The Vargas Cartel Trilogy: Books 1 - 3

by Lisa Cardiff

  “Agarrarla,” a man yelled.

  Strands of hair whipped around my face. Cold sweat poured down my back. My lungs burned. Blood thundered in my ears like a steam train, getting louder and louder with every stride.

  Please don’t let them catch me.

  Please don’t let them catch me.

  Please don’t—

  Before I could finish the thought a third time, arms snaked around my waist, gouging the flesh of my stomach, centimeter by centimeter. The rubber soles of my sneakers scraped across the pavement. I lurched forward, battling him with every muscle fiber in my body, but instead of breaking his hold, we tumbled forward onto the sidewalk. Pain zigzagged up my arms as my hands crashed against the ground. Dirt and gravel dug into my flesh like shrapnel.

  I scrambled forward, my fingernails clawing at the hairline fractures in the pavement as though I could rip them open and find refuge from the nightmare unfolding with lightning speed. Rust-colored blood from my hands streaked the pavement in parallel lines. He yanked my head backward by my hair, and my scalp pulsed with mind-splitting pain. Like a bull taunted by a matador in a bullfight, a red haze of bloodlust tinted my vision. I donkey-kicked backward over and over, relishing every grunt and groan spilling from the man’s mouth.

  I wouldn’t win. I knew it. He knew it. He weighed at least a hundred pounds more than me. He had a gun. He had five men helping him, but I’d fight until I couldn’t fight any longer. For me. For our baby.

  “Pinche puta,” the man cursed next to my ear. Saliva splattered across the side of my face. Like a noxious gas, the smell of garlic and stale cigarette smoke infiltrated my lungs. I gagged, barely choking back the bile blistering the walls of my throat.

  He shoved my face into the ground. My teeth rattled. Tears streamed unchecked down my sweat-stained face. Dirt coated my lips, crunching between my teeth.

  “Fuck you. You piece of shit.” I growled as I reached back and yanked a handful of his greasy hair, tearing it from the roots. My hand fell to the ground. Looking down, my stomach lurched when I saw a fistful of black hair threaded between my fingers.

  “Did your boyfriend think we’d ignore his insult? That we wouldn’t retaliate?” His hand coiled around the front of my neck, constricting the air to my lungs, and pressing with alarming accuracy against my jugular. I gasped for air. My body ached. Terror screamed through my veins.

  My fingernails burrowed into his hand, scratching and mauling him like a feral alley cat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, but the words sounded more like hoarse whimpers.

  “Shut the fuck up. All he had to do was mind his own business and stay the hell out of Mexico and away from Anna.”

  “No. No. No,” I mumbled. My vision blurred from a combination of tears and lack of air. Everything looked wavy and distorted. I drew my body into a tight ball. Ryker was supposed to protect me. He said he’d keep me safe, but he was nowhere to be found as his enemies stole my future, like cherry blossoms swept away in a spring wind. I had no one. Nothing.

  Not again. Not again. I chanted, wishing my thoughts alone could stop this from happening. The butt of his gun collided with the side of my head, sandwiching my skull against the ground. Pain exploded inside my head, and white stars splashed behind my eyes. My vision tunneled to a pinprick, and then everything went dark.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Ryker

  I opened the door to our hotel room.

  “Hattie?”

  No answer.

  Her suitcase sat on the luggage rack half packed. What the hell? Did she plan to leave without telling me? The soles of my shoes echoed against the creamy white tile floors as I crossed the room. I peeked inside the bathroom. Empty except for the faint hint of her crisp perfume.

  Where the hell was she? I called her cell phone at least twenty times in the last five hours. She hadn’t answered the phone in our hotel room either. I checked the pool and the beach. Nothing.

  I settled into the chair across from the bed and rested my ankle on the opposite knee. Too exhausted to deal with the implications of her pending departure, I closed my eyes, concentrating on putting the last few days behind me.

  Ignacio.

  Rever.

  Anna.

  The Vargas Cartel.

  For some reason, I had convinced Hattie to accompany me on this trip. Bringing her here didn’t make sense, but when it came to Hattie, I was a greedy bastard. I refused to leave her at home and give her an opportunity to change her mind about me…about us. I didn’t want her to create a new life without me because I couldn’t and wouldn’t live without her. Somehow she became my home. My everything.

  My phone rang. I slipped it out of my pocket and checked the screen.

  Thank God. It was Hattie.

  “Hattie, where are you?”

  “Ryker?” she said, her voice quivering.

  I stood up. “Are you okay?”

  “No,” she whispered.

  “Hand me the phone,” a man yelled and my heart lurched.

  “Hattie. Hattie. Talk to me. Who is that?”

  “Is this Ryker Vargas?” A man’s voice echoed through the phone.

  “Yes. Who the fuck is this?”

  “This is Juan Alvarez.”

  My stomach dropped, and the air whooshed out of my lungs. “What do you want?”

  “What do you think I want? You invaded my turf and stole my daughter.”

  “She came willingly. She wanted to go with us.”

  “I don’t give a fuck what she wanted, you mother fucker. You insulted my intelligence. You shot my son. You have seventy-two hours to return my daughter or—”

  “That’s not fucking happening. They’re not even in Mexico anymore,” I interrupted. Rever and Anna had booked a flight to Panama that departed hours ago.

  “I know.”

  “Then you realize I can’t return your daughter.”

  “Make it happen you piece of shit, or I’ll have room service deliver Hattie’s fingernails to your hotel room on a fucking silver platter, but I won’t stop there. For every day that passes without Anna being returned to my home, I’ll cut off another body part.” He chuckled, a cold, lifeless sound that made the hair on my arms lift in protest. “Don’t worry, I’ll start with the small body parts. Ears. Fingers. Toes. Maybe a nose or an eye. And if she passes out, I’ll pour rubbing alcohol on her face to make sure she doesn’t miss a second of pain.”

  Rage boiled in my gut. For the first time in my life, I felt completely out of control. Revenge coiled around my chest like a Mexican black kingsnake. “No. You listen to me. If you touch a single hair on her head, I’ll kill you and every one of your family members, and I won’t do it with a single gunshot to the head. I’ll carve them up into little pieces and watch them choke on their disgusting Alvarez blood. And when I’m done, I’ll scatter their decayed body parts all over Mexico. Then, I’ll come back for you, and cut out your intestines and feed them to you with a spoon while you bleed to death.”

  “Fuck you. Not if I kill you and your family first.”

  Before I responded, the phone went dead.

  Admirable words, and not the first time I’d heard them either. Ten years had passed since someone uttered them to my face, which was the last time Ignacio managed to rope me into Vargas Cartel business.

  Somehow the universe had boxed me into a corner, and I didn’t have a choice. I called Ignacio. In order to get Hattie back, I’d need an army, and Ignacio was the only person who could give me that.

  “Ignacio, it’s Ryker,” I said when he answered the phone. “I need your help. Juan Alvarez abducted Hattie.” The words tasted like ash as they tumbled from my mouth.

  “I’ll help you on one condition.” I clenched my phone, already knowing what he wanted. It was what he’d wanted for the last five years. “You have to take your place in the cartel. I mean it. From this point forward, you’re all in, regardless of what happens.”

  Acid burned i
n my stomach. I never wanted it. I did everything to avoid it, but time was up. I’d run out of options. I sucked in a deep breath. My vision cleared, and my anxiety fizzled. There was something cathartic about accepting my fate. “You have a deal,” I said.

  My voice sounded cold and detached. Accepting his offer had stripped me of my humanity. With those four words, I had sacrificed my life and my future. For Hattie. For my child. I wished I could change it, but I’d never regret it. They were worth it. I owed it to her. I loved her, and I’d do anything to keep them safe, even if it meant giving her up and never knowing my child.

  An eye for an eye.

  Her life for mine.

  My soul for hers.

  A perfect trade.

  I was grateful she ever wanted me, but I knew her love would evaporate the minute she discovered my fate. Until my death, I’d carry the bloody mantle of the Vargas Cartel on my shoulders.

  It had happened so fast—too fast—like a tornado sweeping through my life and wrecking everything in its path. In a matter of days, I had lost everything. Everyone. Just like that, darkness rolled through me, filling my cells, coating my skin, corrupting my mind, and extinguishing the last flicker of light inside my soul.

  It was done. Everything had come full circle, except this time there wouldn’t be a happily ever after for Hattie and me.

  Chapter One

  Hattie

  My eyes fluttered open.

  A maze of fuzzy shadows greeted me.

  The pungent smell of ammonia flooded my senses.

  My arms and legs prickled.

  A film of humidity coated my skin.

  My head throbbed in time with the rest of my body.

  Hunger clawed at my stomach.

  Thirst shredded my throat, making it nearly impossible to swallow.

  I reached for my skull, and my arms shook with the effort. Metal shackles decorated my wrists like rusted bangles. Chains secured to the cement block wall dangled from metal rings on my shackles, clattering against the concrete floor every time I moved.

  I traced my hairline with my fingers. Blood crusted on the side of my face and hair. My cheek felt puffy and sore to the touch.

  I remembered fighting with that man on the street in Playa del Carmen. I remembered him striking the side of my head with his gun, but after that, everything was blurry like a fragmented nightmare. Non-distinct memories flashed through my mind like photographs.

  A long car ride with a musty pillowcase over my head.

  Arguments about where to take me.

  Being pulled out of the car as my knees scraped across the dirt.

  A phone call to Ryker.

  Then, nothing…until now.

  Keys rattled outside the metal door at the far side of the room. Seconds later, the deadbolt clicked, and the hinges squealed as the door sprung open. A fluorescent light overhead flickered to life with a slight hum. I squeezed my eyes closed, protecting them from the sudden burst of illumination. I heard the faint tapping of cockroaches scattering away from the light.

  “Buenas tardes, Miss Covington.” The gravelly voice echoed off the walls, and I pried my eyes open.

  “Hello,” I said, my voice scraping like sandpaper across my vocal cords.

  “Do you remember me?”

  I nodded, and pain shot through my head. “You’re Juan Alvarez.”

  “Good.” He flipped open a silver colored folding chair propped against the wall and settled into it, his ankle crossed over the opposite knee. His stomach hung over his wide black belt. “We had to sedate you, so I didn’t know how much you’d recall from our first meeting.”

  My lips parted as images flitted through my brain one after another. Juan Alvarez had threatened to rip off my fingernails and deliver them to Ryker along with other body parts if he didn’t return Anna Alvarez back to her family. Then, I lost it. I screamed. I kicked. I bit. I tore out his hair, and I ended up here—chained and caged like an animal.

  My lips curved upward into something resembling a smile when I noticed the scratches carved into his cheek. I did that. I curled my hands into fists like a professional boxer. I narrowed my eyes into predator-like slits. If I weren’t chained to the wall, I’d attack him again. “I remember enough.”

  “Right.” He stroked the side of his face, then stood. He paced back and forth in front of me without saying a single word. Dirt crunched under the weight of his black loafers. The tassels on the tops of his shoes swung back and forth like a hypnotic pendulum.

  Without warning, he stopped moving, and his hands threaded into my hair. He yanked my head backward, and it collided with a dull thud against the wall. I chomped on my lower lip to stifle a whimper. It fucking hurt. My brain scrambled, and the corners of my eyes stung with dehydrated tears, but I refused to cry. I refused to show weakness. It wouldn’t help me. I’d melt into a blubbering puddle of fear, and I needed be coherent in order to survive.

  “I don’t tolerate disobedience. You try that shit again, and I’ll fucking kill you. I don’t give a shit who your family is or who your boyfriend is. You’ll be nobody after I chop you into a million unrecognizable pieces and feed you to the coyotes. ¿Entiendes?” His sour breath wafted across the side of my face, and I gagged. A lopsided smirk split his bloated face. The gold crown on his front tooth winked at me, taunting me.

  I nodded, clenching my teeth to stop them from clacking together as full body tremors possessed me.

  “Enrique,” Juan spat as he glanced over his shoulder. “She’s ready for you.”

  “Ready?” I whispered with my stare glued to the door.

  A man with wavy dark hair that brushed the top of his shoulders strolled into the room. He wore faded baggy jeans and a black muscle shirt. Colorful tattoos of cartoon-inspired naked women and phrases in Spanish decorated his forearms. A bandage circled his right bicep. He couldn’t have been more than five years older than me, but something about him scared the shit out of me.

  “I’m looking forward to it,” he said as his eyes traveled the length of my body. He pulled a cigar out of his pocket, snipped the end and lit it, his inky eyes never leaving mine.

  “Enrique is my son. He’s going to do the honors. I’m just here for the entertainment.” Juan untangled his hand from my hair and sat back down in the folding chair. “I like having front row seats to these events. I find them inspirational.”

  My eyes widened, and I scooted backward, suctioning my spine to the wall. “No,” I whispered, shaking my head back and forth. “No. I’m sorry. I won’t do it again. I promise. I’ll be good.”

  “It’s too late for apologies,” Enrique said. He sucked on the end of his cigar, and his cheeks hollowed, highlighting the knife-edged angles of his face. “But it won’t be too bad this time. This is a warning. Next time…” He shrugged. “It’ll be much worse.”

  He crouched in front of me, brushing the side of my jaw with his knuckles. “Such pretty skin. Not a single blemish. Personally, I like a woman with a few scars. They give you character. They tell a story about who you are and where you’ve been. When I’m done with you, you’ll definitely have a story.”

  My heart battered against my chest bone, and a parade of uneven pants escaped my mouth. Like a thief, fear crept through my body coating my muscles in ice. I inched backward again, hoping and praying against all logic that the wall would open up and transport me anywhere but here. Where was a portal to another dimension when I needed it?

  “Do you know what happened here?” He pointed to the bandage on his arm.

  “No,” I muttered, my voice almost inaudible. My words were thick and fuzzy.

  He flicked his cigar, and the ashes landed on the neon yellow laces of my running shoes. The ashes glowed orange, then faded to gray dust a few seconds later. “I guess you wouldn’t.” He sucked his lower lip into his mouth and his spike silver labret piercing lurched forward like a snakehead. “Your boyfriend shot me as I watched that worthless piece of shit, Rever Vargas, drag my sister dow
n the steps of our church. Can you imagine abducting someone from church?” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth twice. “And here I thought the Vargases were all about honor and respect. Imagine my disappointment when I realized they’re animals just like the rest of us.”

  My eyes widened as I stared at the bright white bandage. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I whispered. Against all logic, I hoped it would make him reconsider his plans for me.

  He tipped up my chin with two fingers and rubbed his calloused thumb across my lips. “Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. I’ll have a scar, but I’ll be fine in no time.”

  He took another drag of his cigar and the sickly sweet smell of tobacco curled into my nose. Coughing, I turned my head to the side.

  “So,” he said, pushing my sleeve up my arm. “I’ve been thinking about how to get even with Ryker Vargas for shooting me and discipline you for your outburst this afternoon.”

  My stomach freefell like an elevator with its cables severed. “How?” I said. The word splintered as it rolled off my tongue.

  He smiled, but it didn’t reach his vacant eyes. “We’ll have matching scars.”

  “No,” I cried, yanking my arm away from him, but it didn’t matter. He snatched it back easily enough. I couldn’t escape.

  He rolled his lit cigar between his index finger and his thumb for a suspended moment. Then, he grabbed my arm, imprisoning it against his thigh, and he plunged the glowing tip into my bicep.

  I screamed as the cigar sizzled against my skin. Fire shot up my arm, and my muscles recoiled like a rubber band. The cloying smell of cigar mingled with the smell of seared flesh and burnt hair. My body jerked as shockwaves of pain radiated up and down my arm, echoing in my ears like a drumbeat.

  “Please stop. No more,” I begged as tears crawled down my cheeks.

  “Oh, I’ll stop.” He pulled the cigar away from my arm and relit it with a flick of his silver lighter. “When I get bored of this.”