The Vargas Cartel Trilogy: Books 1 - 3

by Lisa Cardiff

  “¡Por supuesto!”

  ”Look, Hattie. He brought you food,” Ryker said, glancing over his shoulder before he returned his attention to Ricardo. “Gracias.”

  The man smiled at me, a wide welcoming smile, displaying a gold-capped front tooth. “Su novio es hermosa.”

  “Si, gracias.”

  Ryker pivoted to me again. “Say thank you to Ricardo.”

  “Why?”

  “He said you’re beautiful.”

  I folded my arms across my chest. “I guess he’s into the dirty, unkempt look.”

  “You look fine. I cleaned you up last night.”

  I gawked at Ricardo. He had a huge smile on his face. He probably thought he’d earned a lifetime of favors by accommodating the son of the head of the Vargas Cartel and his girlfriend. “Gracias,” I muttered, trying to smile, but I think it came out more like a grimace given the look on his face.

  Ryker handed me the tray of food. “Will this work?”

  “I prefer a lighter breakfast, but it will work.” It was a lie. I’d eat my hand if I had to, but I hated accepting anything from him, even if I was desperate.

  Ryker raised one eyebrow. “Lighter?” he questioned.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I usually eat yogurt with chia seeds and fresh fruit.”

  “I don’t think they have that,” he snapped before accompanying Ricardo out of the room, closing the door behind him.

  The room didn’t have a table, so I sat down on the bed and surveyed the food—eggs, toast, ham, and freshly squeezed orange juice. It would do just fine.

  By the time Ryker returned, I had scraped my plate clean. As he sat next to me on the bed, I kept my eyes lowered, staring at my bare plate and empty glass like the answer to the universe would be found somewhere in the crumbs or film of orange liquid coating the bottom of my glass.

  He held out a bottle of water. “Here,” he said. “You’re probably still thirsty.”

  I nodded my thanks but never met his eyes. My unease vibrated through the room, taking on a life of its own. So many issues dangled in the air: my escape, my capture, my future, but most disconcerting was the fact that I practically begged him to touch me again. All of it hung around my neck like a noose waiting for the right moment to squeeze the life out of me.

  As my mind raced, his cold, gray eyes never looked away. I squirmed under his knowing stare. I considered what he saw. I questioned what he was thinking. I wondered what he planned to do with me. I debated what happened to the gun I stole from his room. I couldn’t take the silence any longer. “Why don’t you have an accent?” I finally said, blurting out the first inane thought that entered my head.

  “My mother is an American. I lived with her during the school year, and I lived with Ignacio during the summer.”

  “They weren’t married?” I asked, fidgeting with my hands.

  “No.” He didn’t elaborate.

  “What about your brother? Where did he live?”

  “With Ignacio and his wife. We don’t have the same mother.”

  “Oh. Where does your mom live?”

  “Connecticut now, but New York when I was younger.”

  “How did they meet?” I didn’t have a clue why I wanted to ask these questions. Maybe I wanted to avoid heavier topics. Maybe I hated the charged silence, or maybe I wanted to know something about the man who repeatedly frayed my self-control and inspired my hate and lust in equal measure.

  “At a photo shoot at a hotel owned by Dad’s family. My mom was a model. He saw her, and the rest was history. She fell in love. He had a wife. He refused to leave her.”

  “Even when she got pregnant?” I shouldn’t have continued the interrogation. It wasn’t my business.

  He paused, not answering for a prolonged second. “She gave him an ultimatum and he let her walk.”

  “Oh.”

  “Is that enough personal information for you?”

  “Sorry.” My eyes shot up. The minute my eyes met his, I was sorry I didn’t have more control over my body. He held his stubborn jaw on an angle, and his faint smile parted his deceptively seductive mouth, exposing a hint of his white teeth. He was shockingly handsome, and the fact that I even noticed at a time when my life was dangling from a thread unsettled me more than I wanted to admit.

  “Am I making you uncomfortable?”

  “No,” I said glaring at him, battling every disconcerting emotion with every last bit of willpower I had buried in the depths of my soul.

  “Now, that’s a lie if I’ve ever heard one.” Before I had the opportunity to move, two of his surprisingly gentle fingertips brushed across my mouth, and I tensed, refusing to allow my body to respond. Despite my intentions, the heat of his touch spread like an inferno through my body, and I wanted to move away. I really did, but I didn’t do a thing.

  He bent his head toward mine until less than an inch remained between our foreheads. For some reason, the lingering distance was more lethal than if our skin actually made contact. Maybe it was the anticipation of his touch, or that his steely gray eyes were mesmerizing. I couldn’t explain it, but his mere presence paralyzed me.

  He slid the handmade headband from my hair, dropping it on the bed. “Better,” he whispered, his eyes searching mine. “I like the way your hair frames your face.”

  I swallowed hard, trapped in the prison of his too watchful eyes.

  “What are you afraid of? What do you think is going to happen right now?” His forehead finally brushed mine, and I held my breath.

  Do not breathe.

  Do not breathe.

  Ignore him.

  Ignore his tantalizing scent.

  Ignore his hypnotic eyes.

  Ignore the sound of his voice.

  “Do you think I’m going to take advantage of you?”

  His dark velvet voice meandered down my spine, and I tensed my muscles, hoping to fend off my reaction. “I wouldn’t be surprised. You have a track record of doing exactly that.” I tried to sound indifferent. I even accompanied my words with an exaggerated eye roll, but the words had a mind of their own. They came out wobbly and unconvincing.

  “Are you sure about that?”

  “Yes, and you know it. You take advantage of me whenever you sense even the faintest hint of vulnerability.”

  “Are you telling me you’re vulnerable right now?”

  I pressed the palm of my hand against his chest, trying to maintain even a small fragment of space. He was too close. Too overwhelming. Too imposing. Too heart-stopping. Too everything.

  “Why are you doing this? You don’t want me. This is about finishing the job…getting that precious pardon for your brother. You’re just trying to…” I fisted the fabric of his shirt in hand, twisting it, madly searching for the magic words to combat him. “I don’t know,” I whispered.

  “Trying to what? Kiss you? Kill you? Seduce you? Make you forget?” he said in his signature low, rugged voice that never failed to melt me from the inside out.

  “All of the above. I don’t know anymore. I’m confused. You confuse me. Whatever this is between us confuses me,” I admitted. The minute the words fell out of my mouth, I groaned. But that didn’t stop my body from drifting toward him like a magnet, unable to resist his lure. What was wrong with me?

  A spine-tingling smile burst across his face, and I practically tasted my capitulation, both bitter and sweet as it coated my tongue. From the smirk on his face, he realized it too. Evidently, when it came to Ryker, I was Pavlov’s dog responding every time he rang that fucking bell. No matter his tactics, no matter how much he annoyed me, no matter if he planned to kill me, I surrendered every time he summoned me.

  “Stop fighting me. You know you don’t want to.”

  He was a snake charmer. Didn’t he realize I couldn’t fight him? I shook my head, rejecting him, but he realized it was symbolic in nature, not an actual rejection. My eyes fluttered closed, embracing my defeat. He’d spun the web, and I was his willing victim, tang
led in his silky prison.

  The minute his lips grazed mine, my body came alive, and I fought back with the only weapon I had—my body. I became the aggressor. My mouth opened, searching, demanding, raiding, and he let me in. In an instant, his tongue slid against mine, and I sucked, bit, and took everything he offered and more, because he’d already stolen everything from me.

  He gave just as good as he got, battling me with his mouth and hands, taking what he wanted and giving only what he wanted. He fought dirty, and within seconds, a hunger unlike anything I’d ever felt blazed through every cell in my body.

  “I hate you,” I said against his mouth, even as my hands pulled him closer. It was the truth. I hated that I failed to say no to him. I hated that he’d hijacked my life. But most of all, I hated that he made me feel more alive than Evan ever had. Even when our relationship was shiny and new, I’d never experienced the raw, white-knuckling desperation I felt with Ryker. For Ryker.

  “I know,” he responded, his eyes stormy and urgent like thunderstorms gathering on the edge of the horizon. He shoved me onto my back, and his body followed, hovering over me, watching me, challenging me, and I fought.

  Wrapping my legs around his waist, I arched into him. “I wish I never met you.” My hands slipped under the hem of his shirt, gliding over the chiseled peaks and valleys of his sculpted chest. As much as I wanted to touch him, I wanted to hurt him. I raked my nails down his chest, but he didn’t flinch. He didn’t even blink. Fucker.

  “I know.” His mouth moved to my neck and goose bumps scattered down my arms. Why did my body betray me time and time again with Ryker?

  I rocked against him, one hand fisted in his hair, and the other yanked on the front of his shirt. I would rather spontaneously combust than ask him for anything, but my body literally ached for more contact, more of him. Mercifully, he understood me, moving against me with punishing force.

  I didn’t know how long we continued our twisted game…battling each other, manipulating each other. As hard as I pushed, he’d push back, not taking it any further than he wanted. Instead, we were like two hamsters going round and round…kissing, licking, touching, and grinding against each other, over and over, replay after replay, but nothing more.

  Control.

  Dominance.

  Superiority.

  You name it; we battled for it. Instead of using weapons, we used our mouths, our hands, our bodies, and our minds…until fire licked my hyper-sensitized flesh and every nerve ending prickled with both pleasure and pain.

  Frustration mushroomed inside of me, bit by bit, second by second. A freefall of rioting and contradictory emotions crossed swords inside my mind. My ability to think logically failed, splintering like a paper-thin piece of wood. I was self-destructing under his assault.

  Frantic to shift the pendulum in my direction, I tore at his belt buckle, my hands shaky from the fog of lust coloring my common sense—and that’s when everything stopped.

  In a split second, he jerked my hands above my head and pinned them against the headboard. His hands were like rings of iron, imprisoning me. He bent his head next to my ear, his warm breath, whispering against the side of my face. “No more, Hattie. This is over,” he said. The words felt like a slap across my face.

  “No.” I didn’t recognize my voice. It resembled a primitive battle cry more than a protest. “It’s not over until I say it’s over.”

  “No, that’s where you’re wrong. This is my game, my world. You only win what I want to give. Nothing more.”

  My lust exploded in a burst of volcanic rage. I kicked and bucked and everything in between, but he was stronger, easily overpowering me. Strings of curses and taunts fell like poison from my lips.

  His hand cupped my mouth, smothering my rants. I bit his hand, breaking the skin, but he didn’t cave. Fuck, he didn’t even flinch. “Stop this. This is hard for me too. I don’t want to keep fighting with you, but I will.”

  His eyes raked over my face with equal parts anger and violence. I believed him. He’d won. Accepting defeat, my muscles uncoiled one by one and he lifted his hand from my mouth. I sucked in giant gasps of air trying to expunge Ryker’s mind games. Beat by beat my heart slowed to a normal rhythm.

  “Take a shower and clean yourself up. I have a few things to do before we head back to the villa.”

  “If you don’t want to deal with me, why did you come after me? You should’ve left me in the jungle. We both know I never would’ve made it out of there alive.” Even to my ears, I sound lost. Shattered. Broken.

  “You’re the leverage to secure my brother’s release.” He shifted his body and sat up on the edge of the bed, his face turned away from me. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Be dressed and ready.”

  “My clothes are dirty.” I don’t understand why I said it. What I did or didn’t wear was inconsequential.

  “There’s a change of clothes in the bathroom along with a few other toiletries.” He stalked toward the door, his hands buried deep in his pockets.

  “I don’t want anything from you.” I lied.

  “Good thing I found the gun you stole from my room. I wouldn’t want you to be burdened with it either.”

  I hurled a pillow in his direction, but it caught in netting and fell unceremoniously to the floor. “I’m not doing anything you want, not a fucking thing.”

  “Just shower and put on the clothes. We can argue about what you do and don’t want later.” The door slammed, reverberating through the room. All my strength depleted, I sagged under the weight of my situation.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Numb…that’s how I felt when I slipped on a pair of too short jean shorts and a too large t-shirt. The lukewarm shower water had stung every inch of my bruised and battered skin, and as I stared into the peeling mirror, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me.

  Purple circles stained the skin under my bloodshot eyes. Red scratches marred my right cheekbone, and three butterfly bandages dotted the length of my neck. I looked like serious arm candy…just as Ricardo said. A bitter laugh escaped my mouth, startling me.

  Expelling a monster breath, I exited the bathroom. I expected to find Ryker waiting for me, but he wasn’t in the room. The hum of a car idling outside my window caught my attention. Maybe Ryker already left, and he planned to meet me outside.

  I walked toward the open window. The rusted, three decade-old blue sedan was empty. Before I could second-guess my actions, I placed both of my hands on the window frame and threw one leg over the windowsill. For a few ticks of time that felt like an eternity; my body straddled the windowsill as my mind weighed my options, relentlessly analyzing my next move.

  To hell with Ryker. I was leaving. I climbed out the window, hanging from the ledge before I jumped. My swollen ankle screamed, but I kept moving. Within seconds, I sat behind the wheel of the car. I didn’t waste time. I shoved the gear into drive and slammed my foot on the gas pedal so hard I thought it might crash through the rusted metal floorboard.

  Clouds of brown dust rolled upward behind the car as I drove over the gravel road. I wasn’t delusional. Ryker would realize I had run again within minutes, if not seconds, but the thought didn’t stop me. If Ryker wanted me, he had to work for it. Sure, he’d probably find me and punish me, but I refused to rollover and accept my fate—not when I still had viable options.

  Palm tree canopies shaded the road. Green vines snaked up the tree trunks. Hints of the startling cerulean sky penetrated the green miasma. I couldn’t see a damn thing, but the road had to lead me somewhere, so I kept driving. The rough dirt road combined with the never-ending twists and turns forced me to proceed slower than I wanted.

  Second after second, the tires ate up the dirt road until I no longer saw the bed and breakfast in the rear view mirror. The invisible chain links around my body snapped one by one and my breath evened out. Holy shit. I was doing it. I was going to beat Ryker and the entire Vargas Cartel with only my mind and a rusted out blue sedan.
I didn’t have a gun, but I had a car.

  With one hand on the steering wheel, I popped the center console, searching for a map or anything that steered me back to civilization. Blindly, I emptied the contents on the seat next to me.

  An empty pack of gum.

  A few used tissues.

  A pen.

  A phone charger.

  Nothing…

  Leaning to the side, while keeping my eyes trained on the road, I opened the glove box, and my heart slammed against the walls of my chest. A cell phone. It was old…the kind with a flip front and barely-existent screen, but as long as it worked long enough to call a number or two, I didn’t care.

  My hands shaking, I opened the phone and dialed my dad’s number plus the international code from memory. My dad didn’t participate in the video conference yesterday, but I still thought he was my best option.

  With every ring, my heart climbed the walls of my chest.

  One ring.

  Two rings.

  “Come on…pick up.” I squeezed the phone tighter and tighter.

  Three rings.

  “Dad, answer your fucking phone,” I screamed as I white-knuckled the steering wheel with my free hand.

  Four rings.

  “Beep.”

  “No,” I yelled.

  “You’ve reached Richard Covington’s voicemail, please leave a message.”

  “Dad, it’s Hattie. Where are you? I need you. I’m lost. I don’t know where I am.” I started to disconnect the call and then I stopped. “Call me on this number,” I added, hoping the number showed up on his missed calls list.

  I disconnected the phone call.

  My mind cataloged the people I could call. Vera. My mom. My brother. Evan. My mom and brother would be useless. Vera never answered calls from unknown numbers. That left Evan. I wavered a few seconds before I decided to call him, but in the end, I did it.

  The waiting started once more.

  One ring.

  “Hello.”

  “Evan,” I whispered. His name rolled off my lips like a benediction. A prayer. Even though I still hated him, he symbolized home and my life before Ryker unhinged everything I knew and believed about my life and myself. Evan cheating on me seemed like an inconsequential hiccup in comparison to my current problems.