Crazed: A Blood Money Novel

by Edie Harris

  “Every twenty minutes, like clockwork. All day, though, it’s been closer to thirty.”

  Ilda swallowed, hard. “I need to let Casey in. Alert me if you hear someone coming.”

  More clanking of chains. “Be safe, belleza.”

  Giving herself a slight shake, she skirted the edge of his cell to the unused straw stall with its rotting wooden feed trough tucked into the farthest corner of the stable. A single door with a rusted sliding bolt was fitted into the solid westernmost wall, dividing the straw stall from the outside world and completely ignored by everyone on the hacienda. The reason for that? The door opened onto the ravine, with only a very narrow footpath between the edge of the stable and the drop-off.

  This was where she’d told Casey to come, though how he’d scale the ravine to get to the door was beyond her. That was entirely his problem.

  Throwing all her weight into it, she shoved at the bolt, gratified when it gave beneath the force. Another shove and it slid back entirely, though with a cringe-worthy screech of metal on wood. Gripping the handle, she yanked it along the sliding track, again flinching at the loud noise, and she thought she heard Adam swear.

  But no, the expletive hadn’t come from Adam, but from Casey, who loomed on the other side of the doorframe. His big boots spanned the width of the path, and his chest heaved with lingering exertion as he glared down at her in the darkness. “What the hell, Ilda?”

  “You know, your brother just said the exact same thing.” Shaking her head, she stepped back. “Follow me. We don’t have much time.”

  A hard grip caught her elbow, calluses rough against the soft skin of her inner arm. “I’m serious, baby. What do you think you’re doing, sneaking out here in the middle of the night?” She could practically hear his teeth grinding. “I saw Pipe drive out of here a few hours ago. Where is he?”

  “He’s in Bogotá until tomorrow.” Tugging her arm free and entirely aware that he permitted her escape. “Do you want to get Adam or not?”

  “Fuck. Damn it.” He shifted into her personal space, head dipping toward hers in an effort to keep his voice low and for her ears alone. “Yes, I want to rescue my brother, but I don’t think you understand what it does to me to see you put yourself in harm’s way.” His hot breath coasted over her cheek, sending shivers dancing down the side of her neck. “It breaks something in me, Ilda. It blinds me, until all I can think of is all the ways in which you could be hurt, or killed, and it’s like fucking losing you all over again. So when I tell you to stay in the goddamn house, stay there.”

  She found herself leaning into him, a terrible melting sensation holding her internal organs hostage as she sought his nearness. “I had to open the door for you.”

  “Jesus, Ilda. I can get through a locked door. That’s basically what I do for a living.” But he softened his reprimand with the brush of blunt knuckles over her jaw, and she refused to feel embarrassed.

  Because of course he could have gotten through the door, she realized now, but she’d been driven by the same need that had demanded she become a confidential informant: Adam was of her daughter’s blood. She could not, in any manner of good conscience, not do everything within her power to save Arlo’s family. Her family.

  Oh, God. Adam Faraday was family, just as he had claimed hours earlier. The truth of that hit her like a full-body blow, because if Ilda considered Adam family, that meant Casey was family, too.

  Not just family—her husband. Her daughter’s father. The brother of the young man sitting chained in a decrepit horse stall, where her fiancé had deposited him. Casey was the one person she had promised to honor and love for all the days of her life. Death—his or hers, real or imagined—didn’t change that single immutable fact, or the utter rightness and sense of belonging she’d experienced upon saying those words four years ago.

  Unable to control her movements, she rushed Casey, closing the scant inches between them and wrapping her arms tight around his torso. Her face smooshed to his brawny chest, she gasped against him, her body surrendering to the unceasing shudders wracking her. This situation, the danger, her feelings...it was all too much in too short a time.

  Casey must have understood. His arms encircled her, and he pressed his lips to the top of her head in kiss after firm kiss. “Shh. Shh, baby, I’ve got you. You’re safe, and I’ve got you, and I’m never letting you go.” Another set of kisses, growled possession. “Never.”

  His words barely penetrated, but the sands of their invisible hourglass did. Instead of responding to his dark words, she disentangled her limbs from his and grabbed his hand, pulling him silently into the corridor to halt in front of the padlocked door that hid Adam from view.

  The glow emanating through the slats cast Casey’s drawn, rugged features in solemn shadow. “Adam?”

  “Casey?” Shackles clinked noisily together, indicating that he’d stood, but it was the hitch in Adam’s voice that held Ilda motionless, even as Casey furiously worked over the padlock with a pair of thin needle-like tools he had magicked from a pocket of his cargo trousers. “C-Casey.”

  Casey cursed, hands shifting. When he spoke, it was in English, and Ilda almost felt like a voyeur, hearing layers of pain in both their words. “I know, buddy, I know. Just hang on a minute longer for me, okay? I’ve almost got this...almost...there.” The padlock clicked open, and he violently shouldered the portal inward on its hinges.

  In the space of a breath, he held his younger brother in an unbreakable embrace. Adam stood an inch or two shorter and at least thirty pounds lighter, and Casey held him like the lost child he was. One big hand cupped the back of Adam’s head, his other rubbing soothingly up and down Adam’s spine as the younger man linked his arms tight around Casey’s shoulders. It was obvious that if not for the shackles, Casey would have simply lifted Adam and carried him away.

  Ilda’s heart splintered in her chest.

  “Th-this is worse than juvie, bro,” Adam muttered thickly into Casey’s shoulder. “Like, a lot worse.”

  “I know.” Casey’s voice was equally thick, emotion overwhelming the stall’s small space as he reluctantly released his brother. Pulling a penlight from another of his pockets, he aimed the beam at Adam’s bound wrists. “Shit. They let you out of these at all?” His thumb pushed beneath one of the shackles to massage the reddened skin Ilda could see peeking out from beneath the metal.

  Adam shook his head and, with a quick glance from damp eyes to where Ilda stood clutching the stall frame with both hands, switched to Spanish. “And I was out cold when they put them on me, so I couldn’t even tell you who’s in charge of the keys. They’re so old school that I can’t pick them. FYI, pretty sure I have tetanus now.”

  “How bad did they rough you up?” Casey spoke around the penlight he’d clamped between his teeth as he applied the lockpicks to Adam’s wrist.

  “Not bad.” Again, Adam looked to Ilda, but his words were for Casey. “You’ve got a kid.”

  Casey’s shoulders tensed, but he didn’t stop working, nor did he glance Ilda’s way. “Yeah.”

  “She’s awesome, Case. Congrats.”

  That made Casey pause, and he pulled the penlight from his mouth, flicking the beam between Adam and Ilda. “You met Arlo? When? How?” His glare burned holes in them both, but focused finally on Ilda alone. “You let Arlo come into the stables?”

  “I didn’t let her do anything, Casí,” she snapped, arms crossing as she shifted her weight to peek down the corridor toward the tack room and main aisle. “Arlo escaped her nanny, and I eventually found her in this stall, sitting on Adam’s lap.”

  The light bounced directly to Adam, leaving him blinking against the brightness. “You held her?” His throat worked for a second. “You held my daughter?”

  God, would the beatings to her heart never cease? Ilda felt like a monster, hearing the yearning in Casey’s gruff whisper.

  “Bro, what’s the plan here?” Adam lifted his still-chained wrist, jangling the links. “Yo
u get me out of these, and what? We can’t leave the girls here.”

  “The girls.”

  Adam’s brows rose. “Yeah. The girls. Ilda and Arlo. We can’t leave them.”

  With a growl, Casey bit down on the penlight once more and set back to his lockpicking. “Can’t make her leave if she doesn’t want to.” And it was obvious that the bitter her in this statement was Ilda.

  Confusion darkened Adam’s handsome face, and he frowned at Ilda. “You want to stay? Here?”

  For the first time since Casey’s reappearance, since needing to ask herself this very question, Ilda didn’t know how to answer. So she said nothing.

  Adam, intuitive creature that he was, immediately softened his expression, reassurance in every patient syllable. “That’s fine, belleza. That’s okay. You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to, and besides, our pretty baby’s probably fast asleep right now, isn’t she?”

  Ilda could do nothing but nod.

  “All right, then.” His nod mirrored hers, and he jerked his arm away from Casey, much to the elder Faraday’s displeasure. “Now’s not the time to get me out of here.”

  “Adam—”

  “Listen to me.” Adam ran a frustrated hand through his overlong hair, leaving the unwashed strands sticking up in all directions. “It’s not the time, all right? And they’re not going to kill me.”

  “Oh? How do you do know that?” Casey’s big body vibrated with barely leashed anger, aggression radiating off him in waves that had Ilda clinging to the wooden slats, splinters digging into her fingertips.

  “It wasn’t Pipe’s decision to kidnap me.” Adam propped his hands on his hips and shook his head. “I don’t know if it was a favor or a paid job or what the deal is, but it sounds like there’s been some sort of... I dunno...falling out, so Pipe is pissed with a capital P.”

  “Who—”

  “I dunno, man. You need to pull Della in if you haven’t already, and sic her on any money trails between Pipe and someone who really hates us Faradays, I guess?” Adam’s tone was rife with agitation. “Anyway, Pipe being Pipe, he’s come up with a brilliant plan to get me off his hands, since he apparently doesn’t want me here any more than I want to be here. Go figure.” He paused. “I think he’s a minute away from figuring it all out, Case. Like, who you actually are. If he hasn’t already.”

  Stilling, Casey glanced first to Ilda, then Adam. “Oh, yeah?”

  “He looked at my face and didn’t particularly like it.” Adam tilted his head toward the light, showing off his bruises. “Gave me these himself once he caught a glimpse of my eyes. And now that I’ve seen your baby girl—”

  “Shit.”

  Cold dread sank its claws into Ilda’s stomach. “So...so Pipe knows.”

  “Maybe. Maybe not. No point in panicking right now.” Casey stowed his lockpicks, begrudgingly giving up on any plan to get Adam out of those shackles. “Pipe. What sort of brilliant plan to get rid of you are we talking about?”

  “An auction. Total black-market, word-of-mouth invitation only, in-person, on-the-DL type of shindig, set for this Friday night.”

  Friday night. Ilda struggled to keep her face a blank mask. Friday night, Pipe was supposed to be attending the Ascension Day charity auction and black-tie ball at the Teatro Metropolitano, not selling a human being to God only knew who and for what purpose.

  But Adam wasn’t done. “Think about it. The minute the various and sundry terrorist organizations of the world know a real-live Faraday is available for purchase, we’re fucked—I mean, imagine what the press will do with this if it’s made public—but Pipe stands to rake in millions. Maybe even billions.” Reaching out, he squeezed Casey’s shoulder. “Best bet is to buy me.”

  Billions. It was beyond comprehension, the sheer amount of money these two spoke of so casually. Ilda cleared her throat, feeling suddenly vulnerable, exposed where they stood, as if Pipe himself could see them. “Casí. We have to go.” She blinked against the unexpected tears and met Adam’s sympathetic gaze. “I’m so sorry. I... I’m...”

  He held out a hand, palm upward, and she grasped it, fingers clenching around his. “You keep our girl safe, yeah?”

  Again, words failed her, so she simply nodded. Already she cared about this young man, feared for him as she had long ago worried over her sister.

  A crash sounded from the main section of the stable, followed by raucous laughter and what sounded like a drunken rendition of Beyonce’s “Single Ladies.” The brigadiers had evidently decided to remember their duties.

  Ilda shot Casey a frantic look, but Adam remained calm. “Lock me in and go.” When it seemed as though Casey would argue, Adam shoved him through the stall door and closed it himself. “Go, dumbass.”

  Hissing under his breath, Casey reattached the padlock. “I’m coming back for you.”

  “I know.”

  Light edged around the corner from the aisle, the singing growing louder, and they were out of time. Fisting the fabric between her shoulder blades, Casey dragged her into the end stall, right on her heels as he grabbed for the sliding door. “Go, go, go,” he whispered, and shoved her through the door—right over the edge of the ravine, nothing but air beneath her feet, her body weightless with terror.

  On a silent scream, Ilda fell.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Casey sensed the moment Ilda lost her footing, the momentum from his push driving her forward into the treacherous ravine. Tightening his hold on her tank top, he yanked her backward, sliding the barn door closed as quietly as possible at the same time. As soon as that was done, he looped his arm around her waist and hauled her body against his, leaving her feet dangling off the ground.

  There was no time to lose, on the chance he hadn’t been as stealthy as he thought and the guards decided to investigate the door and what lay beyond. Steeling his grip on her, he grabbed the metal stake to his left and, planting one boot on the teensy path, swung them around the massive blue plastic rainwater tank affixed to the stable exterior. The metal stake, along with some questionable-looking bungee cords, kept the tank upright under the weight of the water it collected.

  Pivoting on the ball of his foot, he brought them to a sudden stop on the other side of the tank, their bodies hidden from view should the door open. Feet steady on the path, he shifted Ilda in his arms until he brought her shoulders to the exterior wall.

  Uncontrollable shaking had taken hold of her, adrenaline and fear coursing through her body. Concern gripped him by the throat, and he soothed her the only way he knew how. Crowding her up against the wall, he gently hooked her legs around his waist and her arms around his neck, and let her cling. He pressed as much of his weight as he dared into her, knowing she needed to feel secure, knowing his hulking body had always made her feel so in the past.

  His strength was good for many things, but none so vital in this moment as easing Ilda’s fear.

  Nuzzling her ear, he feathered kisses over her cheek, jaw, throat. “Can’t believe you already forgot what I said.” he whispered as he ran his hands comfortingly over her ribs, her hips and thighs. Up and down, back and forth. “I’ve got you, Ilda. I’ve always got you. Shh, now, shh.” She trembled so violently, her face tucked tight to the side of his neck, and he started to worry she wouldn’t calm, despite the fact that she clung to his torso like a monkey.

  “I f-fell.”

  Never. He’d never let her fall. “Nah, baby. Look at us standing here, safe and sound.” He adjusted his hold so one arm looped beneath her bottom, his other hand continuing to stroke a firm, reassuring pattern along her side, cotton to skin to cotton again. “You didn’t fall.”

  Her voice trembled below a whisper, but she was so close he needn’t strain to hear her. “Because you caught me.”

  “I never let go of you in the first place.” He listened intently for any sounds coming from within the stable, though nothing penetrated the thick old walls. Leaving Adam chained inside that dirty box of a stall went agains
t Casey’s every instinct, but he was smart enough to recognize the logic of the move.

  Adam had accepted in an instant what Casey struggled to see—that until Ilda was ready to leave Colombia with him, he couldn’t go. Before, he’d seen his heart as being pulled in opposite directions, that he’d need to surrender Ilda and Arlo in order to save Adam, or vice versa. But in a short few minutes, Adam had pulled the wool from his eyes and shown him that the three of them were a package deal. It was up to Casey to figure out how to liberate those he loved, in one fell swoop.

  He could do that. He would do that. “Let’s get you back to the hacienda.”

  If anything, she gripped him tighter, her thighs a heated vise that had him hardening against his will. The rush of action, the incredible nearness of her luscious body, the constancy of his need for her—worse now than it had ever been four years ago—it all wreaked havoc on his control, mental and physical. But he ignored it, had to, because this was not the time nor the place. They might be out of sight, but noise was still a factor, and Casey had done enough recon in the past two days to know there were cameras just around the corner. For all he knew, they picked up audio as well as video.

  He enjoyed a little bit of exhibitionism as much as the next guy, but he wasn’t a complete idiot. Not yet, anyway. He shook his head against her mulish resistance and placed his lips to her ear. “We can’t stay here.”

  “Please don’t move.” Her hips shifted against his, bringing his erection in contact with her barely covered center. “Not yet. I’m not ready yet.” Yearning layered her words, yearning and fear.

  It locked him in place as unyielding as the shackles binding Adam’s wrists. Worse still, she moved again, a melting of her softest place against his hardest, like a dance. He remembered how they danced before, and it always led to the same conclusion. “No, baby, don’t do that.” He stifled a groan as she committed to her writhing tease, grinding firmly over his cock. “It’s just the rush, the endorphins.”