Their Cartel Princess: The Complete Series: A Dark Reverse Harem Box Set

by Logan Fox

  Lars was already through the door by the time Ana’s yell cut off. He had just enough presence of mind to yank his pistol from his belt before rounding the corner and coming face-to-face with Neo.

  Neo glared at him, lifted a gun, and pulled the trigger.

  The bullet tore a hole through Lars’s sleeve, and missed his chest by less than an inch.

  Surprise widened Neo’s eyes, and then incredulity when Lars launched himself forward. He struck Neo in the chest, sending them both toppling to the ground.

  Ana let out another yell. Desperate. Panicked.

  Bailey shot past Neo and Lars, giving Lars a brief once-over as if trying to determine who was winning before he turned the corner.

  They wrestled on the carpet in the middle of Duncan’s hallway, Neo on top and then Lars, raining kicks and punches on each other until they were both breathless.

  It wasn’t as if they were evenly matched—Lars could have tied the guy in a fucking knot—but with a hammer relentlessly slamming into his head, it was impossible to anticipate what Neo was going to do.

  A crash resounded through the house, then another.

  Would a neighbor call the police after this ruckus? Or was this the kind of street were smashing glass and shouts were ruled out as another little spat between the Mr. and Mrs in four?

  Seconds later, he got a solid blow to Neo’s jaw with his elbow, and then a knee to his groin.

  The man curled up with a moan that rattled in his throat, cursing Lars in what had to be beaner.

  Lars sat back, gritting his teeth as his headache paused, and then intensified.

  Bailey arrived around the corner, a new gun in his hand. Ana stumbled after him, hair mussed and tear streaks on her face.

  Pushing himself to his feet with a grimace and the aid of the wall, Lars pointed absently at the writhing Neo. “Tie him up,”

  He made his way to the bathroom, offered a silent plea to any deity that happened to be looking in his general direction, and flung open the cabinet.

  He spotted a prescription bottle of Codeine. His breath hissed out of him as he opened it with trembling hands and shook out two pills.

  As much as he felt he deserved this agony, the pain had become unbearable.

  Lars Eklund: martyr no more.

  He slugged down the pills and chased them with a cupped palm of water from the tap.

  When he came back to the hallway, Bailey and Ana were busy tying up Neo. He noticed a briefcase standing just inside the study’s door.

  “Where’d that come from?” he asked, pointing to the briefcase.

  Bailey glanced at it over his shoulder, and tugged hard at the ropes binding Neo’s wrists. “Found it in the safe.”

  “Safe?” Lars asked, squinting through another hard throb.

  “The one in the study, behind the painting.”

  Jesus, he sucked at being a PI.

  “We should call Milo. Let him know…” Lars began, trailing off when his cellphone began to ring.

  He answered with a curt, “You find her?”

  Milo sighed heavily in his ear. There was a moment’s silence so intense, Lars’s skin prickled with dread.

  She was dead, wasn’t she? El Lobo had hacked her up and left her for them to find. Milo was a wreck. Would be a wreck for the rest of his life.

  Fuck, he wouldn’t do any better.

  His chest was so tight, he couldn’t breathe. Even his headache had fled, but he knew it would come crashing back as soon as Milo spoke the words.

  “Jesus, just say it!” Lars yelled into the phone. “If she’s dead, just fucking—”

  “She’s not here, Lars,” Milo said softly. “She’s…” Another sigh, more like a huff, before Milo added in a tight whisper, “…our girl’s gone.”

  33

  The Master Bedroom

  The air stank of damp, charred wood. The smell made the hackles of Finn’s beast stand up. It growled at him as it began to pace.

  An old sedan stood parked just off the farm’s main entrance. The trunk stood open, but moonlight shone around it, not inside. Finn’s first instinct was to ignore it—Cora wouldn’t be in there anymore—but a flutter of midnight against shadows drew his eye.

  “You see that?” Kane murmured, and his hands moved away from his sides as if sensing he might need to attack someone or something.

  He’d refused to give the agent a gun, of course. The whole reason he had Kane with him was so he could keep an eye on him. He’d been helpful, but Finn doubted it was because he was suddenly on their side.

  I want to find her just as much as you do.

  Although his words had rang true, Finn knew he wasn’t being a good Samaritan. If Kane found Cora, and somehow got rid of those protecting her, he would have her down at the DEA’s office fast as he could drive her there. Fuck, he’d probably radio in for a helicopter.

  Finn approached the trunk obliquely, pistol straight, finger curving around the trigger guard. When he was close enough, he stepped to the side and aimed the gun straight into the deep well of shadows.

  It was purest night inside there. Nothing to see. Except…something moved.

  Finn stepped closer, straining to see something in the darkness.

  A small rock struck the bottom of the trunk’s lid.

  Darkness burst from inside.

  Finn leaped back, gun training on a crow as it flew out the trunk, cawing miserably at them for disturbing it.

  A flashlight shot a beam of light on the trunk’s lid, and then darted down.

  Finn dropped the arm holding his pistol. Miguel’s slack face watched them dispassionately from the trunk. It might have been the play of the flashlight on his face, but Miguel looked as if wore a smug sneer on his dead lips.

  Too late. We came too late, his beast howled.

  Miguel’s throat had been slashed violently enough to expose the blood-streaked cartilage of his trachea. Or perhaps the crow had been ripping out strips of flesh after the scent of Miguel’s blood had drawn it here.

  This close, blood hung heavier in the air than whatever fire had so recently been doused.

  From the calculating gaze he found on Kane’s face when he turned around to head for the farmhouse, it seemed the man was trying to figure out why Finn hadn’t jumped when he’d thrown the stone.

  The man would never know it, of course, but the only time he felt alive was when he was close to Cora.

  Kane could have clubbed him over the head and he wouldn’t have flinched.

  The closer they drew to the farmhouse, the emptier it felt. Finn opened the screen door as quietly as possible. Luckily, it was well oiled and barely made a sound.

  “Careful,” Kane murmured behind him. “The man has at least two pitbulls.”

  Finn stopped walking. He sensed Kane coming up behind him, standing too close for comfort, but he couldn’t urge his feet forward any more.

  “Pitbulls.” His voice was surprisingly even.

  “Yeah,” Kane murmured. “At least two. Guy has a thing for them.”

  “You couldn’t have told me this before we opened the fucking door?” Finn whispered back furiously.

  “They would have attacked by now.”

  “Then why warn me?” Finn said through his teeth.

  “Rather safe than sorry,” Kane said, and it sounded like he was wearing a smile.

  Finn swallowed hard. It wasn’t that he was scared of dogs, but he’d only ever been on the receiving end of their attacks. Pitbulls had jaws of steel, and the tenacity of a fucking mountain goat making its way up a sheer cliff.

  Finn crept deeper inside the house.

  The first door to the left was a small sitting room. A fire was dying on the heart, only red hot coals still glowing.

  That wasn’t where the smell had come from.

  Finn moved to the next doorway.

  A dining room.

  “Christ,” Kane muttered behind him. “You’d think someone like Zachary West could afford a maid or two.�
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  Finn didn’t want to agree, but he had too. The place was a mess; dirty dishes, flies…a rat scurried away into one corner when Kane shone his flashlight over the filthy table. The light trained on two plates. Cleaner than the rest, they both had remnants of a meal on them.

  The sight made Finn’s skin crawl. It was possibly Zachary and Duncan had eaten here before heading to the party, but—

  “At least we know he doesn’t plan on killing her just yet,” Kane said almost conversationally from behind him. Apparently, the man had surmised that the pitbulls were in fact not here, because he didn’t bother lowering his voice.

  “He fed her,” Finn supplied, turning on his heel and catching the faintest trace of surprise in Kane’s hazel eyes.

  Kane nodded, and shone his light just ahead of Finn as they headed for the hallway.

  They searched the bathroom, a small storage room, and a guest bedroom. Then Kane’s flashlight shone a yellow circle against the slightly ajar door down the hall.

  Master bedroom.

  It was always the master bedroom, wasn’t it?

  Finn fought hard for breath as he moved down the hall. He could already sense the room beyond was empty, but at the same time his beast had begun to pace and wicker to itself like an unsettled horse.

  He pushed the door open, and couldn’t wait for Kane’s light to sweep the room so he fumbled for the light switch.

  Light blossomed.

  “Mother Mary have mercy,” came Kane’s voice behind him. He couldn’t quite make out if the words were reverential, filled with disgust, or both.

  Finn stepped inside, immediately pressing the back of his hand against his nose. It didn’t help; rank putrefaction hung in the air like a diseased fog.

  His eyes kept shying away from the body on the bed. Not because he’d never seen a corpse at such a late stage of decomposition, but because he kept thinking he recognized those bloated features.

  Kane stepped past him, his flashlight going into his pocket as he crouched beside the bed to study the dead body.

  Finn checked the en-suite bathroom. Empty, and filthy. The smell in here was almost as bad as it was in the room.

  He came to stand beside Kane as he took his phone from his pocket.

  It was a call he didn’t want to make; his throat closed up at the thought. But Lars and Bailey had to know that he’d failed.

  That they’d failed.

  Kane took a pen from his pocket, and leaned closer.

  Finn grabbed his arm, yanking him back. “The fuck are you doing?” he snapped, in a voice too loud for this room.

  “Checking something,” Kane murmured, tugging his arm free. He glanced up at Finn, as bright eyed as a professor sharing intimate knowledge of some arcane subject with a pupil. “He’s American, see, but I’m convinced there are Santerían influences in some of the punishments he meters out to his enemies.”

  “Punishment?” Finn repeated, wondering if Kane even realized what he was saying.

  “Yeah. Look.” Kane used the pen to wedge open the corpse’s jaw. Then he shone a flashlight inside the boy’s mouth. “See?”

  Finn’s mouth twisted in disgust, but he crouched a little lower so he could look past the row of surprisingly even teeth.

  “Tongue’s gone.” Kane wiped his pen on the bedspread as he got to his feet. “He probably fed it to one of his dogs.”

  Finn’s fingers tightened around the cellphone until the casing dug into his palm. Kane shrugged, slipped the pen back in his pocket, and made his way out of the room with a quiet, “Wonder how big this property is?”

  Those even teeth were bugging the hell out of Finn. He looked back at the body, trying to see past the decomposition to the bone structure below.

  High, defined cheekbones. Sharp nose. Square jaw.

  Angel. Which was impossible, because Miguel had—

  Miguel was dead in the trunk of the car parked outside. Had he brought Angel back here to show to Zachary? Had Miguel been a traitor?

  He’d been the falcon. The one Javier had sent to bring Cora to his compound.

  Finn went to a crouch, his arm on the bedspread.

  If he and Lars hadn’t been with Cora the day he’d brought her to the compound, she might have wound up at Zachary’s side more than a month ago. But something had told Finn to take her all the way to Javier—something he regretted to this day after the shit Javier had pulled…but maybe it had been better than what had been waiting for her here.

  Except…Zachary had still gotten exactly what he wanted.

  He had Cora.

  We failed her. We failed her. We failed her. We—

  Finn swayed forward as he squeezed his eyes shut against the sudden yapping litany in his head.

  To steady himself, he pressed his fingers to the bright Zapotec mat under him. When he’d urged calm onto his mind a second later, he became aware of something hard under his fingertips.

  Finn looked down.

  There, on the carpet, lay a dark bracelet. He picked it up and laid it in his palm to inspect it.

  The clasp had broken off.

  He stood, turning to the door as Kane came back inside the room.

  Kane’s eyes went to the jewelry, and a touch of darkness seeped into the man’s eyes.

  “He must have realized it was a tracker.” Kane’s voice was sullen. When their eyes met, Finn felt a pull toward the man. Something inexplicable, like the gravity of a black hole—felt, but not seen.

  “Guess he wanted to make damn sure we’d never find her.”

  34

  Catatonia

  Blink.

  Cora walked through a narrow passage where the smell of dirt and grease hung in the air. Ahead, a sickly yellow light beckoned, thrown from a bare bulb against one wall. Then everything faded to black.

  Blink.

  Low key humming. An old tune that she thought she could recognize if her mind hadn’t been so foggy. Cora’s feet moved woodenly under her. Thump. Thump. Thump. She turned her head to find the source of the humming. Zachary strode beside her, a faint smile on his plain face. She stopped walking. He turned to her, his smile inching up as he took a hold of her arm and twined it through his. They walked on, darkness edging her vision before everything went black again.

  Blink.

  A pitter-patter of feet behind her. The humming had stopped. Cora glanced over her shoulder. A pair of pitbulls trailed her and Zachary. The one with the dark fur was several yards back, Lady almost right behind them. When Cora looked at her, the dog wagged its tail and grinned. She wanted to say, ‘good girl’, but her tongue refused to move.

  Blink.

  The tunnel widened. A gentle slope led up and out. Cora struggled with the change in angle, but Zachary gripped her waist and helped her out. It was a gentlemanly thing to do, so she smiled at him, and he seemed to appreciate that because he smiled back at her as he brushed a strand of hair from her face with his thumb.

  “Welcome to Mexico,” he murmured.

  Blink.

  A roar. Cora’s eyes sprang open, searching. They found the two dogs, but the sound wasn’t coming from either of them. Wind whipped stinging strands of hair into her face. Cora broke free from Zachary’s grip, but he just watched her with faint amusement as she stumbled back and fell hard on her ass. Lady was beside her in an instant. Midnight stole the world away as a warm tongue lapped against the tears drying on her cheeks.

  Blink.

  Noise enveloped her. Cora tried to focus on the beast descending from the sky, but it was too big, too monstrous. She realized she was fumbling with her ring, and wondered why. When that bright ruby finally popped off her finger, she watched with vague concern as whoever controlled her body turned and put the ring on top of the still body of a darkly-furred dog.

  Good boy. Sleep tight. Don’t let the fleas bite.

  She laughed, but the sound cut off as the monster made contact with the ground a few yards away. A silhouette moved toward her, arms outstretched.r />
  Blink.

  Hands grasped her arms, pulling her up from the ground. A furious wind swirled around her, yanking at her strange new clothes. A dog yipped and barked nearby, but the sound was almost all but drowned out by the hellish rotors of the helicopter. Her head fell back. Her eyes closed. Softness enveloped her.

  Blink.

  Her center of gravity shifted. When she forced her eyes open despite their reluctance, she saw the tops of trees and distant mountains. Someone shifted beside her, and she snuggled into their warmth. An arm draped her shoulder, and she jerked as a tonally flat voice boomed in her ears.

  “Hush, little Elle. Go to sleep.”

  So she did.

  35

  Tighter

  The relentless thwack-thwack-thwack of the helicopter’s blades transformed into a soothing drone. Zachary scratched the fur behind Lady’s ear, careful not to disturb Eleodora. She’d slipped down and now lay with her head nestled in his lap, hands under her cheek like a child.

  He stroked her hair, tucking a stray strand behind her ear before gazing out of the helicopter’s porthole. Guadalupe spread below them, its rural areas lit by silvery moonlight. But the magnificent view couldn’t keep his gaze. It kept returning to the docile creature curled up on the seat beside him. Eleodora slept soundly, her body finally having caved in to the sedative he’d injected her with.

  He was glad she’d wanted to leave the farmhouse; he couldn’t stand the stink of the place anymore. It was disappointing, realizing after all this time that the people he’d hired had all been so useless at their jobs.

  They wouldn’t be disappointing any future employers. He’d seen to that, at least.

  He drank in the sight of Eleodora; her flawless skin, her glossy dark hair, the plumpness of her lips. Curled up like this, she was a small thing. A little curvier than the girl with the pink toenails—it had been difficult to get the blouse to close around her breasts—but perhaps she could stand to lose a few pounds.

  He preferred his women slender, with pronounced spines and ribs. Always had.