Inferno : Ensenada Heat Book 1

by Tess Summers

“Cut the shit, tío. Where the fuck is she?”

  The look of surprise on the patrón’s face was unexpected. If he’d kidnapped Kennedy, he should have been anticipating this.

  “I don’t know to whom you’re referring, but I’m going to assume it’s your girl, and I can assure you, mijo, I am not behind whatever has happened.”

  The term of endearment caught him off-guard.

  “But it was your men… your helicopter…”

  His uncle shook his head. “Órale! Not my men. My helicopter is on the helipad on the roof—see for yourself.”

  Dante took his finger off the trigger and slid his pistol back into his waistband as he walked backward toward the door. Only once he’d cleared the threshold did he turn around and sprint to the stairs leading to the roof.

  When he burst through the door, his whole body slumped forward at the sight of the chopper sitting there. It was like the fight had been knocked out of him and helplessness began to set in.

  John was through the door seconds after Dante, and quickly came to the same conclusion as he looked at the occupied helipad.

  “The CIA grabbed her.”

  “That’s what it looks like.”

  “Why would they stage it to look like Ramon did it?”

  He shrugged, though his mind was racing a million miles an hour. “Maybe to confuse my men so they didn’t get in a gunfight. Or to confuse her.”

  Suddenly her words echoed in his head. “The agency would never let me live if I left to be with someone from the cartel.”

  “We’ve got to find her, John. Get your ear to the ground and see if you can locate that helicopter. That’ll be a good start.”

  “On it,” his friend said, and disappeared out the door.

  His uncle’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “What do you need from me?”

  “Find out how they knew she was there.”

  “Didn’t the American woman and police sergeant know?”

  “Yeah, but her agency only decided to come after her once she started helping me.”

  His uncle’s eyes grew wide. “How was she helping you?”

  Dante clenched his jaw, he’d already said too much. “Doesn’t matter. Just find out who the leak is. I know you have some of my staff on your payroll, Ramon. Press them about what they know.”

  His uncle smirked with the realization that Dante knew about the spies, but paused in the doorway to the stairs. “I can’t believe you’re doing all this for a woman.”

  “Not just a woman. The woman. The one. Mine.”

  His uncle shook his head. He would obviously never understand; he was a playboy bachelor, uninterested in settling down. Just like Dante had been until a little over a year ago, before a feisty, beautiful redhead rocked his world. Maybe someone would do the same to Ramon someday; then he’d get it. Until then, Dante would have to rely on family loyalty to be the catalyst for his uncle’s help.

  The family loyalty card might be a little too bent to play at the moment.

  He winced when he thought about pointing his gun at the head of the family. His father was going to have his ass when he found out how Dante had behaved—in his uncle’s own home, no less.

  “I’m sorry, tío. For the disrespect.”

  His uncle looked at him for a painstaking moment.

  “I understand you’re not exactly yourself right now. This is your one and only free pass.”

  Dante nodded humbly. “I appreciate your understanding.”

  Ramon smiled. “Let me go see what I can find out,” he said, then disappeared, leaving Dante to crawl out of his skin with frustration and worry.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Kennedy

  They hadn’t put the hood back over her head. She was doing her best to appear small, unaware, and demure—definitely not a threat to these big, strapping agents. Hehe.

  “It’d probably be frowned upon to have a little fun with her, huh?” she heard the broadest man there ask.

  The one from the East Coast—who seemed to be in charge—laughed. “I wouldn’t advise it. You might end up dickless.”

  “From her? Nah. I could take—I’d like to take her,” the broad guy chuckled, laughing at his own perverted joke.

  “Have you read her file?”

  They lowered their voices so she couldn’t make out everything they were saying, but she caught “handcuffed” and “bent over” and “desk.” She traced a cuff with her index finger. If that asshole came near her, his friend’s prediction of dickless was going to come true.

  Just keep underestimating me. That was definitely a regular occurrence throughout her career, and one she used to her advantage whenever possible. Unfortunately, Mr. East Coast seemed to have done his homework on her and wasn’t going to let his guard down as easily as the others. Probably the reason he was in charge.

  East Coast’s phone rang.

  “Yeah?” he answered, then quickly cast a glance at her.

  His face fell, along with her heart, but he quickly masked it, replying, “Yes, sir. I understand. That’s an affirmative,” then hanging up.

  “Pull the anchor, we’re moving,” he commanded before heading above deck, and Pervy and the others in the room rose to attend to their tasks.

  Her guess was they were never going to tell her about her impending death. It’d be quick; they’d take their pictures to confirm they’d completed their mission, then dump her body in the cold water. She looked around, trying to guess what she’d be weighted down with when they sank her to the ocean floor.

  She caught Pervy watching her as the others exited the room, and gave him a seductive grin. Any agent worth his salt would know exactly what she was up to, but she was counting on him thinking with his dick. Hopefully it’d been a while since he last got laid.

  Kennedy licked her lips and looked up at him through her lashes. The others were too busy preparing for launch to have noticed that their lecherous companion had not followed behind.

  She leaned forward so her cleavage was on display.

  “Do you think I could use the bathroom?”

  The corners of his mouth turned up, and she saw the outline of his cock under his fatigues. If he wasn’t going to kill her later, she might be impressed.

  “Sure thing, sugar tits—I mean, Agent Jones.”

  He looked around to make sure no one was watching, then bent down to help her up from her seated position on the floor, feeling her up in the process. Her wrists were handcuffed in front of her, but she managed to stroke his cock through his pants while pressing into his touch and moaning softly.

  He leaned over and ravaged her mouth with his, tweaking her nipple while she frantically rubbed his dick, making a show of not being able to do a good job with the shackles on. Not that she was going to need his help getting them off—it was all part of the vulnerable-girl illusion.

  “Bathroom?” she panted against his lips. She needed to act fast before they were too far away from shore.

  He slid his hand beneath her waistband and gruffly stuffed two fingers inside her pussy. Fortunately, she was wet. Her training had consisted of more than just slipping handcuffs.

  “Oh, fuck, you aren’t faking it, are you?”

  “Of course not,” she panted, grinding on his hand. “I’m so fucking hot for you.”

  He pulled on her arm with a meathead grin and escorted her out the door.

  East Coast was walking back in as they did, his eyebrows raised and a frown on his face.

  Pervy gestured his head toward her. “She’s gotta go to the bathroom.”

  The leader was suspicious. Smart man.

  “You sure you can handle her?”

  Pervy waved him off. “I got this, Hughes.”

  She’d already slipped a cuff. He was gonna get it, all right.

  Slipping the other, she kept her now-unrestrained hands in front of her as if she were still shackled. It’d been her experience that as long as she continued playing the part, no one realized anything un
til it was too late.

  Pervy already had his cock out when he pushed her into the small bathroom, which barely fit one person, let alone two. She sat on the toilet and began to immediately stroke his thick shaft. It really was extraordinary, as far as dicks went.

  “Mmm, let me suck your delicious cock, big boy,” she cooed, dipping her head and running her tongue up and down his shaft. He bent his elbows and gripped the sink behind him when she deep-throated him, muttering, “Fuck, yesssss.”

  She slurped him up and down, then stopped, purring, “I want to ride you.”

  He quickly switched positions with her, anxious for her to sink her pussy down onto his shaft. He never saw the chokehold coming.

  “This is what’s going to happen next, stud. When you wake up, you’re going to go to the deck and fire a round into the water. When everyone comes running, you’re going to say I slipped a cuff and grabbed for your gun, so you shot me, and I fell overboard. I’ll never resurface to refute your story, and you’ll never come looking for me, and we’ll both live a long, happy life. If you don’t go with the story, or if you ever come looking for me, I will kill you. We both know I’m way better at this than you. Blink twice if you understand.”

  He blinked twice, and she finished rendering him unconscious.

  Now for a brisk evening swim…

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Dante

  It was faster to take his uncle’s helicopter back to Ensenada—he’d be on the ground in Mexico in the same amount of time it would take to drive to the airport from Ramon’s estate. He and John were already in the air when they learned that the helicopter used to abduct Kennedy had been found near the marina. His most trusted men were ordered to scour the area and talk to anyone who might have seen anything—bribing or threatening them if necessary. Luckily Dante’s name carried more clout than almost anyone else’s in his seaside city, so people were willing to share what information they knew without much cajoling.

  They’d learned a yacht had gotten a slip at the marina yesterday, but currently it was nowhere to be found. Witnesses said it had pulled up anchor less than an hour ago and hadn’t returned. They also said the passengers were six males with athletic builds and short-cropped haircuts, in their twenties and thirties. They definitely fit the description.

  He had choppers in the sky searching for the ship, although he knew that was like looking for a needle in a haystack. His attention needed to be on the leak in his home, which needed to be plugged.

  “Eduardo, come in,” he said in mock welcome as two guards hauled their coworker forward, one holding each arm. The young man in their grip looked like he was about to soil himself. One of the men kidney-punched him, and he dropped to his knees.

  Dante paced in front of him, his hands behind his back, expression pensive.

  “Let’s talk about this money that appeared in your bank account a few days ago. I know I didn’t give you a bonus, and Ramon has confirmed he didn’t give you a bonus. Last I checked, all your relatives are still alive, which rules out an inheritance. So…” Dante sat on the corner of his desk and spread his hands in a questioning manner. “Wherever could it have come from?”

  “They threatened to kill my little girl,” the man sobbed from his penitent position.

  “Who?”

  “I don’t know—two Americans in mirrored aviators showed up at my house about six days ago offering me money. I refused, Mr. Guzman, I swear I did! But then they threatened my family… I just had to tell them when the woman got here—that was it. I swear I didn’t tell them anything else.”

  “Not about how you found us on the lawn?”

  “Well, I—” The kid’s eyes darted around the room, as if looking for an escape. “I might have mentioned that’s how I knew she was here.”

  Dante nodded knowingly, saying nothing further.

  Eduardo sniveled, “Are you going to kill me?”

  The estate owner opened his mouth, then closed it again with a grimace. After a minute, he answered truthfully. “I don’t know.”

  “I’ve got a daughter,” the man said, weeping openly. “She’s two.”

  Goddammit, this was why he wasn’t involved on this end of things. He didn’t have the stomach for it. Money, assets, spreadsheets, strategies—that was his forte, not this shit.

  Still, Kennedy was missing because of this man’s betrayal.

  With a menacing tone, Dante declared, “You better hope I find my Bella alive and well. If I don’t… your headless corpse will be hanging from a bridge.”

  “I didn’t want anything bad to happen to her! I thought she’d be safe here. I thought she’d be protected.”

  Those words were like a knife to his stomach. He should have been here to protect her.

  “Get him out of here,” Dante snarled. The guards dragged Eduardo from his office, not even letting the man regain his footing.

  “We’ll find her, D,” John said softly from his position on the couch.

  “I know,” he replied with a sigh, running his fingers through his hair before pouring a glass of whiskey. But is she going to be alive when we do?

  “The yacht is back in the marina,” John said, looking at a text on his phone. “Six men got off; no sign of her.”

  “Are they the men in the security footage?”

  He could tell John was warring with what to say.

  Dante sighed, slamming his whiskey tumbler down a little harder than he’d intended.

  “Just fucking tell me. I know you want to protect me, but give it to me straight. You’re the one person I can always rely on to do that.”

  John took a deep breath. “From the pictures Hector just sent, I would say yes.”

  With a sweep of his arm, the contents of his desk went flying across the room. The sound of his whiskey glass shattering against the wall blended with his roar of anguish and rage as his papers slowly floated to the floor.

  “Dante, how many times did you underestimate her, only to have her hand you your ass? And you know her. I’ll bet anything these men did the same thing, and she escaped.”

  His gut was telling him she was alive, but he was worried it was just wishful thinking.

  “Have them do an air sweep of the water five square miles from the marina,” he ordered quietly, not looking at his friend. “One hundred thousand dollars to whoever finds her.”

  He wouldn’t rest until he found her—dead or alive.

  ****

  Kennedy

  The ship wasn’t far from shore when she dove overboard. Still, the cold water made the swim back to land exhausting, and she collapsed on the sand, overcome with fatigue.

  Keni was unsure what time it was when she woke, but it felt like the middle of the night. She needed to find a place to hole up and plan her next move.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Dante

  It’d been twenty-one agonizing days since Kennedy was taken from him, and he’d been a bear to be around ever since. The constant stream of liquor that had been coursing through his blood for three weeks straight probably wasn’t helping things.

  Eduardo was still alive, but only because Dante believed ordering his death was like conceding she was dead, and he just couldn’t accept that. It didn’t mean the young man wasn’t made an example of what happened to those who betrayed the Guzmans—he probably wished he was dead. Still, getting your ass beat was a far cry better than sitting in a vat of acid, which was what Ramon had suggested.

  John had been a good friend. He had stayed in Ensenada most nights, flying back and forth to San Diego to attend to business in the States and, Dante suspected, squeeze in time to see Laila when he could. Good for Turner. If anybody deserved happiness, it was his oldest and best friend.

  Sleep eluded the Mexican most of the time, so he was either inebriated or beyond exhausted when he would finally make his way to his room, oftentimes choosing to sleep on the leather couch in his den instead. Being in his big bed without her next to him was painful.
He hadn’t allowed Rosa or Maria to change the sheets, and he could still catch her scent on them sometimes. He savored that.

  It was well after midnight—again—and the two men were in Dante’s office. John never complained, no matter how late Dante kept him up, although he suspected his friend was exhausted tonight. John tried to stifle a yawn.

  “I’m sorry, mi amigo. Go to bed,” he apologetically ordered.

  “Nah, I’m fine.”

  “No, I’m going to turn in too. We’ve got a big day tomorrow, I’ve got the conference call about the dispensary permits, and then I need to get with the builder.”

  He shut the lights off in the den, and they made their way to the stairs.

  Outside the guest suite, John said, “Why don’t you let me handle the builder, D?”

  Dante clutched his friend’s shoulder with gratitude.

  “Because you’ve got enough to deal with, and I need to keep busy or I’m going to lose my mind.”

  “Understood. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  John closed the suite’s door, and with a heavy sigh, Dante started toward his room. He stood outside in the hall, gathering the mettle to go into the master suite. He both loved being in there and hated it—everything reminded him of her.

  Taking a deep breath with his eyes closed, he pushed the door open and stepped inside. His heart skipped a beat at the obvious lump under his covers, and he approached cautiously, his gun drawn.

  It was Kennedy’s delicate face peeking out from the blankets. He set his gun on the nightstand, blinking several times in case his eyes were deceiving him; then, gathering her in his arms, he sent a silent prayer of thanks to the man above.

  ****

  Kennedy

  She’d slipped into the house undetected during security’s eleven o’clock shift change, and snuck into Dante’s room. There she proceeded to strip naked and nestle into his high-thread-count sheets and cozy comforter.

  The last three weeks had been spent in a constant state of alert, never sleeping for more than a few hours—and only when she could hole up somewhere she felt safe enough doing so. Immediately returning to the estate after she dove off the deck of the yacht wasn’t an option. She wasn’t sure if Pervy would follow her orders—perhaps he had even been discovered unconscious before he’d been able to do as she’d instructed. Kennedy knew she couldn’t chance going back to the estate right away, although she desperately wanted to reach out to Dante and let him know she was all right. But doing so was too risky.