at the tarmac when we touched town in Monclova, Coahuila. Cole held up his arm to synchronize our watches. From here on out, we were on a schedule. A timer dictated our every move so we’d stay in sync. There was no room for fuckups.
“Irons.” At our destination, Logan motioned for me to follow him into a room where we changed into our business attire. I wasn’t that comfortable in a suit, but we needed to play the part of wealthy businessmen, and Army pants and t-shirts wouldn’t have cut it.
A Santos Dumont Cartier watch hung off my wrist and matching black cufflinks lay next to it. I didn’t like the fact it wasn’t our Blackstone GPS watch, but we had a part to play.
“Here,” Mark smirked as he walked in and handed me a shoebox, “he’ll notice if you aren’t the total package.”
“Crocodile leather shoes?” I flipped open the box and held up the blue loafers. “There needs to be a line drawn here, Cole.”
“Savi said the American wore them. It’s some expensive designer, Stefano Ricci or some shit. Whatever, she knows fashion, I don’t. Quit bitchin’ and put them on.”
“Says the guy in army boots,” I huffed.
“I’ll be squeezing into that shit too.” He laughed darkly.
We were so out of our comfort zone, but it would only be for a short time.
I took one last look in the mirror and thought how different I looked. I guessed that was what we were going for.
Cole tossed me a wallet when I went for the door. “Ten grand, cash. Don’t lose it but flash it at some point.”
I nodded and hopped inside the fully loaded Explorer.
John was our driver, dressed in limo attire, and a local guy we worked with sat in the front passenger seat. If you didn’t have a local with you, it sent a red flag. Everyone we dealt with was dirty in some way, and as long as we played that part too, we’d fit in.
The drive to the house took an hour, which meant for an hour I drilled the house plans into my head in case something went wrong. I knew the exits, how many men were where, how many weapons, and how much ammo they all carried, along with the last known spot Elena was seen.
“Remember, you only know the basics,” Cole reminded me. We didn’t want to let on that we could speak Spanish fluently. The purpose of this meeting was to gain a little more knowledge before we made our final move.
John let the local speak and showed our IDs to the man working the gate. It took a moment, but we got past the first obstacle. Twice more we were stopped and waved o
n. By the time we got to the house, everyone would know we were there.
Salvador stood at the top of the steps and waited for us to join him. He was a tall man in his late fifties. He’d taken over his father’s business when Daniel’s team took him out ten years ago. It was one of the greatest victories for Shadows and Blackstone. Salvador loved to flash money and wore more rings than a pimp. His shaggy salt and pepper hair was thin, and his crooked mouth reminded me of the actor John Leguizamo.
“Gentlemen, welcome to my home.” He waved us to follow him inside.
Cole shot me a look as he pulled his sunglasses off and tucked them into his pocket. I couldn’t help but laugh inside at the two of us. We were both huge men tucked into business suits pretending to be drug lords. I wondered if Trigger felt just as ridiculous when he went to get Tess back from the house.
“Would you like a drink, Mr. Rutherford?” Salvador held up a bottle of fine tequila to show me the label.
“No, thank you.” I shook my head and took a seat on a red velvet chair that was pulled out for me.
“Mr. Kingsley?”
“No, thanks,” Cole replied.
“I don’t like to drink alone, gentlemen.” He eyed us.
“And we don’t drink until we’ve made a deal.” Cole’s tone was clipped.
“Very well.” Salvador took a drink, then he sat down across from us and dramatically folded his legs and lit a smoke. “I hear you’d like to buy some product from me?”
“Yes.” Cole pulled out an envelope and handed it to him. “Our usual supplier was taken into custody a while ago, and he suggested we speak with you. We’ve lost a lot of money and need to make this happen sooner rather than later.”
“Ah, yes, Denton.” Salvador clucked his tongue. “Such a pity he didn’t get the girl.”
To the untrained eye, you wouldn’t have spotted the shift in Cole’s demeanor, but I caught it. The American was our greatest victory to date.
“He really loved her. The little bitch just didn’t know it.”
Cole’s jaw ticked, and I leaned forward to draw his attention to me. “We’ll need some women who can bring the drugs over and the money back.”
Salvador flicked his ruby ring around his pinky as he thought. “How do you expect to do this?”
“We have three drivers who are signed up for the Baja race. They can bring the girls to the border, and we can bring the cash to a drop-off point near town. We have a guy at the border who has been paid well not to check the panels of the buggies.”
“This is good.” He seemed impressed. “How much are we talking, here?”
“Four-point-five million, pre-race.” I didn’t miss a beat. “That is if this is something you’d like to work out with us.”
“What the catch?”
“We get to pick the women.”
“Pick the women?” A glint of suspicion sparked in his eyes. “Why?”
“We’ve been using social media to promote these drivers, and we have a girl in every photo. If we stray too far from their usual type, it could send a red flag.”
“Yes, I can see this.” He held my gaze a moment before he rubbed his lips with both hands. “What kind of women?”
“They must be small-framed, slim legs, and decent breasts.” I made a cupping motion with my hands. I felt like a pig, but I needed to sound like one.
“I think I just grew hard thinking about it.” He hooked a leg on the arm of the chair, stretching his sports pants.
“Any of your girls match what we need?”
“I believe we have a few, yes.”
“Any tattoos?” I tried a different angle, hoping they’d mention Elena’s butterfly on her collarbone.
“One does, yes.” He looked at me questioningly.
“I don’t want any girl to stand out, that’s all. So nothing too elaborate or memorable, then,” I covered.
“I’d like to meet the mules before I make any decisions.” Cole piped in.
Salvador drew in a long breath of smoke as he eyed Cole hard. “You say Denton told you to come here?”
Shit, we’d spooked him.
“We did say that, yes.” Cole nodded. “Denton Barlow.”
“If Denton knew you so well, you would have met his woman. What did she look like?”
Cole leaned forward and rested his arms on his thighs. “Green eyes, tight body, and long, dark hair.”
“Perhaps. Anyone could have known that.”
“She sings and has one hell of a feisty personality. She was taken by the US Army, and Denton managed to get her back.”
“Are we here to play who-knows-what, or are we here to make a deal?” I huffed, annoyed. Savi’s period of captivity still hurt to think about. “I have a contact within the Devil’s Reach if this doesn’t work out, so you’re in or you’re out. Either way, stop fucking with my time.”
His eyes widened. I must have hit a nerve because he dropped his leg and plucked at his pants.
“Allen’s contract was voided. The DR isn’t selling anymore.”
I smirked, happy my friend wasn’t under their shit control anymore.
“I think it’s pretty fair to say that if Trigger wants something to happen, he makes it happen.”
“Perhaps.”
“We both know you have pretties.” I cringed at the word. “If we are going to move that amount of drugs, we need the best you have.”
“Sal.” A woman draped an arm over the back of his chair and whispered something in his ear.
“And give me something tall. I like my Latinas tall.” Cole tried a different take again to see if he could narrow things down even more. Elena was taller than the average Latina.
The woman’s eyes snapped over to mine with fear, and I felt her concern with Cole’s words.
What do you know, lady?
Salvador cleared his throat before he waved her off, but when she didn’t leave, he twisted to glare at her.
“No,” she hissed, and the air became charged.
Shit.
He stood, annoyed, but oddly didn’t strike her. Instead, he fixed the sleeves on his shirt.
“Shall we do a tour?”
I glanced at Cole, confused at this sudden turn in the conversation. A nerve in my back started to tick and slowly travel up my spine, alerting me something was about to happen.
“We don’t have the time.” I stood and fastened a button on my jacket. “Perhaps we chose the wrong brother to make a deal with.”
I cut raw with that comment. I knew the bad blood between them, but Cole and I both agreed that if we felt Salvador was going to drop us, then we’d use Bash as a weapon.
Salvador raised his head and looked at me, and the vein in his neck popped out while he thought.
“My wife would like to invite you to dinner.”
Cole gave me a knowing nod. If you got invited to dinner, you were in.
“I think we can change some things around.” Cole got out the prearranged phone and called John.
“You,” he pointed to Cole, “meet the girls, pick who you want, and we’ll make a deal.”
“Okay,” he nodded in agreement.
“You come with me.” Salvador motioned for me to follow him. “I want to show you my favorite pieces of art.”
Okay…
I was taken on a tour through several rather overdone rooms. Then we headed down a hallway toward a room I knew from my study of the house plans would be the library. I couldn’t imagine Salvador ever cracked a book in his life, but the room was still intriguing.
I stopped short when I came to a familiar painting of a black angel. Her wings dipped downward, and the profile of her face seemed to be crying.
“Ah, you like my angel.” Salvador sipped the drink he held.
“I feel like I’ve seen this before,” I answered, and I knew where. I pictured Catalina’s slender back and my colorful hands skimming down her smooth skin. My stomach was tight with confusion.
“Sí,” he moved closer a
s he spoke, “it’s a famous depiction by Lewis Devill, one of the greatest cartel lords that ever lived.” He pointed to the angel. “There is a story about the fallen. See the way the feathers are ruffled, and the bottoms of the wings have been clipped?” I nodded. “When angels can’t fly free, they lose their coloring, their lines become dull, and sadness consumes them. There is a saying in Spanish, which means ‘angels littered the ground as prisoners, waiting to be rescued,’ and until they realize that won’t happen, they sit like this. Frozen in a fragile state.”
“And if they’re rescued?” I challenged.
“They will not be.” His tone was flat as he brushed a finger down the side of the wooden frame. “Lewis used to tattoo his pretties, to remind them they’d never be free.” He sighed like he missed the fucking monster. “Sadly, once he died, the tradition ended.”
“So, the girls don’t have the angels anymore?” I was confused. Why in the hell would Catalina have this on her back? What happened to her that she would have such a sad angel on her skin?
His face tightened, and he looked away. “Only one.”
I couldn’t help but think maybe it was his wife, by the hate that raced across his face.
“Come, let’s go get you a drink.” I followed him out to the hallway and back into the bar where he fixed me a whiskey. I didn’t want it, but it was evident he didn’t like to drink alone.
“Tell me something about you, Mr. Rutherford.” He eased onto the stool as Cole joined us with a pale face. A bead of sweat had broken out across his forehead.
“Not much to say, really.” I eyed my brother, concerned as hell something bad had happened. “I followed my father’s footsteps into the drug world, and here I am now, trying to make sure this deal doesn’t fall ap—”
“I told you not to come down!” Salvador interrupted.
“I was looking for Abel,” she snapped back, and I felt the hairs on my neck stand up. I turned and nearly let the drink slip through my fingers.
