The Vargas Cartel Trilogy: Books 1 - 3

by Lisa Cardiff

  “It’s me,” Ryker said into the phone. I couldn’t hear Ignacio’s words, but I didn’t have enough energy to care what he said anyway.

  “I found her. She’s fine. I’m fine, but we encountered some trouble today.”

  Ryker nodded. “Yes, Dario. You should’ve briefed me about that shit. He’s dead, but we’re stuck. We need you to come and get us. We’re at that village just west of the villa. I can’t remember its name.” Ryker paused for a few strung-out beats. “Yeah, that’s the one. See you soon,” he said before disconnecting the phone.

  “Is he coming?” I asked, searching his face.

  “In the morning.”

  “What? Why?” I sputtered.

  “He’s not at the villa.”

  “Seriously?” I said, shaking my head. “Then, tell him to send someone else. We need to get the hell out of here.”

  He tilted his head to the side. “We’ll be okay. It’s not that long.”

  “So what are we going to do? Sit here until morning? Maybe stretch out on the dirt road and wait for someone to run us over with their donkey cart and steal your money.”

  “Donkey cart?” He managed a faint smile. “Don’t be so dramatic. You didn’t expect this to be easy. Did you?”

  “I was hoping.” Nothing seemed easy anymore. Even returning to my white-walled prison cell at the villa wasn’t easy.

  “Maybe you’ll stop running then.”

  “I’m done running,” I answered, but then he smirked, pissing me off. “For now, Rick,” I amended using the fake name he gave Roberto.

  He laughed. “Sure thing, Tina.”

  “Ugh. I hate that name. Couldn’t you have used my real name?” I drew circles in the dirt with the tip of my dusty sandal.

  Ryker’s smile faded. “No. People are looking for you…for me.” He stood up. “Let’s see if I can negotiate a place to stay until morning.”

  He didn’t grab my hand or wrap his arm around me this time, and I hated that I noticed his lapse. “I’ll wait here,” I said sullenly.

  “Fine.”

  Five minutes and a few exchanges of money later, Ryker returned. “We have a place to sleep.”

  “Five star accommodations, I assume,” I said, pushing my body off the rock wall. “I’d kill for some air-conditioning, a shower, and five hundred thread count sheets.” I sounded like a bitch, but I didn’t care. “A change of clothes would be nice too.”

  “I can only promise you a bed. The other stuff will have to wait until you get home. Maybe Evan can take you on a vacation when you’re released, and he can treat you to all the stuff you’re missing.”

  “Evan?” I questioned, my heart sputtering inside my chest.

  “That’s who you were talking to on the phone when I found you.” His jaw twitched, and anger flashed across his face, contorting his even features.

  The air around me stagnated as I searched the suddenly blank slate of my mind for something to say. “How did you know?”

  “I heard you.” He rubbed his hand over the dark stubble coating his cheeks.

  “What did you hear?” I shifted my head to the side, pretending I didn’t care what he did or didn’t hear, that I didn’t have anything to hide, that my heart wasn’t about to split my ribcage in half.

  Ryker moved forward, dropping his hands on my shoulders, and pulling my body against his. “Are you playing games? We both know what you said. Don’t act like you can’t remember.”

  “Games?” I echoed, frozen in the prison of his loose embrace. To everyone in the village, we probably looked like a happily married couple sharing a tender moment, but hostility crackled between us.

  “You said you’re going to give Evan another chance.” Danger and maybe jealousy glittered in his dark eyes. No, it couldn’t be jealousy. Ryker didn’t care what I did with Evan. We both knew this thing between us ended the minute he released me.

  “I said I’d try. I didn’t promise it’d work.”

  He reached up and brushed his hand through my short hair, tugging lightly on the tangled strands. “You shouldn’t have called him. It complicated things.”

  “You don’t know that.” Even as I said it, my stomach revolted with the truth. It probably did complicate things. I told Evan I had escaped, and then he heard Ryker. Evan was likely crazed with worry, not to mention my friends and family.

  “Don’t play dumb.” He brushed a kiss across my forehead…probably for our audience. The tips of his fingers trailed up my neck and then he cupped my face. “I was in the middle of negotiating a prisoner swap. When my prisoner escaped, I lost my leverage.”

  “Evan probably heard you, so he knows I didn’t go far.”

  “You’re wrong,” Ryker replied shaking his head. “Ignacio said negotiations have stalled until I can produce your pretty face for a live video conference again.”

  I tore my face from his grasp. “Great. Another reason Ignacio should’ve sent someone to get us tonight.”

  “No, that’s another reason you won’t defy me again. Every rebellion equates to more days before you can go home.”

  “Home,” I whispered.

  “Yes, home. You’re going home soon as long as you listen to me.”

  “I know.” And I did, but part of me didn’t want to let him go…yet. In one of my college psychology courses, I’d learned that some kidnapping victims developed a bizarre bond with their jailer as part of the victim's psychological survival defense mechanism. I think my professor called it traumatic bonding. Maybe I could attribute my growing attachment to Ryker to a simple trick of human psychology, which meant my feelings would fade with time and reflection. Part of me wanted that to be true, and part of me mourned the impending loss of my connection with Ryker. I rubbed my hands over my face. I was broken…well and truly broken. Dammit.

  “I’m glad we understand each other,” he said before he scooped me up into his arms. “Let’s get some rest.”

  Ten minutes and as many Spanish greetings later, Ryker set me down on a narrow bed. I didn’t waste a second before I pulled the brightly colored blanket over my body. Nubby balls covered the sheets, and the blanket scratched my already bruised and battered skin. Even camping in a sleeping bag would have been better, but at that moment it felt like heaven. I could sleep for days. I rolled to my side and tucked my hands under my pillow, my eyes already heavy with sleep.

  Ryker closed the flimsy door and secured the hook and eye latch, not that the flimsy metal contraption would bar anyone from entering. It might slow them down a fraction of a second.

  He sat down on a pine rocking chair in the corner, removed his black leather loafers and slipped the gun out of the holster under the hem of his shirt. “Do you want me to turn off the light?”

  “Yes. Do you want the blanket?” I asked, realizing he didn’t have anywhere to sleep.

  “No.” He flipped the light switch, and I couldn’t see anything, but I felt Ryker. Every inch of my skin prickled as he moved closer and closer to me. The bed dipped as he sat on the edge of the bed. I rolled away from him, trying to ignore his nearness, which was easier said than done. Then, he slipped under the blanket next to me, cocooning me in his embrace, and I couldn’t ignore him regardless of how hard I tried.

  “Why are you in bed with me? It’s too small.” I tossed his arm off my body, but he didn’t even hesitate for a second before clamping his arm around my waist again, tethering me to him even tighter than before.

  “It’s better than the floor.”

  “But I’m using it.”

  “So am I,” he answered. “Now, be quiet and go to sleep while you have the chance. At this point in time, I don’t have an ulterior motive, but I could always change my mind.”

  “Fine. But keep your hands in a safe zone,” I warned.

  He slipped his hand under my shirt, his fingertips less than an inch from my breasts. I sucked in a breath. “Is this a safe zone?” he said, his warm breath skimming the side of my face.

  “No, i
t’s a gray area, and gray areas are off limits too.” I needed to sleep, and I didn’t trust myself around him. If he kept this up, I’d become the aggressor.

  “How about here? Is this still a gray area?” he asked as his hand traced the underside of my breast.

  “Not a safe zone and you know it.”

  He chuckled, moving his hand to the outside of my shirt. “I was just teasing you.”

  I sighed irritably. “You’re evil.”

  “But you like it when I misbehave, and I’d hate to disappoint you.”

  He rolled over, pinning my body beneath his, bracing his weight with his arms. His gazed drifted to my mouth, lingering there for a drawn out heartbeat. I’d never wanted to feel his lips against mine more than at that instant.

  “I shouldn’t kiss you.”

  I nodded, the back of my head sliding against the nubby pillowcase. “No, you shouldn’t,” I agreed, even as I burned with the need to taste him again. If he didn’t kiss me, I had every intention of kissing him.

  “But I’m going to do it anyway.”

  “I know.”

  The tips of his fingers tunneled into the tangled strands of my hair, and he brushed a feather-like kiss across my lips. My heart seized, but it wasn’t even close to enough. I arched into him, and within seconds our lips fused to together, hot and heavy.

  I sunk into him, into his kiss, moaning when his tongue slipped past my lips. I kissed him like my life depended on it, and maybe it did.

  I tasted him.

  I inhaled him.

  I clung to him.

  Dizzy and lightheaded, my body shook with unrestrained desire, and I couldn’t get enough. Remotely, I registered the shuffling of feet and whispered conversations in the hallway, but I didn’t care. My mind didn’t have room for anything except the wicked caress of his tongue against mine and the ache building inside of me.

  And then he stopped, his lips hovering over mine, his exhalation becoming my inhalation. The pad of his thumb traced my lower lip, and time grinded to a halt. His gray eyes searched my face, then he pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose.

  “Goodnight, Hattie,” he whispered before rolling over and swaddling me in a side-by-side embrace.

  I told myself to object and shove him off the bed, or beg for more, but I couldn’t summon the words or willpower to do either. He felt too good, too warm, and too safe. So instead, I closed eyes, drew his spicy, sea salt infused scent into my lungs, and fell asleep.

  Chapter Twenty

  A knock on the louvered wood door woke me early the next morning. My eyes fluttered around the room, taking in my surroundings. Yellow stains dripped down the empty, white walls. Ryker’s heavy arm circled my waist. Springs burrowed into my side from the thin mattress. Light poured into the room around the edges of the faded, cornflower blue curtains. For a split second, I couldn’t remember where we were, but then I heard Ignacio’s voice.

  “Ryker, are you in there?”

  A night of sleep had centered my thoughts and erased the spiraling panic etched in my mind, but the moment I heard Ignacio’s voice, my muscles tensed and my stomach soured.

  “Shit,” Ryker mumbled as he rolled onto his back and dropped his hand over his eyes.

  “Ryker?” Ignacio said again, his voice echoing off the walls. The door handle jiggled, and the hook and eye latch threatened to snap under the pressure.

  “I’m coming.” Ryker sat up, his feet hanging over the side of the bed.

  I scrambled off the bed and leapfrogged to the far corner of the room, putting as much distance as possible between the door and me. My tattered sandals were on the side of the bed. Slipping my feet into them for another day sounded like a rare form of torture. A large blister lined the heel of my right foot, and the constant abrasion from the leather strap between my first two toes had left my skin raw. Transiently, I considered leaving them for the owner of the house, but I didn’t have many shoe options at the villa, so I picked them up.

  “Get up,” Ignacio barked. “Dario was working with the Alverez Cartel. We need to leave before someone sells us out and we have to fight our way out.”

  Ryker shoved his feet into his shoes and stalked toward the door. His dark hair stuck up at different angles, and the side of his face had indentation marks from the sheets. Pausing with his hand on the lock, he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t tell anyone what happened between us.” He had lowered his voice until it barely reached a whisper.

  “Who would I tell?”

  Ryker ran his hand through his hair and his mouth tightened. “Ignacio. Everyone. Fuck…I don’t know. Just keep it to yourself. It was a mistake. It can’t happen again. Ever.”

  Unreasonable and wholly unwarranted pain burst through my heart. I agreed with him. What happened between us was a mistake so many times over. Ryker was my jailer. I promised Evan a second chance. Ryker lived in a violent world beyond my comprehension—one I’d never understand. Sadly, none of that made a difference to my sick and twisted heart. I was ten kinds of a fool.

  “Hattie?” Ryker prompted when I didn’t answer him, his gray eyes searching mine. “Did you hear what I said?”

  “Why?”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “To protect you. That’s all I can say.”

  I squeezed me eyes shut, trying to find comfort in his words. “And pushing me away and pretending nothing happened will protect me?”

  “Yes.” He sighed. “This is the way it has to be. This is the way it should have been.”

  “Fine. I won’t tell anyone, ever,” I mumbled, turning my head to avoid his gaze. Instead, I stared blindly at the walls of the room, willing the numbness to take over so I didn’t feel anything. I used to do the same thing as a kid when my mom’s demands became too much. It helped me survive in the past, and I needed it now for the same reason. Within mere seconds, I relaxed as the familiar blanket of nothingness rolled through me.

  “Good. Are you ready?”

  With little reluctance, I shuffled toward the door. “I guess so,” I replied, because what else could I say? I didn’t want to go back to my windowless cell, but I didn’t want to stay here either. I could scream and cry about the unfairness of my life later. Right now, I didn’t have a choice. I had to keep moving forward and embrace the nothingness until I could reclaim my life.

  Ryker unlatched the lock. “Do I need to tie your hands or will you follow me willingly?”

  Dropping my sandals to the floor, I balled my hands into fists in front of my body. My fingernails dug into my palms. “Do whatever you want,” I mumbled, resisting the urge to fight him even as anger sparked in my veins, swallowing my numbness piece by piece. “I followed you all day yesterday, and I didn’t try to leave last night, but it’s your call.”

  Lines bracketed the sides of his mouth as he pressed his lips into a firm, straight line. “Let’s go then.” He wrenched the decrepit door open, and there stood Ignacio.

  His dark eyes flashed between Ryker and me. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled into deep lines. I wished he wouldn’t look at me that way. It made me feel exposed…transparent.

  “Is everything okay?” Ignacio asked, running his tanned hand through his salt and pepper hair.

  I’d never noticed the resemblance between him and Ryker until that moment. While I suspected Ryker looked more like his mom than his dad, he had his dad’s long, angular nose, heavy-lidded eyes, and broad shoulders.

  “Everything is perfect. Miss Covington agreed she wouldn’t run again, so we shouldn’t have any additional problems before it’s time to make the exchange.” Ryker folded his arms across his chest, but he didn’t turn around to look at me. Damn him and his calm ambivalence.

  “That’s what you said when you left her in your room alone and without a guard,” Ignacio shot back.

  “She won’t run again,” Ryker retorted without any further explanation. “Right, Miss Covington?”

  I stared at the ceiling, studying the web of hairline cracks
, extending outward in a maze from the white ceiling fan. I hated surrendering so easily, but it was true. I wasn’t running again unless Ryker happened to stop in front of the U.S. embassy, and I wouldn’t hold my breath for that to happen. “No,” I answered after a heavy pause.

  Ignacio scanned the disheveled bedding. “It’s not a good idea to get involved with the cargo.”

  “Cargo?” I said.

  Ryker glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes cold as ice even as a chuckle fell from his deceptively seductive lips. “In the world of cartels, cargo is a hostage. Targets are execution victims.”

  “Hm.” At least Ignacio didn’t call me a target. I might become one at some point, but not yet.

  “Is there anything I need to know?” Ignacio persisted.

  “I don’t have anything to share. Miss Covington, do you?” Ryker’s question was so innocent, so utterly lacking in guile that I knew he intended to bait me.

  “No,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to the ground, flames of embarrassment warming my face. My gut twisted. He asked me to pretend nothing happened between us…that he didn’t cradle me all night. Fine. I could do that. I mentally scrubbed his scent and the specter of his touch from my skin.

  “Great. Put your sandals on and let’s get out of here. I’m tired from trekking through the jungle for two nights.” Ryker said, stepping to the side, signaling for me to go out the door first.

  I stuffed my feet into my sandals with far more enthusiasm and energy than I’d thought possible given the rollercoaster of emotions circling in my mind. Just when I thought Ryker and I had managed to form some semblance of a truce and mutual trust, he turned into an asshole again. Even though he had protected me, killed for me, lied for me, and carried me when my body failed me, I felt invisible and insignificant under his indifferent gaze. We agreed not to tell anyone what happened between us, but I didn’t appreciate his cruelty. I wouldn’t cry, though. I had already indulged in enough self-pity for a lifetime.