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

by Logan Fox

She hated dreams like this; they always felt like they went on forever.

  “Is that for me?” she asked, completely unintentionally.

  Zachary beamed at her, and perched on the edge of the bed. “How are you feeling, my love?”

  She smiled at the term of endearment. “Good. A bit stiff, but good.” She stretched, and Zachary ran a hand over the sheet draping her shin.

  She should have flinched at the touch, but she didn’t.

  Dreams were weird like that.

  “This’ll see you right,” he said, gesturing toward the tray. Then he leaned closer, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Your things are in the closet,” he said as he drew back. His eyes drew a lingering line over her body. “Not that I would mind if you stayed in that for the rest of the day. What’s left of it, anyway, sleepy head.”

  He left while she was still giggling to herself like a school girl. She glanced at the tray. Her stomach felt hollow, but she didn’t want the food—the coffee would do for now.

  It burnt her tongue.

  Cora jerked, hurriedly setting the mug down and staring at it if it was a pile of snakes.

  A tongue rasped over the back of her hand. She stared wide-eyed at the dog as it turned gorgeous, imploring eyes on her, and then looked at the tray.

  Cora’s hand shook when she set the plate on the floor. She yanked her legs up as the dog wolfed down the bacon, eggs, and toast in case one of her toes got in the way.

  She slowly backed away, her feet tangling in the sheet as she tried to get off the bed without catching Lady’s attention.

  So intent was she on the dog, that when she slipped off the bed and backed up into a warm, tight body, she screamed in shock.

  A hand clapped over her mouth.

  “No, no, no!” Zachary yelled in her ear, giving her a rough shake. “No more noise!”

  So Cora squeezed her eyes shut and tried desperately to stifle her next scream.

  She couldn’t.

  38

  Shadow heart

  As soon as dawn broke, Lars, Finn, Bailey, Kane and Ana split up to begin searching Zachary’s property. Lars had tied Neo to the rocking chair on the porch, despite the man’s protests.

  Grass crunched under Lars’s boots as he headed away from the farm house. Kane had come up with a way for them to cover as much of the farmhouse’s grounds as possible between the five of them; each heading straight out to the furthest points, and then circling back in at an angle. Like the spokes of a wheel, and then a mandala slowly winding inward to its center. Well, that’s how he’d explained it.

  For some reason, it sounded almost logical. Lars put it down to the fact that, in the last twenty-four hours, he’d been drugged, lied to, and deprived of food…and that he’d done all of that without a single nap.

  A rohypnol induced semi-coma didn’t count, because it just fucking didn’t. And despite his body begging him for sleep, he hadn’t been able to get any shut eye, not even when he’d gone to lay down in the back of the SUV.

  It might have had something to do with the dead body Milo had taken to show him. That was the last time he called bullshit on anything Milo said.

  Zachary’s property was surprisingly serene. Birds sang from the branches of the many trees dotting the land, and larger mammals moved just out of sight— either gearing up for the day ahead or moving back to their burrows to wait for night.

  The air smelled crisp and clean. But, about twenty minutes into his walk, he reached a crooked chain link fence that he assumed was the property’s boundary. And, five minutes after that as he headed back toward the farmhouse at an angle, a light breeze wafted the smell of char to him.

  Whatever had burned, it had been big. His boots stirred smog where it lay like thin cotton wool over the ground.

  The smell intensified to a sweet miasma of burned wood, damp ash, and…?

  Lars slowed, but didn’t stop walking. His hand went to his pocket. Ahead, the trees cleared out and a large, squat building appeared.

  Well, its shell.

  Smoke curled up from what remained of the stone walls—those that hadn’t toppled.

  Lars dialed Milo.

  “I was just about to call you,” Milo said. “We found a tunnel.”

  Lars crunched over grass that had turned to spiky charcoal. It seemed the fire hadn’t been adequately contained by the building.

  Fires were hungry things, after all.

  “My burned down building beats your tunnel,” Lars said, but he could hear how strained his voice was.

  “Your…what?”

  “I think you should get over here.”

  “You should get over here,” Milo said sternly. “This tunnel goes all the way to fucking Mexico.”

  Lars stepped carefully. The stench of smoke turned the air to a soupy stink that seemed to cling to him as he climbed over a fallen beam.

  The warm ambience of dawn painted the fire’s remains a sickly hue.

  “You know that thing Neo said, about how Zachary’s supposed to have like a lot of staff?”

  “Yes, but what does that—?”

  “I just found them,” Lars said. “All of them.”

  Then he turned and hurled up everything that was left in his stomach.

  Finn glanced aside at Lars. The man sat shotgun in the SUV, fingers curled against his mouth as he stared out the window. He hadn’t said a word after giving Finn directions to the staff quarters. They’d found him sitting on a rickety chair that had somehow escaped the carnage, watching dawn break over the horizon.

  More than anything, Finn would always be grateful for Lars’s warning, his last words before he’d hung up.

  “Don’t bring Ana. I don’t care if you have to tie her down…Don’t. Bring. Ana.”

  So he hadn’t brought Ana, but he’d gathered up Bailey and Kane. Bailey had been the one to find the tunnel entrance, Kane the one to realize that, from its position so close to the Rio Grande, it had to be a conduit between USA and Mexico.

  Both had been adamant they’d wanted to see the other side.

  But Lars had needed them.

  They’d left Ana to keep an eye on Neo. Kane and Bailey rode in the back, silent as the rest. The SUV’s interior smelled faintly of weed; Kane had offered Lars a hit of a joint after they’d inspected the grotesque remains of Zachary’s staff quarters…and the bodies that had still been inside when he’d set fire to the place.

  In fact, Finn was the only one who hadn’t taken a hit from that joint. Everyone — even Kane — had seemed shocked by just how many people had been consumed by those flames.

  Some had been children young enough to die in their mother’s arms.

  Yet Kane, although shocked, hadn’t seemed surprised. According to the DEA agent, Zachary had a history of starting fires. He himself was covered with burn marks from the first fire he set that killed someone. Apparently, he’d had enough of being sexually abused by the man who’d taken him in after his parents had died.

  A one Gregory Yule had been the tragic victim of an oil fire back in ninety-eight. Young Zachary, merely a teenager at the time, had barely survived and definitely not unscathed. Burn marks covered most of the left-hand side of his body.

  He’d refused skin grafting.

  Instead, it seemed, he’d found solace in more violence.

  Finn’s knuckles creaked as he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

  Cora was in the hands of the devil himself. Maybe that’s why Lars had taken to silence, and why the air inside the vehicle prickled with dread apprehension.

  Finn parked the SUV at the mouth of the tunnel.

  It was their last hope.

  Kane stirred first, catching Finn’s eye as his reflection moved in the rear view mirror. “Times a-wasting,” Kane murmured, glancing over the faces of everyone inside the car. “Let’s go get our girl, shall we?”

  Finn’s beast growled deep and low. Claws clicked as the creature came hesitantly forward and sniffed the air. Then it slunk
back to its shadows, nothing but a sullen gleam of its eyes to prove it was there.

  It was probably better that way; he couldn’t afford to lose control. Not now. Not with so much at stake.

  He would never forgive himself if he did something to fuck this up. If he lost Cora forever.

  Four sets of footsteps sounded through the dirt, and then off concrete steps. The four of them spread out into a line; Finn in front, followed by Lars, then Bailey, and finally Kane.

  When Finn glanced back, Kane was studying the inside of the tunnel with visible admiration.

  “You know El Chapo had one of these too?” Kane said, but more as if to himself. “Several, in fact. Soon as we shut one down, he’d just build another.”

  “First time I’ve heard of it,” Bailey said.

  “Well, he didn’t have anything on this scale,” Kane said. The man’s voice sounded sonorous how it echoed back to them. “His tunnels were quite small, ill lit. This is…this is downright fucking cocky.”

  “Wasn’t like he’d be disturbed,” Bailey agreed somewhat hesitantly. “It’s his own land.”

  “Probably owns the property on the other side too. That would be genius. Never worrying that a landlord is going to snitch on you. Not that Zachary West tolerates snitches.”

  This brought a wave of stillness crashing over the men again.

  Those bodies.

  Finn picked up his pace. He knew Cora wouldn’t be waiting on the other side of this tunnel, but the sooner he could get to the next step, the sooner he would find her.

  Minutes later, the tunnel sloped up and opened into a field. Yards behind them, the Rio Grande filled the air with the melody of water chafing its banks.

  The first thing Finn spotted was the dead dog.

  The second was the glint of the ring that lay on its unmoving flank.

  As he crouched beside the animal, the other three spread out. The field was mostly grass with large pockets of bare ground interspersed between.

  Kane went to go stand at one of them, hands on his hips as he studied the dust.

  Lars came up to Finn. Fingers brushed the tip of his ear, and he glanced up at the man.

  “Her ring,” Lars said as he slowly came into a crouch beside Finn.

  “A message,” Finn murmured, twisting the ruby until the light caught it just right. He looked up at Lars. The man’s eyes were bright, if blood shot.

  He was falling apart.

  “Guys!” Kane’s voice rang out, and Finn flinched at the sound.

  Fuck, they were both falling apart.

  He and Lars clustered beside Kane, Bailey joining them a second later. The man went into a crouch, using a long stem of dry grass to point out a faint track in the dust.

  “Helicopter.”

  At that word, Finn’s beast threw back its head and howled.

  “They could be anywhere by now,” Kane added, coming to a stand as he brushed his hands on his pants.

  Anywhere.

  When Finn forced his eyes up and happened to catch Lars’s eyes, he could see his own dismal suffering reflected in those green irises.

  Their group had gone so still, so silent that, a few yards away, crickets began scraping out their melancholy tunes again.

  It was over.

  They’d lost her.

  One by one, the men turned away and headed back to the tunnel. Bailey was the last to leave, perhaps because he would take the longest to mourn Cora.

  And Finn left first, because he knew he’d never, ever get over her.

  39

  Home

  “You need to eat something.” Zachary’s voice roused Cora from the blank slate that had become her mind.

  A tray slid over the table. Mouth-watering smells wafted over to her—crisp bread, creamy pasta, red wine—but her stomach clenched at the thought of eating.

  She sat on the beach house’s porch. It faced a wide expanse of beach front.

  Waiting. That’s what she was doing. Waiting for the perfect moment.

  She’d already planned her escape. While Zachary had been in the kitchen, she’d taken small, inconspicuous glances up and down the coastline.

  Half a mile away, a tangle of jungle-like vegetation had encroached on the sandy beach. Less than a yard in, darkness beckoned.

  It would be a hard run, and she wasn’t exactly an athlete, but she knew she could make it.

  She would make it. She had to. There was no other choice.

  Not unless she wanted to spend the rest of her life here, with Zachary.

  The cottage was beautiful, of course. The beach as idyllic as that on a travel brochure.

  If it had been any of her men here with her, she would have thanked Santa Muerte for blessing her with just a wonderful life.

  But Zachary presence left the feel of sticky oil on her skin.

  Nearby, Lady lay curled in a ball, watching the waves ebb and flow. Had the dog been here before that she was so relaxed? Or was that because of how weak she was?

  Cora tried to feel sorry for the dog, but then she might start feeling sorry for herself too and that was a slippery fucking slope, one she refused to go down.

  They were both trapped, but one of them, at least, had the desire to break free. To escape. As soon as—

  “Eat!” Cutlery rattled as Zachary’s fist slammed down on the distressed wood table. “I won’t have you fainting on me.”

  Fainting?

  Cora lifted a fork and toyed with a strip of fettuccine.

  Was it poisoned? Drugged?

  Her mind didn’t feel right. Everything was soft, and insubstantial. Touching a thought made it dissipate, like puffing on a dandelion. Fragments of her mind fluttered away, beautiful in their flight but lost forever.

  Escape.

  That was what she had to remain focused on.

  Escape.

  She dropped her fork, and lifted the wine glass to her lips. The first sip made her tongue recoil, but she welcomed the trickle of coolness as the wine went down her throat.

  “You really shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach, Eleodora.”

  She drew a deep breathe.

  Now or never.

  “I don’t want this,” she said, pushing her plate away with trembling fingertips.

  “It’s all there is.”

  She glanced at his plate. “I want a steak.”

  Zachary patted a napkin against his lips. “Then I’ll bring you one.”

  The kitchen faced the porch. Zachary had been keeping an eye on her the whole time while he’d been cooking. But, to reach the kitchen, he had to go through the front door and down a short hallway.

  Zachary stood, pushing back his chair with the back of his legs.

  “And another bottle of wine,” Cora said.

  “You don’t like the wine?”

  “I’d prefer a white.”

  Zachary left with an amused smile on his mouth. Just before he stepped inside the beach house, Cora slipped off her sandals and held them in a hand.

  As soon as the dark interior of the beach house swallowed Zachary, she ran straight for the side of the porch and vaulted over the railing.

  Soft beach sand broke her fall, but she still stumbled forward three steps before she could catch her balance.

  Behind her, Lady barked.

  No! Bad dog!

  She didn’t look back. Her feet sank relentlessly into the soft sand as she tore over the beach, heading for the beckoning dark.

  Another bark, this one louder than the first, but not any closer.

  “Stay!”

  For a moment, she thought Zachary’s command had been directed at her, and that made her laugh.

  Fuck you, motherfucker!

  Her legs screamed at her to stop, but she forced herself to run faster. She pumped her arms, lungs burning the closer she got to the overgrown jungle.

  Just before she broke through into that cool, green darkness, she hazarded a quick glance behind her.

  Zachary stood on the porc
h, wiping his hands on a dishcloth. Lady sat at his heel, ears pricked up and tongue lolling out the side of her mouth.

  Cora stopped running in sheer confusion.

  Why wasn’t he chasing her?

  She was far enough that she couldn’t clearly make out his expression, but it looked like he wore a rueful smile. Cora spun to look at the jungle, her skin suddenly writhing in panic.

  Was there something worse in the jungle than Zachary? Was he that sure of himself that he knew she’d come running back to him out of fear?

  Fuck that.

  She plunged into the cool darkness. Foliage reached for her, slapping against her arms and legs as she struggled through the thick underbrush. Roots kept snagging her bare feet, and branches and dangling trellises caressed her face as she moved deeper into the jungle.

  Seconds later, light cut geometric shapes through the vegetation.

  She squinted, and her heart pounded in victory.

  A road.

  She was right by a road!

  Cora sped up, falling twice before she could push her way out of the thick vegetation. Dusting off her clothes, she cast a vague smile around as she took in the scene.

  No, not a road. A runway.

  Her smile faded. And, just past that, a cliff.

  The muscles on her legs writhed from the exertion she’d just put them through, feeling loose and rubbery as she slowly trundled over the runway. The sun had baked the tarmac to a blistering shine; she paused to slip her sandals back on and then forced herself to keep walking.

  She stared down at the ocean where it beat relentlessly against gray cliffs.

  Whoosh, crash, hiss.

  Ad infinitum.

  Cora looked up, but the sun was too bright for her to make out much beyond what looked to be a small control tower for the runway. But, even from here, she could see it was empty.

  Keeping in sight of the ocean, she headed away from the runway.

  It couldn’t have taken her longer than half an hour before she came in sight of the beach house again.

  Zachary rocked in his chair on the porch. He’d taken away their plates, but a second bottle of wine had joined the first.