by Lisa Cardiff
Ignacio’s dark eyes traveled the length of my body, and then he shook his head. “You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell,” I said as shoved my feet into my shoes. “But it’s nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix.”
“And you think it’s still a good idea to charge into an Alvarez stronghold tomorrow?”
“Tonight.”
“Emanuel said everything was going down tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”
His nostrils flared as he sucked his lips into his mouth. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “There’s always a choice.”
“No.” I shook my head. “There’s really not. I’m not going to leave Hattie there for a second longer than I have to.” Also, I didn’t fully trust Emanuel, so I’d misled him about my intentions for as long as possible.
Ignacio’s lips twisted like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Then try to stop yourself from drowning in a bottle of tequila again today. I don’t need a dead son. I need a son to help me with business. You need to hold up your side of the bargain. Acting like goddamn pussy won’t help Hattie or me.”
“Yeah, fuck you,” I mumbled as I brushed by him. I couldn’t argue with him. Not even a week after making this bargain with Ignacio and I was morphing into Rever—drinking too much, playing the victim card, and missing Hattie so much it felt like someone had taken a pickaxe and hollowed out my chest.
I missed her scent, her taste, her everything. I ached to touch her. Hold her. Kiss her. I used to believe she was my salvation. My home. My heart belonged to her. I’d tried to change my life and become a better person for her, but fate won. She couldn’t be my anything. I was a danger to her life and the life of my unborn child.
I wanted to bury my fist in the wall, but with my luck I’d break my hand, and then I wouldn’t be any help to Hattie. No, I needed to pull my head out of my ass. I didn’t have the luxury of taking my aggravation out on the wall or Ignacio. I needed to stay focused and ignore the bitter pang of regret bubbling like a noxious poison in my midsection. I wasn’t allowed to have feelings any longer. I couldn’t afford to have feelings. I was indebted to the Vargas Cartel for the rest of my miserable life. Soon enough, I’d turn into a soulless, drug running murderer. I might as well get used to the twisted emptiness now.
“Are the Americans in your office?” I asked, clenching my fists.
“Yes.”
My shoes clipped across the tiled floor. “Are you joining us?”
“Not today.”
I whirled around. “Why not?”
“Let’s just say, I’m not feeling up to it.”
I scanned his body. He still looked weak. His skin was pale and dark smudges circled his eyes. He’d left the hospital last night, but only because he refused to stay in there another day.
“Okay. Do you need anything?”
“No, just rest.”
I nodded, then crossed the living room and opened the door to the study. Three men sat in the study across from Emanuel. Two had closely shaved heads and nearly identical white t-shirts and jeans. The man on the right, dressed entirely in black with longish hair, looked familiar, but I couldn’t place him.
“Emanuel,” I said as I slid into the only remaining chair.
“Ryker, I’ve already given them a brief summary of the mission.” Emanuel replied. He poured coffee from a metal carafe into a clear glass mug. “Do you take your coffee black?”
“Sure. Thanks.” I took a sip of the lukewarm coffee and then placed the mug on a carved wood side table. “Are you going to introduce us?” I asked, tipping my head in the direction of the three men on the leather sofa.
“You’re right.” Emanuel leaned forward in Ignacio’s chair, bracing his elbows on the desk. “Where are my manners?”
I refrained from rolling my eyes. All five men sitting in that study, including me, didn’t give a rat’s ass about manners. I wanted to free Hattie. Emanuel wanted to please Ignacio, and the three men on the sofa wanted a shitload of untraceable money.
Unwilling to listen to Emanuel blow smoke up my ass all day, I stood up, intending to take control of the meeting. “I’m Ryker Vargas. I know Emanuel already knows your history, but go ahead and give me a short summary of your background before I share the details of this particular job.”
“Noah Fiennes,” the man on the right said. “Former US Marine. I spent the last three years in the Middle East doing freelance work. I’ve been in Mexico for four months.”
“Why did you relocate?” Making contacts as a freelance assassin was the hard part of the job. Most people stayed in the same area unless their cover was blown.
“I’m here doing some research that relates to my work in the Middle East. I figured I’d pick up some jobs while I’m here. I’m going back at the end of the year. Maybe sooner. I haven’t decided.”
My eyes narrowed. I knew what he was talking about. There’d been a lot of speculation lately about connections between drug cartels and Muslim extremists. As far as I knew, Ignacio hadn’t allied with one, but at the end of the day, cartels were interested in making money, and with the seizure of oilfields in Iraq, Muslim extremists had a lot of it these days. “You look familiar.”
“Yeah,” he said with a practiced smile. “We met in passing, but you were Ryker Fallon, and I had a different name at that time too—Nazar Fayed.”
I pursed my lips. “Right.” I’d run into Nazar Fayed about three years ago. He was working undercover in some Muslim organization with alleged ties to terrorist groups. Unfortunately, he had ties to the US government. Something I didn’t want for this mission. “So you’re still working for the US government?”
He scoffed. “They’ve hired me a few times, but they’d never claim me. Consider me an equal opportunity consultant without moral hang-ups. I follow the money wherever it leads me. Sometimes that’s the US government. Sometimes it’s a drug cartel in Mexico. Other times, it’s a Russian arms dealer or a fundamentalist organization.”
“So you’re a liability. If the Alvarez Cartel gave you more money, you’d flip sides mid-mission?”
“No,” he spat. “I never quit mid-job. Once I’m in, I’m all in.”
“Ah,” I mocked, raising one eyebrow. “So you do have some morals.”
“No, just a healthy sense of self-preservation. If I develop a reputation for flipping sides, I’d never get another job and I’d have an exponentially shortened life span.”
My eyes narrowed into slits.
“He’s telling the truth,” Emanuel interjected, folding his arms across his chest. “We’ve hired all three of these men before. We’ve never had any problems, and their references check out. Ignacio investigated each one of them himself. I have the files if you want to review them at length.”
I nodded. I believed him. Ignacio never did anything without meticulous planning and due diligence. Noah’s situation was similar to mine when I worked as a fixer. I’d taken whatever job paid the most. Sometimes, I had worked indirectly for the US government or other governments, but I was never entrenched with one entity or person. While the steady work one government could provide was nice, it made a consultant beholden and dependent. Two things I never wanted to be.
I cringed inwardly. Somehow I’d ended up indebted and tied to the Vargas Cartel for the rest of my life. Just that fleeting reminder made me want to dive into another bottle of tequila. If Hattie were safe, I’d do exactly that. Alcohol had the benefit of blurring unpleasant truths.
I gestured to the other two men. “What about you two?”
“I’m Rick,” the blond haired man seated in the middle said. “I did two tours in Afghanistan. I’ve been freelancing in Mexico for the last three years.”
“Me too,” the last man said. “Rick and I were in the military together. We’ve worked together a few times, but most of the time, we do our own thing. I’m Eric, by the way.”
/> I walked the length of the room with my arms folded across my chest. These three men weren’t the only ex-military, muscle-for-hire, in Mexico with adequate qualifications. With US unemployment at a high, particularly for military veterans, tons of ex-military personnel floated in and out of Mexico looking to make a quick buck. I could spend weeks interviewing potential candidates, but I didn’t have weeks. Hattie could be dead in a matter of days. As a rule, I didn’t trust anyone else’s judgment, but right now I had to trust Emanuel and Ignacio.
I swiped a stack of papers from the desk and handed each one of the men a stack of photos of the Alvarez safe house. “Okay. This is where they’re holding the hostage.”
“When are we going to move on the location?” Noah asked as he studied the photos.
“Tonight,” I answered.
“Don’t you think we should do a little recon first?” Rick said, cocking his head to the side.
“That would be ideal, but time is of the essence.”
Rick whistled as he shook his head.
I shot him a leveling stare. “Is that going to be a problem for you? If so, you can get the fuck out now. Either you’re all in or you’re not.”
Rick scrubbed the side of his face. “You’re asking us to take a leap of faith here. A lot can go wrong.”
“You’re absolutely right. This mission could blow up in our faces whether or not we spend a week staking out the Alvarez safe house.” I paused in front of him, resting my hands on my hips. “Either way, I’ve agreed to compensate you for the added risk and time constraints. If it’s not adequate, then you can walk out right now.” I waved my hand toward the door.
Rick’s lips curled. “This is a suicide mission. We don’t know if the place is booby-trapped or how many men we’ll encounter. At least let a few of us do a quick surveillance run tonight so we’re not running blind.”
“He has a point,” Noah said, propping his ankle on the opposite leg. “The security might change the following night, but it’d give us more information than a few pictures.”
“No,” I spat, my hands shaking with violence. “If someone sees us, they’ll move her or kill her and we’ll be right back to square one, except they’ll know we want her.”
Noah’s nostrils flared. “And if we fail because we’re unprepared, they’ll cut off her head and deliver it to her family or you by sunrise.”
“Failing isn’t an option.” I curled my hands into balls. “Are you saying you’re not good enough to do this?”
Noah’s lips thinned, and his eyes glittered. “No, I’ll do it, but I want seventy-five percent of the money dropped into my account before I’ll lift a finger.”
I glanced out the window. An older man with gray hair crouched in the garden beds planting flowers. “Are you worried you’re not going to make it out?”
“No. I always come out on top.” He chuckled as he leaned back. “I’m worried you won’t make it out and I won’t be paid.”
“I’m not worried about myself, but I’ll wire the money to your account tonight.”
“One more thing,” Noah said.
“What’s that?”
“The final twenty-five percent payment won’t be dependent on whether the girl lives or dies.”
“No.” I gritted my teeth. “I need there to be an incentive for you to do everything in your power keep her alive.”
Noah ran his fingers over his lips. “Fine, but if they kill her before we show up, I still want all the money you promised me.”
A shiver ghosted down my spine. I hoped his words weren’t prophetic. Hattie couldn’t die. I wouldn’t allow it. Life couldn’t be that cruel. I swiped my hand across my forehead, hardening my heart. “Deal,” I barked with a wintry smile. “Now, let’s bang out the logistics so we can get everything ready.”
Chapter Seven
Hattie
“Wake up.”
A boot rammed into my lower back, not hard enough to injure me, but with enough force to get my attention. I scrambled to my knees and pushed my greasy, matted hair from my face. My stare collided with Enrique’s, and I quickly lowered my gaze.
“Okay. Okay. I’m up,” I mumbled.
“We’re moving you to a new location today.”
I chewed on my lower lip, stifling the questions stampeding like a herd of cattle through my mind. Instead, I nodded with half-lowered eyelids. Ryker promised he’d come for me tonight. Hopefully, Enrique intended to move me into another room inside this house rather than to a new location. Even if he moved me across the country, I wouldn’t object too much. Twenty-four hours in a damp room with a decaying corpse was enough.
The toe of his black boot moved up and down as he glared at me.
Tap, tap, pause.
Tap, tap, pause, and repeat.
“Get up. I have to remove your shackles.”
As I stood up, I peeked at him from beneath the shield of my lashes. Looking at Enrique reminded me of staring at the devil. His teeth winked in the dim light, and an aura of menacing evil emanated from him. His dark eyes gleamed with an unholy light as he rubbed his palms together in anticipation of inflicting pain. Icy terror shot down my spine, and the air felt heavy against my chest.
“The new room doesn’t have any restraints, but if you’re a good girl, I won’t handcuff you.” He sucked his lips into his mouth. “If not, I’ll have to improvise.”
He started with the thick bands of metal around my wrists. He unlocked one and then the other. I closed my eyes, shivering in frozen silence as his sweaty hands coasted along my skin. Seconds later, he crouched at my feet, freeing both my ankles, and a heavy gasp fell from my lips.
I stepped to the side, but his hand closed around my ankle. I glanced at him as his fingers ghosted up the inside of my calf. The glide of his course fingertips branded my skin. Bile clawed up my throat. My muscles stiffened, and I coiled my hands into tight balls of fury. I couldn’t breathe. When he reached the inside of my knee, I bit the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood swirled around my mouth.
Oh my God. Oh my God. Please don’t do this. Please don’t let this happen. Please don’t let him find the phone.
I should’ve fought.
I should’ve kicked.
I should’ve bolted for the door.
I should’ve screamed, but I didn’t want to die.
A gun glinted from the waistband of his pants, turning every cell in my body to ice. I clamped my eyes shut as my mind whirled, searching for a happy memory, something to anchor me to my life away from this moment. Away from this evil.
Tremors hijacked my legs, slowly slithering up my body until my muscles rippled in nonstop waves of violence and disgust. My feet were rooted to the floor.
When his fingers reached the bottom of my running shorts, I couldn’t take it any longer. Rage tore through me like a bolt of lightning, and I jerked my leg to the side. “Don’t touch me,” I spat through my teeth.
He cocked an eyebrow. “I thought we could have a little fun.”
“Fuck you,” I snarled.
A sinister smile slid across his too smug face. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”
My gaze zipped around the room. Adrenaline pumped through my veins. My heart thundered erratically as if someone had pressed a defibrillator to my chest. Then, everything clicked into place, and I lunged for the door. I didn’t know where it’d lead me. I didn’t even know if I’d get more than ten steps before Enrique put a bullet through my back, but common sense fled in favor of dignity and self-respect.
When I reached the threshold, he fisted his hand in the tangled strands of my hair and wrenched me backward. Pins and needles exploded in my scalp.
“Where do you think you’re going?” He punctuated each word with a tug of my hair, inexorably dragging me backward.
Hot tears prickled the corners of my eyes. My chest heaved like I couldn’t catch my breath. Disjointed pants puffed from my mouth, bouncing off the concrete walls. Thousands of curses
tumbled through my brain, but I didn’t respond. I couldn’t. I felt like I was drowning. What I wanted to do wasn’t relevant.
“Get on your knees, puta.” He slammed his hand between my shoulder blades and I tumbled face first onto all fours. Fire zigzagged up my limbs. My hair shrouded the sides of my face. Whimpers and incoherent pleas vomited from my mouth.
He whipped the gun out of his waistband. It dangled restlessly from his fingertips. His obsidian eyes seared my skin as he unbuckled his belt with one hand. The metal of the buckle rattled unnaturally through my ears. Next came the slide of leather that resembled the hiss of a snake. With a flick of his wrist, he opened his fly, and he shoved his pants down to his mid-thigh, exposing his red boxers.
“No. No. No,” I murmured between broken sobs and trembling lips.
“Crawl over here. You need to earn your keep.”
I shook my head violently from side to side. “No.”
He lifted the gun and pointed it at my face. “Do it or I’ll pull the fucking trigger.”
I glanced over my shoulder toward the open door. Then, my gaze slid down his body, my face carefully blank. “Go ahead. Kill me,” I taunted as I came to my knees. I refused to do what he wanted. I wouldn’t beg for mercy.
Enrique whipped his head from side to side, popping his neck. Then, a smile crept across his face.
“If you’re holding out for Ryker Vargas, don’t bother. He’s not coming for you. He abandoned you, so you may as well enjoy your time with me.”
My stomach rolled and I wrapped my arms around my waist, trying to hold together the fractured pieces of my courage. “You’re wrong.”
He tipped up his head and chuckled. “Ah, how cute. You really think he cares about you. You really think he loves you. He hasn’t done a damn thing for over four days. If the Vargases had my woman, I wouldn’t let a single day pass.”
A tight smile curved my lips upward. “I don’t think he loves me. I know he does. He’ll come for me.”
“Really?” His eyebrows vaulted up his forehead, and one side of his mouth hitched upward like he knew a dirty secret. “Then why did he tell us to do whatever the hell we wanted with you?”
