Protector Of Convenience (Rogue Protectors Book 2)

by Victoria Paige

  “You know what I mean, mijo.” She exhaled heavily and looked at her cornfields, lit in a beautiful golden cast over green fields by the setting sun. “The past few days have been trying. Ariana’s kidnapping, Leon’s death and now … what will the family do about Hector?”

  “He has a lot of explaining to do,” Migs said, jaw hardening.

  “I understand, but is Ariana sure he gave the order to have Leon killed?”

  Migs shook his head. “What exactly do you want to happen here, Abbi Mena? He’s guilty no matter how you look at it. A man is dead. And not just any man—a man closer to this family than Hector ever was.”

  “It didn’t used to be that way. You and Hector used to be tight like brothers.”

  “We grew up.” Or grew apart. “Are you trying to justify what he did because of Tio Pepito?”

  “I’m trying to understand. Leon is dead and nothing can bring him back. I don’t want Hector’s life ruined because of a mistake he might be regretting. Done in the heat of the moment.”

  “That was no heat of the moment.” He was having a hard time keeping hold of his temper. “It was premeditated. The explosives in the stage. Ariana’s kidnapping. Let’s not forget about that. I nearly lost my wife!” He ended on a roar. He spun away and stared at his boots and sighed heavily. “I didn’t mean to yell at you. I’m sorry.”

  “See what I mean,” she said. “You regret immediately. For Hector, he is blinded by his anger that you played a part in Pepito’s death.” Her voice cracked and it was tearing him up inside again. “But I don’t want to believe my children and grandchildren are totally evil. That they are not capable of remorse.”

  Footsteps snapped a branch, causing Migs to swivel and reach for the gun he had behind his back.

  It was Crispin, one of the new guards. “I’m sorry, Señor Walker, there is a man at the gate, and he wants to speak to you.”

  He frowned. A man? Garrison? “Who?”

  “He said his name is Hector Alcantara.”

  His eyes snapped to his grandmother’s, but she looked on defiantly.

  “Did he call you?” he clipped.

  “Hear him out,” she said softly.

  “What bullshit did he feed you?”

  Abbi Mena’s nostrils flared and her face turned cold. “We may not agree on things, Miguel, but you will show me respect.”

  Her tone would have made him instantly contrite, but he was too pissed at the whole situation to apologize. He stalked back toward the house and into the kitchen with Abbi Mena following behind. “He’s not going to be anywhere near my family.”

  “Your father stopped him at the gates.” The guard kept pace with him.

  Migs stopped and turned to Crispin. “Don’t let anyone out this door, understand?” He looked pointedly at his grandmother, who stoically took a seat at the table.

  Lettie, Bella, and his mother were in the kitchen. The three of them rounded the counter.

  “What’s going on?” Lettie asked.

  “Hector is at the gates.”

  Mamá’s face darkened. “How dare he show up here? After what he had done to this family and Leon.”

  “Apparently Abbi Mena invited him.”

  “Abuelita!” Bella exclaimed.

  “He deserves to be heard.”

  “He doesn’t deserve anything,” Mamá said. “Leon is dead because of him. He handed Ariana to the Carillos! He’s selling drugs just like Pepito.”

  Their grandmother’s expression remained mulish.

  “Where’s Ariana?” Migs asked.

  “She’s in the living room with Tessa and Gigi, looking at pictures … should I—” Lettie started.

  “No, don’t tell them anything,” Migs headed out the kitchen, through the portico and then into the main foyer. The door opened, revealing Cesar who looked ready to kill someone. “Drew sent me to get you. Hector is here.”

  “I know. Stay here. Don’t let anyone out.” He passed his brother-in-law and skipped the steps. Cesar’s Bronco was idling in front of the house and Migs got in to drive to the gates.

  Migs drove the pickup through the gates and parked beside a black Escalade. It appeared his cousin wasn’t hovering at the poverty line yet.

  He shoved out of the Bronco.

  “Migs!” Hector broke from his heated discussion with his father and rushed toward him, but his cousin’s forward momentum stalled when Migs advanced on him.

  “Take it easy, cuz,” Hector held out a palm and backed a step.

  “Take. It. Easy?” Migs snarled, grabbing him by the collar and slamming him against the Escalade. He brought his face close. “You traded my wife because you lost a drug shipment. You had Leon killed—”

  “That was not the plan,” Hector sputtered. “The old man shouldn’t have followed us.”

  “He was onto you, wasn’t he?”

  “I did not start this, and you know it!”

  Migs released his cousin and stepped back. “This is about Tio Pepito.”

  “Yes.” His younger cousin spat. “Don’t you think I’m justified? No one was supposed to die or get hurt. I swear. Benito said he would release Ariana once he was done with her. Unharmed.”

  “And you believed him?”

  Hector started pacing, gesturing wildly. “I panicked, all right? I believed what I wanted to believe. I owed him three million dollars and I didn’t know where to get it. When he said he wanted Ariana …” he glanced at Migs whose face must have been a thundercloud because his cousin chewed on his words before stuttering. “You just met her. How did I know that you’d get pussy-whipped? You never stick to one woman anyway—”

  “So you’re saying my wife is disposable?”

  Hector looked at him warily. “Is that a trick question?”

  Migs gave him the answer he’d been itching to give the moment he saw his cousin again. He punched him across the face. Hector wasn’t a fighter and Migs’ easy jab allowed him to feel cartilage smash and bone break, blood spattering everywhere.

  Drew yanked him back. “Miguel. Enough!”

  “Motherfucker,” he growled at his cousin. “I should kill you.”

  “Leave something for the cops,” his father said.

  “I shouldn’t even be here,” Hector said. “I know—”

  Two unmarked vehicles and a dark blue Suburban converged on them simultaneously.

  “What the fuck?” Migs growled, drawing his weapon and dragging Pops behind him.

  But the new arrivals were cops—DEA to be exact.

  Lenox stepped out of the Suburban, armed to the teeth. All this for Hector?

  “Sorry, I couldn’t let you kill my informant.”

  “Informant?” Migs said incredulously. “Since when?”

  “Hey, I never agreed to anything,” Hector protested. “And what the fuck are you guys doing, showing up here?”

  Lenox looked at Migs. “You’re not DEA. You’re something else, and whoever you’re working for has created headaches for the State Department.”

  He didn’t say anything. Lenox could be fishing because last he talked to Nadia, there was still no contact from Garrison yet.

  “I’m going to need to bring you in,” Lenox started pulling his cousin away, and then glanced at Migs. “I have a few questions for you too, if you would oblige.”

  “I can’t right now.”

  Hector yanked his arm away and glared at Migs, grabbing him by his shirt. “Fuck! You made me forget what I came to tell you.”

  “What? That you’re sorry you kidnapped my wife? Killed Leon?”

  “Shut up for a minute and listen,” Hector gritted out. “I did something stupid. I nearly forgot that I gave it to him.”

  Migs stilled. His blood turning cold. “What did you do?”

  “There’s a way into the ranch from the tree line. I was with Leon when he was checking—”

  “You didn’t …” he whispered.

  “I thought …” But his words were cut short.

 
; Gunshots exploded from the house.

  29

  Ariana decided to give her husband some space. When he said he was going to mend fences, she thought she could take up Tessa’s offer to show her the family album. Abbi Mena was still in her room—processing.

  What a mess, but she was sure they would find a way to live with this truth.

  This family loved hard, and Ariana had every faith in them to get through this. She sighed.

  “Hey, did you hear me?” Tessa asked.

  “What? Yes, I’m sorry.” She looked at the picture Tessa was showing her. Miguel in a Batman costume.

  “That’s his first trick-or-treat. All little boys want to be Batman. I went as Princess Jasmine. Aladdin was big that year.” Migs’ sister looked at her again. “You’re distracted.”

  “I’m sorry,” she replied. “I thought I needed the distraction.”

  “We probably should go help the girls with dinner,” Tessa said. “I’ll check on—”

  A scream tore through the house.

  Tessa frowned. “Bella probably broke a nail.”

  But Ariana was tense. Hyper-vigilance was what Migs called it, maybe even PTSD. The other woman glanced at her. “We better—”

  More screams and yelling.

  And voices of men that were not familiar in this household but were familiar to Ariana. Her heart raced and her breathing came in fast.

  “What the hell?” Tessa muttered.

  Two successive gunshots rang out.

  “Oh my God, oh my God,” Tessa whispered, all color leaving her face. “What’s going on?”

  Ariana sprang into action, dragging Tessa who had Gigi in her arms into the hobby room that adjoined the living room. She opened and closed closets rapidly until she found one with different quilts and crocheted blankets hanging in columns. “Stay here. And por el amor de Dios, keep Gigi quiet.”

  “Where are you—”

  She shut the door on Tessa and hustled back to the living room and when she peeked into the hallway, a shadow in the darkness moved and grabbed her around the waist, spinning her so an arm was behind her back and another was pressed against her throat.

  “Hola, mamacita, we meet again.”

  Silba.

  The Whistler hauled her across the house like she was a rag doll. She was powerless against the cartel’s most dangerous hitman. Her mind froze in horror when she saw a man face down on the portico. It was too dark to discern the color of the pool of liquid beneath the body, but it could only be blood.

  Silba shoved her into the kitchen and she stumbled, falling on her knees where Cesar was prone on the floor, a map of red on his back. No sooner than a blink, fingers grabbed her hair and she was spun around, facing the women in the kitchen.

  “You and your husband have cost me a lot of money,” Benito’s menacing voice said in her ear. She could smell the stench of his breath—coffee, cigarettes, and pungent food. “For payback, and for fun, we’re going to make it hurt. And they”—he pointed to abuelita and Delia, who were tied to chairs and silently crying—“are going to blame him for this nightmare for the rest of his miserable life.”

  “Jefe,” one of his goons hurried into the kitchen. “Están viniendo.”

  Migs!

  “Vámonos!” Benito shoved her back to Silba and grabbed Bella from one of his men. “I’m going to start with you.”

  She, Lettie, and Bella were dragged out the kitchen door, the older women looking on helplessly.

  Benito had four men with him.

  Ariana was tossed over a shoulder and their abductors started running. Benito was laughing and sounded as high as a kite. That could work to their advantage. Unfortunately, Silba appeared stone-cold sober and had his wits about him. She listened to the cartel boss rage about how he was going to rape them, and they would spend the rest of their lives in one of his brothels because they were too old to sell to his human trafficking clients.

  “Too bad the twins aren’t around,” Benito said. “They might make me some money. I have customers who would pay a fortune for twins even if they’re not sixteen.”

  Sick bastard.

  Her ribs were in agony as she continued to bounce on Silba’s shoulder. Finally, the sicario lowered her and she recognized the stream that Migs took her to for their first picnic. Under the bough of the ancient tree were several ATVs. Was this how they came in? A sick feeling sunk to her gut.

  Three women against five men, and one of them was a known sicario. How are they going to get away?

  “Ariana!” Migs’ furious roar ripped through the night.

  “Bella!”

  “Lettie!”

  A knife appeared by her throat. “Scream and I cut out your tongue. Now get on the ATV.”

  “No!” It was Bella who screamed, fighting Benito. “I’m not going. Just kill me here.”

  Shit, Bella. Ariana glanced frantically around for a weapon to use. Anything. She’d seen Silba’s gun behind his jeans, but he was fast.

  “Do you have her, Jefe?” Silba asked warily. It was subtle, but Ariana caught the unease in his tone. Far from the calculating cartel capo he was, it seemed this last blow the CIA dealt Benito made him a loose cannon. His own hitman wasn’t trusting his boss’s judgment.

  “I have her, estúpido,” Benito spat and drew his gun, pointing it at Bella’s head. “I will put a bullet through your head, and I will fuck you even when you’re dead! Now, get up.”

  A commotion broke out between Lettie and her captor. One of the goons went to help him, laughing at his narco buddy for not being able to handle a tiny woman.

  Benito continued pacing in front of a stubborn Bella, his hands in his hair, gripping them in frustration as he spewed threats against her.

  Silba cursed and stalked toward his boss to settle the matter, and that was when Ariana stuck out her foot, tripping the sicario who landed hard on his knees. As Silba tried to get up, Ariana dove for the rock she’d seen and swung it toward his head, ending with a sickening thud. He fell forward, groaning, and she took that opportunity to steal his gun, managing to evade his blind attempts to grab her.

  When the fifth man rushed over to help Silba, several things happened simultaneously.

  A gun went off.

  Lettie screamed for everyone to run.

  Bella shrieked.

  Benito went down.

  The fifth man got distracted and that was when Ariana shot him.

  “Run!” Lettie screamed again just as another shot was fired.

  The three women converged on the incline. She heard voices of men in front of her. Their freedom only seconds away.

  Lettie scrambled up first.

  Bella kept sliding, unable to get purchase.

  Ariana’s injured foot couldn’t gain traction, pressure on it sending a jolt of pain up her leg.

  A hand gripped her ankle and dragged her whole body with it.

  She was flipped on her back, and she caught a flash of steel heading straight for her heart.

  This was it.

  Her life flashed before her as Silba’s silhouette was the last thing she’d see in this world before he killed her.

  Migs floored the gas, the Bronco barely gaining maximum speed before he braked in front of the house and jumped out the vehicle. The urge to burst into the house was strong, but he fell back into his training and waited for Lenox and his men to catch up.

  He flattened against the wall beside the door. Lenox took position on the other side and tossed him an earpiece.

  “Wear this,” the DEA agent ordered. “You know the drill.” The man knew like the last time it would be useless to tell him to stand down.

  Migs stepped back and kicked the door, and their team stormed in.

  They split up to search the house. Lenox and two other agents went with Migs toward the kitchen, alternating between leading and providing cover as they hit each corner. His jaw clenched as he recognized Crispin sprawled on the portico.

  “Check him,” Lenox t
old one of his men. They had called for an ambulance when they first heard the gunshots.

  No matter how many times he’d been on this road before, the fear of losing Ariana was a struggle to contain. He had to call on the soldier and not the husband once again, as he took his first step into the kitchen.

  And almost lost it.

  Blood, so much blood.

  Tessa, valiantly keeping pressure on Cesar’s bloody back, raised tear-streaked and anguished eyes to him. His eyes went to his mother who was carrying Gigi and turned away from the carnage in the kitchen.

  “Miguel,” his sister whispered.

  “Help’s coming,” he said grimly. “Which way?”

  With her good arm, Abbi Mena pointed to the fields. “They took Ariana and your sisters. Get them back, Miguel. Please.”

  Migs was already sprinting out to the patio and into the fields.

  “Ariana!”

  “Bella!”

  “Lettie!”

  He had to give them hope that help was not far away. Lenox and his men stopped beside him and listened.

  “No!”

  It was faint, but he knew where it was coming from.

  “There!” He pointed. They were at the stream.

  Migs ran ahead of everyone, thankful for the last rays of the setting sun.

  A gunshot echoed in the clearing and his legs broke into a dead run.

  His familiarity with the land had him flying over the terrain as the others struggled to keep up. By the time he reached the embankment, his pulse was pounding in his ears and his lungs were about to burst, not from the effort of the run, but from the effort to restrain his fears. Movement in his peripheral vision had him swiveling his neck to the right.

  “Help them!” Lettie cried.

  And that was when he saw, the glint of the blade getting ready to plunge into the woman he loved.

  Gun raised, sprinting forward, he plugged the motherfucker with successive rounds until the man fell on his back.

  He slid to his ass beside Ariana, weapon aimed at Benito Carillo.

  “Don’t!” Lenox shouted. “Walker. Don’t shoot!”

  Breathing hard, his finger tightened on the trigger.

  “We need him!”

  He glanced down at Ariana. “How many were there?”