by Box Set
I fist my hand and let it sink to the bottom of the tub. The buzzing tension in my chest has begun to fade, and I let out a long breath. Galeno was right, holding it all in hurt more, but I’m still uncertain where all of this leaves me, and the sudden drain leaves a dizzying fog in its wake.
Galeno gathers me against him, my legs fully covering his lap, and slides my damp hair off my shoulder. “What’s your sister’s name?”
“Luna,” I whisper, feeling in my gut what’s coming next.
“And your name?”
There it is. My mouth falls open, but no sound comes out. I feel like speaking that forbidden name will release something I can’t put back. But, what’s left? What’s one more secret? “Rune.”
My heart suddenly pounds harder in my chest. I sit up, moving to my knees in front of Galeno. “Is that what you’re going to call me now?”
“What do you want me to call you?”
“Sera,” I say, not taking any time to debate it.
Galeno smirks. I had expected he would, but not the warm feeling it creates in my stomach. He draws one leg up, then stretches it out on the opposite side of me, so I’m kneeling between his legs.
“And if I stay”—I try not to get distracted by my full view of his dick beneath the roiling water—“you’ll help me find Jorge? You’ll let me kill him?”
His eyes darken, but his smirk slowly grows into a smile. “Yes.”
“And you’ll help me find my sister?”
He reaches up, swiping a tear from under my eye with his thumb, even though his touch leaves my cheek wetter than the tear. “Of course.” He grabs my hand and pulls me closer. “Now, let me hold you for a while.”
I settle against him, between his legs. I can’t feel the jets here, but his touch is better than anything a Jacuzzi can offer.
15
Galeno rolls out of bed without a word early the next morning. I wait for a bit, thinking he went downstairs for coffee or something, but when he doesn’t return, I get curious. As soon as I open the door, I hear voices coming from downstairs, speaking rapidly in Spanish. One I don’t recognize mentions something about a message.
“Juegalo,” Galeno orders. Play it.
Then, I hear another familiar voice. “You have something that belongs to me and I want her back.”
I sink down the wall, clutching my knees. Jorge knows where I am.
Then, I hear a woman scream. “Unless Agular wants me to keep his sister in exchange…”
Jorge has Galeno’s sister. My chest pulses with a sickening beat as if my veins are full of tar and my heart can’t keep up.
He must be out of his mind. Fucking with Los Zetas to get me back. He never fucked with them before. Why now?
I climb to my feet and run down the stairs. As soon as they see me, the other man presses a button on his phone and the message goes silent.
“Do you have any idea where he is?” I ask.
He glares at me for a moment before answering. “No, we’re working on tracing him—”
“Don’t bother.” I step off the bottom stair. “He knows a million ways around that.”
The new man looks vaguely familiar. His blue eyes narrow on me. “And I suppose you can’t tell us anything either.”
I grab a hold of the post at the end of the railing. He’s a Decena. I can’t place which one as I’ve never met any of them, but I have seen him on one of Jorge’s dossiers. “I’ve been here, why would I know where he is?”
“You talked to him,” he says, taking a step closer.
I look to Galeno. “On the phone. For two minutes. He didn’t tell me anything. I know a few places he likes to visit, but I doubt he’d be keeping her at any of them. What does the rest of the message say?”
“He gave us a way to contact him through the dark web and set up your delivery,” his voice is morose, but he still stares at me like he believes I know something more.
“Then, do it,” I say.
Decena huffs. “So you can tell him all you know?”
“Like what? That Galeno has a sparrow tattoo? Or he keeps a tracker in the key fob to his car? Because that’s all I know.” I throw up my hands. “If he sent me here to spy on Los Zetas he wouldn’t pull out after less than two weeks, and he sure as hell wouldn’t be making a spectacle over it.”
Decena’s nostrils flare as he stares down at me, and I’m pretty sure one more word from me will cause the vein in his temple to burst. “You want us to believe that we’ll hand you over to the man you’ve served for the last decade and he’ll just hand Elena over?”
No, not even I believe it’ll be that easy. “I’ll make sure he does.”
“So, we should just trust you? Trust that you running off two days ago and calling him has nothing to do with his demands? Isn’t this what you do, zorra?”
“Don’t—” I choke on the word and stumble back until I hit the bottom stair. My gut churns, and I shake my head. “I—I—”
I don’t know anymore.
“Sera,” Galeno says, and I drag my gaze up to him.
Does he doubt me too?
His lips are tight, jaw pulsing, eyes hard, but not particularly focused on me or Decena and I watch his tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek. “I believe her.”
Decena grunts, spinning on his heel and walking toward the center of the room. “You’re thinking with your cock.”
Galeno rubs his hand over his beard and gives his boss a look that would’ve made Jorge beat me senseless.
“You better hold your tongue,” Decena mumbles, then he turns to me, his shoulders falling slightly. “Where would he take her?”
I shrug and shake my head. “I can give you a dozen or so places where I know he likes to hang out, but none are exactly suitable for this. He and I didn’t travel together.” I rub my forehead, trying to press out the knots forming there. “For the last five years we’ve barely been on the same continent.”
“He kept tabs on you from halfway around the world and can’t find you now?”
“He tracked everything.” I hold up my hand, displaying the angry, red scar next to the base of my thumb. “Until Serge cut it out. I know you have no reason to trust me, but if you don’t, he’ll kill her… after doing far worse than that.”
Galeno takes a step back, turns, and punches the wall behind him. “If we hand you over, you know what he’ll do.”
“I know what he’s doing right now,” my voice quivers. “I can handle it. Can your sister?”
“We can find another—”
“This is Jorge,” I shout, torn between the urge to run to him and protect myself by staying away. “There won’t be another way.”
“And what’s to stop him from killing you?” He charges in my direction so fast I almost lose my balance.
“He’ll make me pay, but he’ll keep me alive as long as there’s a possibility I’ll benefit him. He’s not going to shoot me on sight. I can buy time.” I hope. I really don’t know, but I’m not about to sit around when he has someone else’s sister. I know first-hand what he could be doing right now.
“Los Zetas will not be blackmailed by some lobo,” Decena says.
“I wouldn’t expect you to, but I assume double crossing him isn’t off the table. When he’s dead he won’t exactly be bragging.”
“And how are you going to pull that off?” Galeno asks.
“I figured out how to kill a halcone when I was fourteen, I can figure out how to kill Jorge.”
“But you haven’t yet,” Decena says.
I draw my bottom lip between my teeth. “I didn’t think I had a choice. Where would I have gone? By the time I even began to question Jorge, I’d made far too many enemies.”
My back straightens, and I look to Galeno. What if I don’t have anywhere to go after this either?
Galeno rolls his neck and looks up toward the ceiling. “This is a terrible idea.”
“Yeah, but so is sitting here debating it when he could be hurting yo
ur sister. Contact him and set it up. Then figure out a way to track where he sends me. When your sister’s safe, find me and if Jorge isn’t dead yet, finish him.”
“That’s a fast turn around,” Decena says.
I see my hair waver with my shaking body out of the corner of my eye. “Not really. I always was the defiant one. He’s beaten me enough times to make that clear.”
“How are we supposed to track you?” Galeno asks. “Tracking a car is much simpler than a person and surely he’ll suspect that one of us is up to something.”
“Suspicious isn’t the word for him.” I walk to the corner of the room, needing space from the men watching me. I rub the back of my neck and stretch out my shoulders as I think. “He’ll send Miguel to bring me back. What if I can get the tracker on him before he can search me?”
Galeno and Decena exchange glances, and then Decena takes a step toward me. “I want the details on everywhere he hangs out.”
“Fine, but if he finds out you’re sniffing around them, he’ll know I told you—”
“He won’t find out. Unless you cross us.”
———
I left Galeno and Decena to work out the logistics an hour ago. Closed in the bedroom, I struggle to find the right headspace to pull this off.
Just long enough.
Push ups. Sit ups. Lunges.
My muscles feel the burn much sooner than usual, but it helps me to focus. I know my back will feel it the most, but I can use the pain too.
The door opens and Galeno stays in the doorway watching me as I stretch on the floor. “Jorge sent an address. We have two hours.”
I nod.
“So, that’s it then?” he asks.
“Only if you don’t plan on coming to get me.”
Galeno pulls me off the floor and leads me to the bed where he lifts me up to straddle his lap. “I’ll come for you,” he growls. “You better be in one piece.”
I grab a handful of his hair, pulling him closer and laying my cheek on his shoulder. He moves my hair back, exposing my neck, and goes to kiss me, but I recoil. “I can’t do this.”
“We’ll find another way.”
“No.” I slide off the bed. “This.” I wave at him. “I have to focus.”
“Sera.”
His voice, that name, the combination rattles me to my core. “Not helping.”
“I have one thing to say, and I’ll leave you to it.”
I turn back and glower at him. “If you’re going to tell me not to fuck up, save it.”
“Thank you,” he says.
I’m surprised my neck doesn’t snap when I look up at him. These feelings are going to get me killed. Especially if I let Jorge see them.
———
Lucero, Galeno, and a crowd of people I don’t know are gathered when I descend the stairs. Decena is nowhere to be seen, so I figure he’s already off making arrangements.
The plan is set.
Lucero will make the drop. I’ll get the tracker on Miguel. Decena will arrange for backup wherever I end up. And Galeno, Lucero, and this gang will follow. Hopefully.
Now, no one speaks. They all just stare at me until I feel like the prisoner being led to the gallows.
Lucero walks me to the SUV and Galeno stays close while still giving me the distance he knows I need.
But as soon as I’m in the car, my muscles become twitchy and my skin feels like it’s on fire.
“Ready?” Lucero asks.
I start to nod, but my hand goes straight for the door handle and I jump out, running straight to Galeno. I yank his head down until his lips crash against mine. My body seals to his while his fingers dig into my hips. I refuse to break away until my lungs ache for air.
“What happened to focusing?” he asks, his lips barely a millimeter from mine.
“The whole feeling that I’m being shipped off to my funeral was too much even for me.”
“We’ll be there as soon as we can.” His lips brush against mine, just enough to tease my senses. A promise of what I can expect when this is over. “I refuse to let you slip away until I’ve tasted the rest of you.”
I almost laugh. “That’s exactly the mental image I need right now.”
His hand caresses my jaw while his thumb traces my lips. “How about this then, anything he does to you, I will repay tenfold.”
“Not if I get him first.”
Who would have thought the best flirting would involve threats of torture and death?
16
The meeting point is almost forty minutes away, and from what we could tell, it’s an empty field.
I lay across the back seat, cutting myself off from everything else, particularly Galeno which I find impossible. My stomach churns with every bump in the road at the thought of seeing Jorge again. There’s no telling what he’s going to do. What he knows. Whether or not he’s going to believe me, not matter how rehearsed I am.
“We’re here,” Lucero says.
The SUV rocks me when it stops in what sounds to be gravel. I’m tempted to sit up and look around, but I’m the prisoner. Prisoners don’t do that.
I take a deep breath and blow it out through pursed lips to fight down the nausea again. Too much. Too much has happened in the last two weeks to even begin to pretend that I’m the same Poco Cierva.
I wait until Lucero comes around the car, opens the door and yanks me to my feet. His jaw is clenched, and he squeezes my arm hard enough to leave a bruise even though everything in my eyes tells me he doesn’t like doing it.
We stand in a dark field lit only by the full moon and headlights. Over Lucero’s shoulder, I see another SUV waiting with Miguel standing next to the back door. His arms are straight, hands clasped in front of him, but I try not to look too much.
I have to keep my movements small. Lifeless. Dead eyes. Closed mouth.
Lucero grabs me by the elbow and pulls me to stand between the two SUVs. “Where's Elena?”
“She’ll be delivered in due time.”
“If Jorge wants to fuck with Aguilar and Los Zetas—”
Miguel rolls his head, like he has no time for Lucero’s threats and takes no stock in them.
Damn fool.
“Like you,” Miguel says, “I was sent here to do a job. I was told to pick up Carley and bring her back where she belongs. As soon as that’s done, Jorge will make sure Elena safely returns home as well.”
He’s using my alias and I hope that means Jorge doesn’t suspect that Galeno knows my true identity.
“And we should believe you?” Lucero’s growing anger is evident in his increasingly rough hold on my arm, but I told them it’d be like this. It’s the only way we’re going to sell it.
Miguel takes a step closer to us, eyeing me in particular. “Tell him.”
I lift my eyes. “Jorge will keep his word.”
I’ll make sure of it.
I squeeze the tracker in my palm, then pinch it between two fingers in preparation.
Lucero jerks me sideways and then shoves me toward Miguel. I trip over my own feet, but most of it is intentional so I land perfectly against Miguel’s chest and I slip the tracker into his coat as he rights me.
“Now get in your car, and leave,” Miguel barks.
Some bite for a glorified chauffeur. I keep my head down so my hair falls over my face, but turn just enough to glance back at Lucero. Letting my somber face act as a silent assurance that the tracker is in place.
The tires of Lucero’s SUV bite against the gravel as he peels away in a shower of rocks and dirt.
“Strip,” Miguel tells me, crossing his arms. “Jorge isn’t taking any chances. You’re to leave all of your clothing here.”
I saw that coming, but it’s a shame to leave the boots. Galeno’s sister has good taste, and it’s a pity they’ll go to waste in the middle of nowhere. Then, Miguel shoves me into the back of his SUV.
I wonder if their plan is to leave me naked until I find the paper bag on the opposite side of
the seat.
“You can get dressed along the way,” he says, climbing into the seat in front of me. He doesn’t even give me time to get settled before gunning the engine and heading back toward the highway.
Galeno had figured that the drop-off point was twenty minutes from a private airport, and that would be the next stop, but twenty minutes turns into an hour before I realize we’ve doubled back. Miguel is making sure we’re not being followed.
Finally, we arrive at a tiny airport, barely visible from the main road. I have no idea how the tracker is going to work from here, but all I can do is hope Galeno is still prepared.
I slip on the pair of flats I'd left on the floor until now and follow Miguel through the airport lobby. It’s a private airport and nearly empty so no one pays us any attention. He shoves another door open and we’re outside again. I expect a plane to be waiting, but the only thing on the tarmac is blue sedan.
Shit.
On the bright side, we’ll be remarkably easy to track down. But the amount of effort put into this charade is giving me heartburn.
I don’t react however, climbing into the back seat of our new car, and expecting a similar runaround. I lean my forehead against the glass and zone out even the scenery as we drive. I’m exhausted. My body aches—which is mostly my fault. And the adrenaline of the initial meeting is fading fast.
Then, the car comes to an abrupt stop, throwing me forward, and I look up.
No. Fucking. Way.
17
This was the last place I ever expected to see again.
Hell, I didn’t expect it to even exist anymore.
Miguel climbs out of the car, walks around, and opens my door. “Welcome home.”
“Very funny,” I snap, but he isn’t kidding. He takes my arm and pulls me to the front door of the suburban house. The siding has been replaced, under the porch light, it now appears white instead of grey-blue, and most of the stonework around the base has been painted as well.
