Disclaim (Deliver #3)

by Pam Godwin

  “Tell me what’s going on.” She folded her arms across her chest, shivering against the tension in the air.

  “What about the plan we discussed?” Nico scowled.

  “Get everything lined up.” Matias grabbed her hand and turned toward the door.

  “Hey, boss.” Chispa stood, rubbing the back of his neck as he lifted a chin in her direction. “Maybe you should sit this one out. We can do this—”

  “No fucking way.” Matias pulled her into the interior living space.

  Her scalp tingled. “Hold up!”

  “Are you bringing her with us?” Chispa chased after him. “What if something happens while—”

  “She’s going.”

  “Matias!” She slammed to a stop, only to be yanked forward again by his strong grip. “Are we in danger?”

  “No. We’re in a hurry. Pick up your fucking feet.”

  MATIAS PRESSED HIS BACK into the plush leather of the helicopter chair. The seven-passenger light twin was built for luxury and comfort, but he was far from comfortable.

  Squeezed into the cabin with the entire inner circle and battling for leg room, he felt like rubber bands were wrapped around his chest. Guns at his lower back, shoulder, and ankle dug into his skin. His hands slicked with sweat, and the woman sitting next to him glared daggers at the side of his face.

  The past hour had been a whirlwind of weapons collecting, safety planning, and route mapping. Camila had followed him around his suite, huffing and demanding answers, but he’d been too focused and rushed for a sit down with her.

  Now that they were in the air and heading out of the Amazon basin, he had three hours to tell her where they were going and what he’d been doing for the past ten years.

  A jittery ache kicked through his stomach, and it had nothing to do with the flight. The twin engines purred quietly, and the smooth rotor system propelled the aircraft fast and seamlessly through the atmosphere. With a sticker price of eight-million dollars, he’d more than paid for a shudder-less ride.

  “I thought it would be louder in here.” Camila leaned over his lap in their rear-facing seats and peered out the window into the dark sky.

  “There’s a capsule between us and the airframe, and the dual-pane glass helps.”

  Two rows of three seats filled the cabin, configured to face each other. The cockpit was behind him and Camila. Nico sat on her other side, talking quietly with Chispa and Picar as they bent over the tablet he held between them, studying a digital map.

  Frizz sat directly across from Matias, head resting back on the seat, eyes closed, and complexion paler than usual. Matias wished the guy wouldn’t participate in these jobs, knowing how they affected him. But like Camila, Frizz was haunted by his own experiences and motivated to retaliate.

  “I’m trying to be patient.” She sat back and drummed her fingers on Matias’ thigh. “Like really trying here.”

  He hadn’t envisioned telling her like this. Of course, showing her had always been the plan, but he would’ve rather sat her down in private, when she was ready, and explained it all.

  His stomach hardened. Fuck, what if she wasn’t ready?

  He’d removed her collar last night after dinner, and she didn’t need it now, not where they were going. She wore jeans, a long-sleeved shirt, and tennis shoes, just as he’d instructed. Everyone in the cabin donned the same look—casual, a little rugged, with footwear that wouldn’t slow them down if they needed to run.

  Maybe it would be better if she went in blind. With an actual blindfold, because she would never be able to unsee what they were about to walk into.

  “Why aren’t you telling me where we’re going?” She pressed her nails into the denim on his inner thigh. “And why don’t I have weapons like the rest of you?”

  His breath hitched as hope warred with suspicion. Did she want to shoot him or… “Would you fight alongside us?”

  “Yes.” She lifted her chin. “I mean, as long as we’re not headed to some meeting place to pick up more slaves.”

  Chispa coughed into his fist, and she whipped her head toward him. Matias clenched his teeth.

  “Sorry, it’s…” Chispa gave her a sheepish look. “It’s the stale air in here. Makes my throat tickle.”

  Motherfucker. Matias schooled his expression, and she looked back at him, shaking her head with wide eyes.

  “Tell me that’s not what we’re doing. You wouldn’t…” She searched his face, voice reedy. “You’re taking me on a slave run?”

  A swallow caught in his throat. It was the moment of truth, a moment of courage, the testing point of her instinct, her trust, and her love.

  He held himself still and confident as his stomach flipped inside out. “What does your gut tell you?”

  She glanced around the cabin at the guys, and none of them made eye contact with her.

  “Look at me, Camila.” When her teary eyes returned to his, he said, “What do you see?”

  Her hands balled against her thighs as she stared at him, long and hard. “I see a man…the man I—”

  “Sir!” the pilot shouted from the cockpit behind him. “We’re being tracked.”

  “Who?” Matias twisted in the seat and scanned the glowing panel of gauges. “Something on the radar?” He didn’t have a clue what he was looking at.

  “I have it.” Chispa bent over a tablet on his lap, gaze focused on the screen. “There’s a jet above us. Probably Colombian military.”

  “Or American.” Nico rubbed a hand over his scowl. “We can lose them. It’s the helicopters and puddle-jumpers below and around us we need to worry about.”

  As predicted, it didn’t take long for the first helicopter to buzz by, swooping and circling. Matias’ pilot outmaneuvered and outran it, allowing a few minutes’ reprieve before the next one showed up.

  Despite his strung-out nerves and heart palpitations, Matias kept his breathing tempered and mind clear, watching Chispa as the man stared unblinking at the radar on his screen. They’d been through this countless times.

  But never with Camila in tow.

  Her hand clung to his leg, her complexion bloodless beneath a sheen of perspiration.

  “Who are they?” Her voice was strangled.

  “Deep breath. Good girl. Now another one.” He laced their fingers together on his lap. “We’re flying over rival territory, so it could be another cartel. Or the military. They’re always looking for us, waiting for us to come out of hiding.”

  “What the hell, Matias?” Her knee bounced wildly against him.

  “This is Colombia, baby.” He clamped a hand on her leg, stilling her. “The conflict between armed groups like us and FARC and governmental forces has been ongoing for the last fifty years.”

  “What happens if we don’t lose them?”

  “They’ll track us until we land and try to take us into custody.” Or kill us if it’s another cartel.

  “You weren’t kidding when you said you had a lot of enemies.” She offered him a strained smile.

  “No.” His mind went through the worst-case scenarios, all of them ending with them getting shot out of the air and her body burning in an inferno of metal and debris. “But I bought this helicopter for its speed. We always lose them.”

  Two hours and several reroutes later, they slipped beneath the radar and landed out of sight in a sweeping field of darkness.

  A collective sigh breathed through the cabin as Nico opened the rear clamshell door. The guys filed out, leaving Matias alone with Camila. He unlatched his safety belt and crouched before her to remove hers.

  As he rose to lead her out, she grabbed his hand. “Wait.”

  He lifted a questioning brow and lowered to a crouch before her. “Camila—”

  “Let me just say this.” She slid a hand over her collarless throat, her expression deep and serious. “There’s always a basis for justifying an action and an outcome for that action. A motive and a result. You told me, in not so many words, that I might not like the
result, but to trust the reason you’re doing it.”

  His heart slammed against his ribs as he nodded.

  Nudging him backward, she slid off the seat and knelt before him in perfect form—spine erect, shins flat against the flooring, arms behind her, and head held proud. His pulse went crazy.

  “I’m giving you the power to break me inside and out, and I trust that you won’t.” She stared into his eyes and pulled in a jagged breath. “I’m scared, Matias, fucking terrified of where you’re about to take me, but I’m relinquishing that to you, surrendering my vulnerability without shame, because that’s what you want, and what you want, I crave.”

  Tingling weightlessness filled his chest as he pulled her against him and crushed his mouth to hers. He kissed her frantically, devotedly, for as long as he could, but not long enough. When he pulled back, she gazed at him with unfettered trust.

  “When I look at you, I see the man in the boy I loved.” She brushed a finger over the dimple in his cheek.

  “I fucking love you.” He kissed her again, smiling like a lovesick asshole.

  “Wanna know who I love?” She returned his smile and pointed at his chest. “That guy.”

  “Gracias, mi vida.”

  “Now where’s my gun?” She held out her hand and arched a sexy brow.

  He laughed and gave her the 9mm from his boot. “I trust you to not shoot me in the ass.”

  CAMILA HELD TIGHT TO MATIAS’ HAND as a leathery-faced man named Burd drove them along a dirt road in a black sedan. Ice-cold dread swelled in her stomach, and she couldn’t swallow past the clot in her throat. She still didn’t know where they were going, but that was the point of her trust, right?

  However naïve or insane, she did trust him. The thing was, she’d squandered so much time focusing on the slaves at the estate that she’d only seen Matias as a monster. But when she looked at him, really looked hard into his eyes, she saw a monster that would never hurt her without reason.

  Alone in the backseat with him, she rested her head on his shoulder and tried to absorb some of his calm strength. Nico sat in front with Burd behind the wheel. Chispa had stayed with the helicopter pilot to wait for a refueling truck.

  Headlights bobbed in the rear window. Burd had brought two armed soldiers in ski masks—lower ranked cartel members according to Matias—who followed behind in a separate sedan with Frizz and Picar.

  Outside the window, tiny villages twinkled by. Despite the ramshackle sheds and the bleakness of poverty, the communities seemed tranquil beneath the full moon, scattered across the mountains and surrounded by cultivated fields.

  During one of her late night conversations with Matias, he’d told her about these poor rural populations. These indigenous people bred their chickens and labored in their fields of corn and coffee. Their children attended the nearest schools, sometimes hours away, and played with dolls and footballs like any other place in the world.

  But it was a hard life. Land was expensive, and the whir of bullets and helicopters were a constant invasion. While the people were resigned to it, the buzz of rotors always sent them running for cover, often forcing them to abandon their farms and move elsewhere until the violence ended.

  She’d thought about this when Matias’ helicopter had landed in the field of an impoverished village. How many families were cowering in their homes, waiting for Matias to leave? How many other gangs were prowling this area right now?

  “This is it.” Nico’s heavy accent rose above the hum of the engine.

  The headlights behind her went dark as Burd pulled into a long gravel driveway. A porch light glowed at the end of the drive, illuminating the front door of a rickety house. Several cars parked out front. Overpriced luxury cars that didn’t belong in this poor village.

  Prickles raced down her spine. “What is this place?”

  Nico pulled on a ski mask and twisted in the front seat to toss another mask to Matias.

  Her mind flashed with images of the night Van delivered her to them. “I hate those fucking masks.”

  Matias eked out a sad smile then slipped the ski mask over her head, covering her nose, mouth, and neck. “You’ll stay with Nico.”

  “Why?” Her throat sealed up. “Where are you going?”

  “Just until I get through the door.” He adjusted the itchy fabric on her face until only her eyes peered out.

  He exchanged a look with Nico, and while they both exuded calmness, there was an undercurrent in their confidence. Not fear or worry. Something akin to grief.

  What was this place? Why were they here? Her mouth dried, and she grabbed the 9mm on the seat beside her, having no idea why she needed it or who she would be aiming it at.

  Halfway up the drive, Burd turned the sedan around and parked, with the headlights shining in the opposite direction of the house. The second car was nowhere in sight.

  Burd shut off the headlights but kept the engine running. “I wait here in car.” He crammed the words together with a thick Colombian accent.

  “Where’s the other car?” She anchored her gaze on Matias.

  “They’ll come in on foot.” He touched his lips to the material over her mouth in a whisper of breath.

  Every cell in her body sighed then snapped tight as Matias pulled away and stepped out of the sedan. The interior lights remained off, and the door hung open, letting in the rhythmic chirp of insects.

  In the next breath, his silhouette melted into the darkness. She felt like she was going to be sick.

  The crunch of his boots on gravel faded in the direction of the house. He had about a hundred feet to walk before he would appear beneath the glow of the porch light. If the other guys were sneaking onto the property, this must’ve been some kind of ambush. Who the hell was in that house?

  Nico exited the sedan and stopped by her door, his whisper muffled by the mask. “Keep quiet.”

  With the 9mm in hand, she climbed out into the balmy night air. She didn’t hear people nearby or vehicles in the distance, much less see any signs of civilization other than the house. But she felt something, a prickly unrest crawling through the black landscape.

  Was someone out there? Watching them? Maybe it was the skeletal shapes of the surrounding trees or the fact that she couldn’t see Matias, didn’t like her hearing hindered by the mask, and didn’t want to be alone with Nico. Whatever it was, this remote place gave her the fucking creeps.

  She leaned toward Nico, closer than she was comfortable, to speak low at his ear. “Why isn’t Matias wearing a mask?”

  “Someone has to show their face at the door,” he whispered, eyes darting to the house and back to her. “I’m too recognizable.” He removed a huge handgun from his waistband and flicked off the safety. “This is how we always do it. He’ll be fine.”

  Always do it. She searched the eye opening of his mask and found his gaze more alive than ever and tinged with deep emotion. Whatever was about to happen, he seemed uncharacteristically affected by it. That only made her stomach cramp harder.

  With a crook of his finger, he beckoned her to follow him up the driveway.

  She switched off the safety on the 9mm and gripped it with both hands. Her finger trembled beside the trigger guard, and her breath huffed heat against the mask, wetting the material. Stepping softly through the grass to match Nico’s steps, she trailed behind him toward the house.

  The only assumption she had to go on was they were breaking up a slave ring. If that was the case, wouldn’t they want to make sure she didn’t accidentally shoot an innocent? Maybe there weren’t any slaves in that house.

  Rather than leading her to the porch, he ushered her along the side of it. As Matias climbed the short flight of steps to the front door, Nico kept her in the concealment of the shadows ten feet away. She ducked behind an overgrown bush beside the railing just as Matias knocked.

  A mewling noise sounded from the darkness on the far side of the porch. Then it mewed again in a harrowing appeal for mercy—the weak cries of a
dying animal.

  Her breath came in gasps, and the hair on her nape rose. Nico gripped the juncture of her neck and shoulder with warning pressure.

  Matias turned toward the cries, and the muscles across his back visibly stiffened. What did he see? A cat? Dog? She tried to block the mewling out of her head by focusing on Nico’s grip.

  Matias shifted back to the door as it opened. Nico dropped his hand.

  She angled her neck, peering through the branches to see whoever stood just inside the house, but Matias’ broad shoulders obstructed her view.

  A handgun was tucked in the back of his jeans. Another one sat in a noticeable shoulder holster. His hard-packed body flexed beneath his t-shirt, but in the next heartbeat, his entire demeanor changed.

  His hips loosened and his stance relaxed in a picture of suave arrogance. He crossed a foot over the other and propped it on the toe of the boot. With a forearm braced on the door frame, he lifted the other to slide his thumb over his bottom lip.

  Wearing a sexy as fuck smile, he rumbled the Colombian greeting. “Qué más pues, señorita?”

  “My, my, aren’t you a handsome one?” a woman purred in Spanish.

  Tension shot through Camila’s shoulders and neck. Was he here for this woman? To capture her? Seduce her? Maybe this was a brothel of slaves.

  Trust his reasons and keep him alive.

  “I have an appointment.” He continued in the native language.

  “I might be more your flavor, no? Spend some time with me and find out, viga.”

  Her Spanish was so thick Camila struggled to translate it. Viga? She thought it meant superior muscles.

  “I have particular tastes, yeah?” Matias moved his hand toward the vicinity of the woman’s chest as his eyes swept past her.

  Scoping the place?

  His fingers stroked something on the woman, something Camila couldn’t see but had no fucking trouble imagining. She felt her damn eye twitching and couldn’t stop it.

  Nico gripped her wrist. Without looking at him, she nodded and forced herself to relax. Matias had said he needed to get through the door. Evidently, that required fondling another woman’s tits.