Hold Me: A mafia romance (Collateral Book 2)

by LP Lovell

  I skirt the edge of the gardens, walking out into the eucalyptus grove. The sun dances between the leaves of the trees, and I pick one, crushing it between my fingers until the fragrant scent of the sap wafts around me.

  I know Lucas is out here somewhere, as well as the two unknown guards I expect. That uneasy feeling hasn’t dissipated, and I find myself glancing over my shoulder every two seconds, suspicious of everything. It’s just because Rafael’s gone, I tell myself. When he’s around, I truly feel as though nothing and no one could touch me. I’m not sure anyone would dare, but the last time he left...

  I feel like a favored lamb left unguarded by her lion, and now the wolves are waiting to take a bite. I know it’s ridiculous. Rafael said that this house is like a hilltop fortress. No one would attack here, and unlike last time, he left his best men here.

  I force myself to walk further into the eucalyptus grove, to feel the dry grass beneath my toes and the sun on my skin. It’s been a while since I walked in the gardens. I walk to the very end of the grove, where the low wall separates the grass from the sheer drop of the hillside beyond. Resting my elbows on it, I stare out at the rocky desert stretching far below us. The flat expanse runs for miles before it meets another cliff face, a rock formation that seems to reach high into the sky, forming a mountainous ridge. It’s vast and beautiful. There’s no sign of life anywhere, as far as the eye can see.

  In my periphery, I see Lucas move beside me, resting his back against the wall. I can feel his eyes on me, but I don’t look at him.

  “It’s hot as fuck out here,” he mumbles, making my lips twitch in the shadow of a smile.

  “Why do you Mexicans keep complaining about the heat?”

  He snorts. “We may live here, but there is such a thing as air conditioning. Why do you like the sun so much, Russian?”

  I glance at him. “I didn’t see it for a very long time.”

  He instantly looks mortified. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”

  I smile. “It’s okay. Do you want me to go back inside?”

  He swipes a hand over the back of his neck. “No, it’s okay.”

  “Did Carlos go with Rafael?”

  Lucas shakes his head. “No, the boss made him stay here. He’s pissed. He’s not used to staying in the expensive houses, you know? He prefers the streets.”

  I nod. “He feels out of place.”

  Lucas shrugs one shoulder. “Yeah. We were raised poor. Sometimes you almost feel guilty for having more. Especially when you earn your money doing this.” He kicks at the grass beneath his feet.

  I glance out over the desert again. “We all do what we have to in order to survive, Lucas. There’s no shame in that.” Lucas, Carlos, Rafael…they’re not good men, but they aren’t bad men either. They’re just taking the only opportunities handed to them.

  “Thanks.” I glance at him, at the wide gawky grin on his face. A bang splits the air, and it sounds almost like the cracking of a whip. The smile falls from Lucas’ face, and he glances down. I follow his gaze to his stomach where a red spot is slowly spreading, getting bigger and bigger.

  “Lucas!” He drops to the ground, landing on his back on the grass. His mouth opens and closes like he’s trying to speak but can’t. “Lucas!” Shot. He’s been shot. I press my hands over his stomach where warm blood pools between my fingers. Through my tear-blurred vision, I glance at his ghostly-pale face. Where the hell are the other guards? I glance around, but I can’t see anyone. In a panic, I pat Lucas’ pocket and find his phone. With trembling fingers, I manage to dial Carlos’ number and put it on speakerphone so I can press both hands over Lucas’ stomach.

  “Little bro,” Carlos says.

  “Carlos,” I sob. “He’s been shot. I can’t…there’s so much blood.”

  “Where are you?”

  “The –”

  Something covers my mouth, and I thrash wildly as a horrible chemical smell makes my eyes water. My vision blurs, my mind swirls, and the last thing I see before everything goes black is Lucas’ bleeding form lying in the grass.

  12

  Rafael

  My phone vibrates in my pocket, but I ignore it.

  “Twenty-five percent,” Jimmy’s replacement says.

  I glance at Samuel who is standing beside me. His lips twitch, and I laugh. “The balls on this little fucker.” These little street gangs. Honestly, they run a few drugs, make some money, kill a few guys, and they think they’re the shit. Irritatingly, this particular gang makes up fifty percent of my Juarez revenue. Hence, I’m dealing with this shit myself.

  Sam shrugs. “No respect, boss.”

  My phone vibrates again, pissing me off. I look at the kid sitting across from me, the shitty tattoos up the side of his face, some crap scrawled illegibly over his forehead. “You’ll get fifteen, the same as I agreed with Jimmy, and if I get any shit on your patch, you’re out.” He frowns, eyeing me up and down before he reluctantly nods his head. “Good. I now own you.”

  Samuel turns away from us, taking his phone from his pocket and glancing at the screen. “Boss, we have to go.” There’s urgency to his voice, an undertone of panic that no one else would hear, but I know him.

  “We’ll be in touch,” I say to the kid, pushing to my feet. I don’t wait for a response before I’m striding from the shitty little bar, fastening the buttons on my jacket. Samuel falls into step beside me.

  “Anna’s been taken.” My heart seizes in my chest, and everything around me fades to nothing more than a low hum. Anna’s been taken. A fear unlike anything I’ve ever felt grips me in its clutches, squeezing the air from my lungs. I force the impending panic down and close the lid on it. In its place is nothing but icy focus, and that’s exactly what I need. My heart rattles against my ribs like a caged animal hammering at the bars I’ve just erected around it. I can’t think with anything other than my head right now.

  I stride outside and yank the back door of the car open. “Who has her?” I get in the car, and Samuel slides in behind me, slamming the door.

  He presses a few buttons on his phone, and a dial tone fills the car.

  “Yeah.” It’s Carlos, and he sounds…fragile.

  “Tell me everything,” I say.

  There’s a pause. “I…Lucas got shot,” he chokes.

  I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. Carlos is family, which makes Lucas family. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. “Is he…?” Samuel can’t speak the words.

  “I’m not sure he’s going to make it. They took him to the hospital,” Carlos whispers. Samuel glances at me, and I shake my head. All I can think about is Anna. “They shot Michael and Enrique as well. They’re dead. Anna’s gone.”

  My fists tighten until my knuckles crack and ache under the strain. “Who?”

  Carlos is silent for a second. “She called me. Before they took her. She called from Lucas’ phone to tell me he’d been shot.” Of course she did. How many fucking times did I tell her to run? “I heard muffled voices over the phone, but I couldn’t make anything out. Maybe an accent?” That doesn’t mean shit.

  “It’s Dominges,” I growl.

  “I don’t know, Rafe. They got in and out without anyone else seeing them. I can’t work out how they even got near the place without being seen. The bullet I just pulled out of Enrique is a 25. cal bullet. Rare. Specialized. These aren’t some street gang bangers.”

  “He’s hired men before. It’s him.” I know it is. I can still picture his face—the way he looked at Anna like she was the goddamn Golden Fleece.

  “What do you want to do?” Samuel asks.

  I tap my index finger over my bottom lip, willing my emotions to take a back seat. “Carlos. Gather some men. Go to Dominges townhouse. Kill everyone. Bring the woman.”

  “Yes, boss.” The phone cuts off, and I clench and release my fists as the unfamiliar feeling of helplessness consumes me.

  I don’t look at Sam as I speak. “Call in everyone. Send word to our guys
on the border. They’ll probably try and get her out of Mexico.” Out of my reach.

  He starts tapping over the screen of his phone, rallying the troops.

  “Rafe, you have to call Nero.” I glare at him. My mind is a complete mess, and I can barely grasp hold of a coherent thought. All I can see is Anna, and the worst thing is that when I think of her with some strange men, I don’t see her crying or begging. I see that glazed, non-existent look in her eyes as she slowly loses herself. I’m terrified that everything she’s become will be lost to me forever if I can’t get her back fast enough. “You have to,” Samuel repeats.

  “I know!” Fuck, I don’t want to call Nero, but Una needs to know. Dominges knows who Anna is. He wants her because he knows it’ll get him Una. I can handle Dominges. I can get her back, but Una is my best back up.

  Taking my phone from my pocket, I dial his number and wait impatiently as it rings. I don’t want to be the person who has to tell Una Ivanov that I lost her sister, but I’m running out of options, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get Anna back as quickly as possible. It goes to voicemail.

  “Fuck!” I call again, listening to the dial tone drone on and on.

  The line clicks. “Uh, the bosses phone,” a guy with an Irish accent, answers the phone.

  “I need to speak to Nero. Now.”

  “He’s busy right now.”

  “Well fucking disturb him. Tell him its Rafael."

  There’s a rustling over the line before he shouts. “Boss.”

  “I’m fucking busy, Tommy. I’ll call back,” Nero growls.

  “But, boss…”

  “God-fucking-damn, Tommy!” Apparently, his temper is short today.

  “It’s Rafael,” the Irish guy mumbles.

  “Gio, shoot him if he moves,” Nero says, his voice closer now. “This is not a fucking good time,” he snaps into the phone.

  “Anna’s gone.”

  “What? How?”

  “I had four men on her. Three were found shot half an hour ago. I’ve called in scouts from the edges of my territory and put a call out at the border. I’ll get her back, but I'm keeping you in the loop.”

  “Shit. Fucking get her back, Rafael or you and I are going to have a mutual problem in the form of Una.” I hang up and toss the phone down on the back seat.

  “Get your best guys to the Sinaloa compound. Now,” I order Sam.

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  “Undoubtedly,” I say. He nods and presses a few buttons before placing the phone to his ear. The low hum of his voice slips into the background.

  “Take us to Los Zepata,” I say to the driver. He turns the car down a narrow alleyway, driving us toward the very Sinaloa compound that Anna was kept in. I know Dominges will be there. He likes to roll around in the filth and squalor of his own corrupt world. I close my eyes and picture Anna’s face until it morphs into an image of him behind her, stalking her. The smile on her face slips, fear taking over her beautiful features. I slam my fist against the door and wish it were his jaw.

  “Rafe, you need to keep it together,” Sam warns.

  “I’m going to kill him.”

  Samuel takes a deep breath. “You have to tread carefully. You can’t start a war over…”

  I turn on him. “Over what?”

  He eyes me carefully. “Over a girl.”

  I laugh humorlessly. “A girl?”

  “What is she then?”

  “She’s my fucking woman,” I roar. “I will slaughter his entire cartel and bathe in their blood to get her back.” His brows hike up, and his mouth opens and then closes again. “They come onto my property. Again. They take her. They shoot my men.” I shake my head, grappling with the blinding rage that threatens to consume me. “Figure out where the fuck your loyalties lay, Samuel. If you’re not with me, you’re against me.”

  “Was that a threat, Rafe?” he snaps.

  My hand flies to his throat in a heartbeat, squeezing hard. He stares straight at me—his brows pinched tightly and his face turning red. “It was a simple statement. Stand in my way, and I’ll go through you. Friend or not.” I force myself to release him and toss my head back against the seat. My vision is tinted red, my blood hammering through my veins like a runaway train.

  Sam coughs slightly, dragging heavy breaths into his lungs. “You always have my loyalty, you prick,” he growls. “I just don’t want to see you get killed because you’re going off half-cocked.”

  Silence permeates the car and guilt niggles at me, but all I can think of is her. “I love her,” I say quietly.

  He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, no shit, man.” I glance at him, and he rubs a hand over his neck. “We’ll get her back.”

  “What if I can’t?” Fuck, this is horrible. It feels like someone has reached inside my chest and wrapped their fingers around my heart. They could crush it at any minute, and I’m completely helpless to do a damn thing about it. I’ve never been so exposed or vulnerable. I’ve never felt so weak.

  Sam’s brows pull together, and he shakes his head. “We will. You’re Rafael D’Cruz. Pull your shit together, put your game face on, and destroy this motherfucker.” He slaps my shoulder, and I nod. He’s right. Anna doesn’t need me to be the guy who’s in love with her right now. At this moment, I have to be the big bad cartel boss. I have to be every bit as awful as she once accused me of being. And for her, it’ll be no effort at all.

  I lean against the front of the Hummer and wait. Sam stands beside me, a pair of binoculars pressed to his face.

  “Any second now,” he says quietly. I count to fifteen in my head before the low rumble of an explosion ripples in the distance, vibrating the ground beneath my feet. I close my eyes, inhaling the faint scent of burning, picturing the chaos at my fingertips.

  Sam is completely silent, watching everything unfold. Occasionally he mumbles something into the earpiece he’s wearing: guiding, ordering.

  “Okay, we’re good,” he finally says. I round the Hummer and jump in the passenger seat. Samuel guides the car down the hillside between bedraggled buildings covered in graffiti. The road drops down for a mile or so and then winds up to the front of the compound. The chain link metal gates are wide open, the smoking bodies of two men sprawled a little way back from them. Samuel pulls the car into the compound, and we simply have to follow the trail of bodies and destruction to the main building.

  Getting out of the car, I swipe my hand down the front of my jacket and remove my sunglasses. I take out a cigar and place it between my lips, lighting it. As I inhale the thick smoke, I try to calm myself, to center this simmering rage that threatens to bubble over at the slightest provocation. Because Dominges will provoke me, and it will force my hand.

  One of Samuel’s guys stands outside the door to the building, dressed head to toe in black combat gear. My cartel is not a gang of street thugs. It’s an army. One I only ever unleash when absolutely necessary. Dominges just pushed a big red button, and now he’s seeing the consequences.

  I make my way inside the building, which looks like a small office block. Another of my men holds the elevator, and we get in. I watch as the numbers tick up to the fourth floor. The doors glide open to reveal a mundane-looking lobby with a couple of potted plants and desks. Shitty artwork hangs on the walls, and I almost laugh. Why bother to make this look like some kind of legit office building when only a few feet away is the brothel where he forces his slaves to fuck men?

  I open the door to what looks like the main office and find Dominges leaning against his desk, three of his men with their back to the wall, guns drawn and pointed at a handful of Samuel’s guys. I smirk and toss my cigar to the carpet, watching as it burns a hole through the ragged material. I crush the smoldering butt beneath my toe and glance at Dominges. He has a smug grin on his face as though he isn’t somehow backed into a corner.

  “Rafael, you’re going to die for this.”

  I laugh. “Really?” I glance at his men who are shifting uncomfo
rtably. He may be full of false bravado, but they’re not.

  “I’ve already contacted my brother. The second you stormed these gates, you were a dead man. The entire Sinaloa is going to hunt you like a dog.” He grins.

  I take my gun from my holster and place the barrel against his head. The tension in the room ratchets as every single man has the urge to pull their trigger, and yet no one wants to be the one to fire the first shot. It’s that tentative fine line between life and death. The odds are really in no one’s favor here. Except mine.

  “You only make it worse for yourself, Rafael.”

  I ram the gun beneath his chin and force his head back. “Look around you, Dominges. I don’t give a fuck what your brother does, and neither should you, considering your brains will soon be all over that wall if you don’t give me what I want.”

  He narrows his eyes. “And what is it you want?” I don’t have the patience for this.

  I aim at his thigh and pull the trigger. A single shot goes off somewhere behind me, and I grab Dominges, hauling him up against me as a body shield. His men won’t shoot him. Several more shots follow, and when I look up, it’s to see all his men on the floor and one of mine.

  Dominges clutches at his thigh, his face turning red. “I know you fucking have her!” I shout.

  Blood pools between his fingers and a hacking laugh slips from his lips. “So you lost a helpless whore?”

  My hand slams around his throat, and he just grins at me. “You take my woman, and I take yours.”