by Kaylea Cross
“We got a situation going down a few houses north up the beach,” he said, pointing behind him. “Nieto’s trying to make a run for it with Oceane. Mexican SF wants us to help stop him, so we’ve gotta haul ass.”
Chapter Nineteen
Oceane ‘s heart was in her throat as she fought to break free of David’s grip. His fingers were like steel as he dragged her down a staircase hidden beneath the butler pantry floor.
“You can’t do this,” she cried, twisting and pulling. “David, stop.”
“Can’t,” he replied, his stride never slowing. As though her attempts to break free were no more bothersome to him than a mosquito buzzing around his head.
Panic knifed through her. Nieto had her now. Everything was in chaos. He may not hurt her, but neither would he let her go. And she had no idea where her rescue was, or if the team even knew her location now.
A light appeared from somewhere up ahead along the corridor. The radio on David’s hip squawked.
“I’m bringing the boat up now,” a man said.
Boat? “Where are you taking me?” she demanded. God, she needed to stall. Find a way to delay their departure long enough to give the team coming for her time to get here.
What if there is no team coming for you?
Terror slithered in her belly, cold and oily. “David. Tell me, dammit!”
“To somewhere safe,” he said, hurrying along the tunnel.
They seemed to be moving downward, the angle increasing as they went. There was no breaking his grip. Even when she stumbled and went limp, becoming a dead weight in a desperate attempt to get him to drop her, his fingers remained locked around her arms.
Finally, they reached the source of the light. A small safe room stood off to one side, its thick steel door open. Nieto appeared in the doorway and her stomach lurched.
His expression was icy cold as he stared at her, a pistol in hand. For one fleeting instant, she was afraid he would shoot her. “How long do we have until they come for you?” he demanded.
She swallowed, debated her answer for a moment before responding. He knew she had been with the authorities. No point denying it now. “I don’t know.” She didn’t dare add that they might not know where she was. If he was worried about cops arriving, maybe he would just leave on his own, without her.
He shook his head, his jaw tight. “You don’t know what you’ve done.”
“What I’ve done?”
He glanced toward the end of the tunnel where another steel door stood between them and whatever was on the other side. “It doesn’t matter now. It won’t change anything.” He checked his watch, looked at David. “Let’s go.”
David began to pull her forward once more, and a fresh shot of alarm sliced through her. “You can’t just kidnap me!”
“You’re my daughter,” Nieto called back to her, marching ahead of them toward the steel door. “I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe.”
“Then let me go,” she begged, too afraid to keep the fear at bay any longer. “That’s the only way you can keep me safe now.”
He whirled on her, his eyes blazing in the eerie overhead lighting. “Never.”
Her heart sank along with her stomach. She didn’t know this man. Had never known him at all.
He paused at the door, checked his phone. After a moment he looked back at David. “They’re here. You ready?”
“Ready.”
Her father hit a switch, plunging them all into darkness. Then he opened the steel door.
Oceane stopped struggling for a moment, peering out into the night. The rush of the surf against the beach reached her ears, the salty smell of it filling her nose. And above the sound of the waves, the distinct roar of a powerful boat engine racing toward them.
A speed boat. Probably like the one she’d been on before with Nieto. Small and fast enough to get them offshore without being detected. Able to slip past the Coast Guard and out to sea before anyone could catch them.
Distress pulsed through her, along with a renewed resolve to fight. She twisted in David’s grip, kicked at his shins as he held her prisoner. “No, you can’t do this.” She was beyond the ability to try and argue her way out of this, the words bursting from her, flinging them at Nieto like bullets. “I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. This is your life, not mine. You’ve already taken everything from me—everything. I won’t let you take my future too.”
It might have been her imagination, but she thought David’s body went rigid, his grip easing slightly. She twisted her face up to peer up at him, faint moonlight illuminating his features. She wasn’t too proud to beg. Not if it freed her.
“David. Please, I’m begging you. I’ve known you forever and you always looked out for me. You know about what happened to me when Ruiz’s men attacked our house. How my mother died because of Montoya. I watched her die. I don’t want to be part of that life anymore. Please, don’t do this.”
His grip eased even more. She could feel him hesitating. Battling with himself. Knew instinctively that appealing to him was her only shot at freedom.
“David,” Nieto warned, taking a menacing step toward them. “Get moving. Now.”
But David didn’t move. “At least listen to her.”
“I don’t have fucking time to listen. Move.”
“She’s right. If you really want her safe, if you really love her like you say, you’ll do as she says and leave her here. You know it’s the only way to ensure she makes it out of here alive.”
Oceane gasped and stood frozen, heart knocking in her throat, hardly able to believe what she had just heard. Her eyes pinged back and forth between Nieto and David, waiting to see what would happen next.
Nieto stared at him for a moment in stunned silence. She saw the exact moment he snapped, his face contorting with rage. “God dammit,” he snarled, and lunged toward her.
She shrank away, a cry locked in her throat but David shoved her to one side. Out of the way.
She stumbled and hit the corrugated metal wall with a thud, fell to her knees. When she scrambled up, pushing the hair from her face, her heart stuttered at the sight before her.
David and Nieto were facing off, fifty feet apart, each of them holding a pistol on the other.
Nieto’s hand never wavered. “David, put it down.”
“Let her go. We leave her right here in the tunnel and run for the boat. We’ll make it out. But we leave her here.”
“Fuck you.” Nieto raised the weapon.
They fired simultaneously.
Gunshots exploded, the sound amplified by the tunnel. Oceane screamed, her hands flying to her ears as she stared in horror. They were both down. She took an automatic step toward David. He had saved her. She had to try to help him.
But when she got up close, she saw it was too late. The bullet had pierced his heart. His chest wasn’t moving. His eyes were already vacant, staring up at nothing.
Nieto groaned from up the beach, cursing as he rolled to his side on the sand. “Oceane,” he gasped. “Come. Now.” He struggled to his feet, began lurching down the beach.
David was dead. She had to run.
She stood and whirled away, ready to race back up the tunnel. Escape Nieto and this whole nightmarish situation. But she hesitated, looking back the way she had come. What if there were more armed men at the other end of the tunnel?
“Oceane,” Nieto called back, his voice desperate. Rough. “Please. Don’t go.”
The plea turned the sand into glue beneath her feet, immobilizing her.
“Don’t leave me…” This time it was weaker, the words edged with a pain that sliced through her like a blade.
She made the mistake of turning around.
The sight of him sliced through her heart like a razor blade, blindsiding her. Blood covered his shirt. Spilled out from beneath his hand. The pain on his face was horrifying.
Something inside her refused to turn and run. Something too deep for her to understand that k
ept her there, staring at him.
He made it another four strides before falling to the sand. His head turned, his gaze seeking and locking onto her. “Oceane…”
Her heart broke at the despair on his face. She couldn’t leave him to die. Not like this.
Cursing, she broke from the tunnel, running toward him without conscious thought, dimly aware of distant shouts coming from behind her down the length of the tunnel. Her feet flew over the sand as she raced to the figure lying on the beach.
Sand sprayed up around them as she slid to her knees beside him, reached for his shoulder. “Father.” She didn’t know where the word came from, or the tears thickening her throat, making it hard to breathe. She just knew she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she left him like this.
He groaned, reached up a shaking hand to grip hers. “Oceane, listen…”
She helped him roll to his back, gasped. In the pale moonlight his whole chest glistened black, the scent of blood cloying and metallic on the warm breeze.
“I’m sorry,” he wheezed, one trembling hand reaching for hers. Clutching tight.
“Shh,” she said, shock washing over her at the amount of blood pouring from his chest, her emotions conflicted. Confusing. Even after everything he’d done, he was still the man who had once read her bedtime stories and treated her like his cherished princess. And right now, he was slowly bleeding to death in front of her.
Not knowing what else to do, she dragged his head and shoulders into her lap, put her hands on his chest and pressed down. She couldn’t leave him to bleed to death all alone. The part of her that remembered him as a warm, loving father when she was young kept her there trying to help him, while the other part that knew he was a monster told her to run.
If he lived, he would go to prison. She wanted both of those things.
“I never meant to…” He choked, convulsed in her arms.
“Don’t talk. Just be still. Help is coming.” She swiveled around, searching desperately along the beach for someone to help them. Had someone been running down the tunnel toward her or not?
“Only wanted to protect you,” he moaned, his grip on her hand frantic, bringing her focus back to him. “When I couldn’t anymore… Had to get you back… Any way I could.”
“I know. I know,” she soothed, not knowing what else to say. Much as she hated him, he was still her father. She would not leave him here to die on the beach. It wasn’t how she was wired. Not even with everything he’d done. “Be still, now. We have to get this bleeding stopped.”
“No. Too…late,” he rasped out.
She squeezed his hand. “It’s not.” She thought she saw shadows moving along the bluff. Could anyone see them? “Help!” she called out. “Someone help us!”
He tugged on her hand. She glanced down into his face. “El Escorpion,” he managed, and turned his head to spit out a mouthful of blood. “Know…who.”
She stilled, her heart thudding as his words penetrated the fog of panic swirling in her brain. “You know who he is?”
His lips moved, his eyes glazed with pain and a despair that sent a shiver ripping down her spine. “Ins…surance. F-for you.”
He was going to tell her the name so she had leverage to use to protect herself with if need be. Because he knew he was dying.
Tears clogged her throat. He was such a complex, confusing man. Making her hate him one moment, and acting like the protective father she remembered the next. Damn him.
Shoving all that aside, she leaned her head closer to his mouth. The name was critical in helping bring down the Veneno cartel. “Who is el Escorpion?”
“D-Diaz,” he gasped, his body writhing in the sand. Trying to escape the pain while his blood coated his torso, coating her hands, her lap as it seeped into the sand beneath them.
“Diaz,” she repeated.
“F-Fernando…Pa…Pascal…”
Fernando Pascal Diaz. The head. The man behind this whole evil empire. The man ultimately responsible for all the terror and devastation she and her family had suffered.
Her father groaned and went slack in her arms.
No. She shook him once. “No. No, you stay with me,” she ordered sharply, her voice cracking as a tear landed on his face. You can’t leave me too.
“I…love you,” he whispered, his body growing heavier on her lap. “Always h-have.” He took a horrible, rasping breath, choked. “Please… For…give me…”
She couldn’t answer for a moment, her throat was too tight, too many conflicting emotions tearing her apart inside. “Shush,” she ordered at last. “Don’t talk anymore.”
His eyes slid shut. His body went slack.
“Dammit, no!” She bent over him, cradling his upper body, commanding him to hang on.
Then a sound registered through the torrent of emotion crashing over her. Someone was yelling her name from behind her down the beach.
GABE’S HEART LURCHED to a halt when his gaze landed on the bodies crumpled up on the beach.
Oceane.
All he could see was her bent over someone. A man. The front of her light-colored shirt was covered in black.
Blood.
“Oceane!” His boots thudded on the sand as he raced for her. God, if she’d been shot—
She looked up, locked devastated eyes on him. “Gabe,” she cried out, the pain in her face crushing his chest. Nieto. She was cradling her father.
He skidded to his knees beside her, took her face in his hands, scanning her for injury. She was his number one priority. “Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice urgent.
“David. Nieto shot him,” she whispered brokenly, and turned back to bend over her father. “He’s unconscious.”
Gabe pulled her upright by the shoulders, forced her to look at him. “Oceane. Are you hurt?”
Tears flooded her eyes as she looked up at him. Then she shook her head.
His heart eased a few inches down his esophagus and he relaxed his grip. “Okay. Let me see him.”
She shifted out from underneath her father, still cradling his head and shoulders in her lap. Gabe set two fingers beneath the edge of Nieto’s jaw. He waited, detected a faint pulse.
“I need more room,” he told Oceane. She scrambled out of the way, gently laying her father’s head on the sand and hovering next to him.
Gabe leaned over and ripped the halves of Nieto’s blood-saturated dress shirt off him. Two bullets had penetrated the center of his chest. Given the position of the wounds and the amount of blood he’d lost, Nieto’s wasn’t going to live longer than another few minutes, if that long.
“Please. Do something,” Oceane begged. “I know who he is and what he’s done. But I don’t want him to die like this.”
He would have left the bastard to die, but there was no way he could ignore that plea. Gabe placed his hands over Nieto’s chest and pressed down hard in an effort to stem the bleeding, at the same time looking over his shoulder. Men were rushing toward them. Including Khan.
“Need you over here,” Gabe shouted to him.
Khan ran up, tossed his med kit on the sand at Gabe’s feet and knelt down to do a quick assessment. Two seconds later he glanced up and gave Gabe a telling look.
“I know,” Gabe murmured. “Just do what you can.” Maybe Nieto would pull off a miracle and survive long enough to make it into surgery. Then he could live through a trial in the U.S. and die at the end of his life sentence instead of here on this beach.
Khan started working, talking on the radio as he did, calling for emergency medical transport.
Gabe moved back, edged around to hunker down next to Oceane. He wanted to haul her into his arms so badly but she was totally focused on her father so he wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders in a silent show of support and tucked her close into his body.
She stared at Khan’s hands as the medic worked, her face pale, seemed to be holding her breath.
He hated that he couldn’t shield her from this and the coming pain. Chri
st. Wasn’t it bad enough that she’d watched her mother bleed out in front of her months ago? It was too fucking cruel that she had to watch her father do the same, even with their bad history. She was clearly distraught and desperate for him to make it.
Less than a minute later Khan stopped trying to get an IV into Nieto’s arm, pulled his fingers from the man’s pulse and immediately started chest compressions.
Oceane made a choked sound. She seemed to steel herself, then reached for Nieto’s hand. “I’m here,” she told him in Spanish. “You’re not alone.”
It was heart-wrenching to watch. Gabe slid an arm around her waist and drew her back, making room for the paramedics who had just arrived.
She resisted for a moment then stopped, her body rigid as he eased her to her feet and drew her a short distance away. He coiled one arm around her and reached his free hand up to cradle the back of her head, pulling her cheek to his chest. Her hands clutched at the front of his tactical shirt, fine, rapid tremors wracking her. “Did he hurt you?”
“N-no.”
The medics paddled Nieto three times before calling it.
Oceane made a low, devastated sound and buried her face in Gabe’s chest. He closed his eyes, tightened his hold on her. “I’m sorry,” he whispered against her temple. It was such a pathetic thing to say at a time like this, but it was all he had.
She started to shake harder. “I can’t,” she quavered. “I c-can’t take this. Please.”
Fuck. Making a snap decision he bent his knees, scooped her up and started carrying her down the beach as fast as he could.
By the time he reached the staircase that led up the slope, she was crying on his shoulder. Part of him was glad that she was able to release at least a little of her grief. She felt so damn good in his arms, he just wished he was carrying her under totally different circumstances.
Up on the lawn he stopped in a secluded spot of the garden where a screen of shrubs and trees shielded them from view of all the people crowding the yard. He would take her to the Mexican feds who were leading the taskforce in a minute, but not until she was calmer.
