“Where are your men?”
He laughed. “Those traitors? Dead.”
“You’re alone?”
“I am never alone. I am too wealthy to ever have to be alone.”
I glanced around. My eyes had adjusted. The warehouse seemed empty.
“Where’s my brother?”
“I’m sorry. It was too dangerous to bring him here.” He held up a phone. “Now that you have kept your word. I will call, and he will be let go. But first I must disappear. That is part of the requirement.”
Fury filled me. I tried to quell my temper, knowing it would interfere with my ability to reason with this asshole, but I couldn’t control it.
“This is bullshit. Let my brother go. I’m here. That was the deal.”
“After I’m gone. They have orders to let him go as soon as my plane leaves the ground. No sooner. I can no longer be EL Loro. I must start a new life.”
“What do you want with me?” I asked. “Why aren’t you gone already? Is your hatred and desire to kill me more important than your own freedom?”
“That is what I am here to talk to you about. Come in. Close the door.”
El Loro held up his hands again. “I am unarmed.”
I glanced around. “Where are your men?”
“You don’t need to bother yourself with them.”
I hesitated.
“If you want to see your brother alive again, you must do what I say.”
That’s when I drew my gun and stepped inside letting the door slam behind me. A few small lanterns were lit in the corners.
“Good girl.”
“I’m not a girl.”
“True,” he said, eyeing me.
“Let’s get this over with,” I said, holding my gun out in front of me. “Say what you’re going to say then get the fuck out of here so your men will let my brother go.”
“Your stepfather? Vincenzo Santangelo. You can reach him.”
I narrowed my eyes. “What are you talking about?”
“I need his help. To disappear.”
“Don’t you have enough powerful friends to help you or did they all desert you when you went to prison?” I asked. His mention of The Saint had sent fear trickling through me. The Saint was protecting my children. The last thing I wanted was any connection between El Loro and him.
He didn’t answer. I took a few steps closer. “I’m giving you to the count of ten to say whatever you need to say, get the fuck out of here and give me my brother back.”
“In five minutes, we will be done,” he said.
He was humoring me. He knew I was all bravado, bluffing. I had nothing. I had no way to get him to release Dante. If I shot him, I’d never see my brother again. I let my gun arm fall to my side.
“That’s a good girl.” He stepped closer. I raised the gun.
“Stay back.”
He held up both hands and I lowered the gun. “Fine. What I have to tell you is about our mutual friend.”
It took me a second, but I realized who he was speaking about. The corrupt senator.
“Corbin?”
“Yes. He has put me in a precarious position. He has, let us say, greased the hands of those in control and is offering to trade information on me to regain his freedom. He has made me a very wealthy man and now it is time for me to go enjoy retirement. But now he is trying to change the rules. He wants to trade information on me for his freedom. A horrible mistake on his part.
“I find now that his influence is very great in Miami. My plans to leave here undetected have gone awry.”
“I don’t care,” I said. “I still don’t know what you want with me. Or my brother. Last I heard you were trying to kill me.”
“Alas, plans have changed.” He nodded. “You are right to doubt. But you must believe that I tell the truth. My apologies on the attempts on your life. They were a way to maintain my reputation, to regain the respect of my men. To send a message to those who would come after me in the future. My enemies know that I never forget a wrong. But none of that matters anymore. My days as El Loro are over.” He held out a cell phone. “Give me his number. The Saint. He is the only person I know who has the resources I need to disappear.”
“The Saint? If you think he would help you, you’re crazy. You tried to kill me. He would never help you. Why don’t you have some of your own men help you?”
He hesitated. That’s when I knew. He’d lost all his power. He was nothing now. A man afraid and on the run.
“The Saint would help me because he would want to save his grandchildren. Maybe not for them, but for his wife’s sake.”
His fucking trump card.
My blood ran cold. “What are you talking about?”
Just then his phone rang.
He didn’t speak only listened then a wide smile spread across his face.
“Ahora.” Now.
What now? Killing Dante?
Another door behind him burst open and I saw the silhouette of two figures. The two men shuffled into the light. One was holding a gun to the head of the other. The man at gunpoint was barely recognizable, his face was so black and blue and swollen, but my heart leaped into my throat.
Donovan.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Once Donovan stepped into the dim light, I stifled my gasp. He’d been beaten to a pulp. One eye was so swollen shut, I couldn’t even tell if there was even an eye still in there somewhere.
I wanted to run to my husband, but I tried not to let my feelings show.
The man behind Donovan turned them both slightly so I could see the muzzle of his gun digging into Donovan’s back.
El Loro scoffed. “Your husband is DEA, and yet he was foolish enough to follow you here. Now, I have you both for a second time. It is absurd. I can’t believe two people so stupid are still alive.”
Donovan wouldn’t look at me.
El Loro swiveled his head my way.
“Now, you give me The Saint’s number.”
I shook my head. His face grew red with anger.
“You can tell me or I will kill your husband.”
“You won’t do anything of the sort,” I said. I was bluffing. My voice was steady, but my insides flip-flopped with fear.
“You are a mother,” he said. “You will sacrifice your husband, but you will not let your children die.”
“You stay the fuck away from my children or I will kill you right now.”
He ignored me. “My men are tracking their flight out of San Francisco now. Here is what I offer. You give me the number for The Saint. I will speak to him first. Once he has agreed to help, you no longer have to worry about your children’s lives. I will call off my men.”
He cleared his throat. “However, if you do not give me his number, my men who are tracking the flight will proceed as ordered. They will find your children and kill them. In the most painful way possible.
“But it doesn’t have to be this way. Give me his number. We call and make a deal. I disappear. Your children live.”
He held the phone out again and repeated his request.
“Give me his number.”
“No.” Donovan’s voice was ragged, as if it cost him great effort to speak. “No, Ella. No. No matter what—no. You can’t trust him. He will kill us both and then hunt down our children and kill them. If you give him an inch, the children are as good as dead. He’s probably going to trace the Saint’s number somehow and it will lead him to our kids. Don’t believe a word he says.”
“Shut up!” The gunman growled.
“Donovan.” I was at a loss for words. I didn’t believe anything El Loro had said except that he was tracking our children.
“The number. Now,” El Loro said.
I ignored him and met Donovan’s eyes.
He shook his head, slowly but firmly.
A sob caught in my throat.
There was no hesitation. I would sacrifice my husband’s life—and most likely my own—so that our children would live.
When I met Donovan’s gaze, I knew he felt the exact same way—it would be worth it.
I turned to El Loro. I pushed my shoulders back, inhaled deeply and then met his eyes with as steely a resolve as I’d never felt in my life. He narrowed his eyes.
“Tell me. Now.”
I shook my head. “No. Never.”
Out of the corner of my eye, I could see Donovan’s shoulders slump in relief and heard him say, “Thank God.”
El Loro lifted his chin, and a shot rang out.
Donovan fell to the ground.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
The warehouse filled with gunfire and shouting and smoke and my own screaming and yet somehow in the chaos I raced toward my husband, trying to make it to him before the bullets shredded into me.
A small army had stormed the warehouse. People ran, shouting, shooting, slamming doors open and shut.
But nothing mattered except me getting to Donovan before one of the bullets found me.
Even though my path was accompanied by the deafening sounds of gunfire, I made it to him without being shot. I kneeled and frantically patted at his chest, looking for the wound so I could staunch it. That’s when it struck me. His eyes were open, and he was looking at me.
My hand drew back from his chest, wet, but not with blood, with sweat.
“They shot you?” I looked around, dazed.
“They shot him.”
I turned my head slightly. The gunman lay dead with a bullet wound to the temple. His eyes staring up into nothing.
Turning, I saw Eva standing there, hands on her hips.
“Goddamn it. He got away.” Her face was red with fury. Her hair partly out her ponytail. She was breathing heavily.
The rest of the warehouse was empty, a back door ajar, letting sunlight stream in. One of her men, a short guy with green fatigues on, hoisted El Loro’s dead gunman over his shoulder and slipped out the door.
“I don’t know what—” I began, uncertain what to say to her.
Shaking her head, she spit on the ground and was gone, the door slamming behind her.
“WHO WAS THAT WOMAN?” It was Jesse from Donovan’s crew in the doorway of the warehouse. He let out that same low whistle. “I think I’m in love.
“Good luck with that,” I said. Lights flickered on in the warehouse and I saw Jesse and Smitty and Kenny. They started our way.
“And she brings her own Cleaner?” Kenny said. “They take the bodies with them? Goddamn. I like the way she works. A lot less red tape when the cops get here.”
“You’re late,” Donovan said to his men. He was still on the ground.
I looked around. There was blood everywhere. No bodies. I wondered how many had died. I was weak with relief that Donovan and I were still alive. We both were still sitting on the ground. I clutched his arm. I didn’t want to let him go.
Smitty was in front of Donovan. “Sorry, boss, they took off before we could stop them.”
Donovan started to get up, but then his legs gave out because he plopped right back down. Smitty must have seen the worry on my face because he leaned down and hoisted Donovan up, holding him around the waist.
“Jesus Christ, boss, look at your face,” Jesse said and let out another low whistle.
“Pretty boy ain’t so pretty. Now you just badass, boy.” Smitty said. “But seriously man. That’s gotta hurt like a motherfucker.”
“You don’t know the half of it.” Donovan said dryly.
Hearing him bantering with his men reassured me. He was going to be just fine.
“We’re lucky we found you at all,” Kenny said.
Smitty glared. “Kenny’s right. You took off. All we saw were taillights, man. You were gone.”
“How did you find us?” I asked.
Donovan leaned over, propped up by Smitty, and extracted a small, round black thing from the heel of his boot.
“Aha,” I said.
“I should’ve put one on you,” he said, giving me a look.
“I’m sorry. You understand why I had to leave you in Guatemala.”
He exhaled loudly but nodded his head. “I know,” he said in a quiet voice.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
Donovan got the message that I was at the motel and showed up just as I was driving away. He followed me and when he got to the warehouse, pulled around back. As soon as he got out of his car, a man jumped up from a stack of old tires and held the gun on him while another man beat the living crap out of him.
Then the one man brought him inside the warehouse
“My only excuse is I haven’t slept for three days. My reflexes were slow, man,” Donovan said.
“No shit,” Kenny said. He got out a cell phone and punched in some numbers. “Yeah, this is DEA agent Kenneth Lawson. We’re going to need a rig here for an injured agent. My superior actually.”
Donovan scowled. “I can drive myself to the hospital.” He reached for the cell phone and nearly lost his balance. Kenny held it high and kept speaking, giving the 911 dispatchers our address.
Smitty settled Donovan on a bench near the front door.
“Just close your eyes, baby,” I said, rubbing his arm. I tried not to look at his face. His beautiful face was a pulpy mess. He must be in so much pain and yet he didn’t say a word.
Soon, Donovan’s breathing was regular. He’d fallen asleep. Leaning over, I whispered in Kenny’s ear. He nodded and handed me a set of car keys. I slipped them into my pocket.
I waited a few minutes until I heard the wail of sirens. I was torn. I didn’t want to leave Donovan until I knew help had arrived, but I also knew the clock was ticking for Dante. I turned to Donovan and gently shook him. “The ambulance is here. I have to go now.”
He frowned.
“He’s got Dante.”
Before he could answer, I was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Outside the warehouse, there were two cars parked. An FBI looking Crown Vic and an obnoxious Hummer. Sirens wailed in the distance. I had to hurry. I clicked the alarm button on the keys Kenny had handed me.
The lights flashed and the horn chirped on the Hummer. Figures. Before sliding in the driver’s door, I dug into my jeans and withdrew the tiny slip of paper that Pete Fernandez had given me.
I turned out on the main road just as a convoy of emergency vehicles zipped past me. The skies on the horizon had grown black like night even though it was still only early afternoon. Apparently, a wicked storm was coming in to lash Miami, along with the tsunami.
As soon as I left the rural highway and got onto the I-95 to Miami, I passed an endless stream of cars heading north.
I turned on the radio. They were evacuating the coast. Miami residents were being told to head north immediately.
I glanced down at the address Pete Fernandez had given me. It was in Miami. I punched the accelerator. The clock was ticking.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled off the freeway and followed the Hummer’s GPS directions navigating me through luxury neighborhoods. I was driving along the coast, and the horizon looked gray and ominous. Large dark clouds swooped overhead, and the palm trees whipped.
The GPS led me to a gated community. I stopped at the guard shack, ready to give a bullshit sob story about my elderly aunt still in her home but then noticed the shack was empty. Keeping my eye on the Hummer’s screen showing the address, I spotted it while I was still a few houses away. I pulled over and looked for any movement. The address was to a large modern three-story home that was all stucco up front but I knew would be all windows facing the ocean. The same gray SUV I’d seen at the warehouse was parked out front.
For a second I was surprised, but El Loro had probably never counted on me finding him here. He was relaxed. A huge mistake.
I tucked my gun into my back waistband and on foot, cut south to the beach, cutting through a small space between houses.
Glancing at the ocean, I saw that the tide was out. Too far. The tsunami. I had t
o hurry. A boardwalk ran the length of the beach behind the luxury homes. I race-walked at a slight crouch until I was behind the house.
I hopped a small wall separating the boardwalk from the backyard. Immediately I ducked into a flowered bush. After a second, I peeked out. The entire back wall of the house was windows, but I didn’t see a soul.
Several large widows were open to the elements. Big billowy curtains blew in the wind. The room was filled with plush, upholstered furniture. A chandelier hung down to nearly the top of a massive marble dining room table facing the beach.
Keeping my eyes trained on the windows, I raced over and tried the handle on a set of French doors that swung open. I dipped inside, keeping my back to the wall. My gun nestled in my waistband, pressed tightly against my spine. I was reaching for my gun when I heard a voice.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
“You have come to kill me?”
El Loro was standing at a bar with his back to me, fixing himself a drink. I heard the clink of ice cubes and the sound of liquid pouring.
“That. And to get my brother.”
“You can get your brother without killing me, no?”
“Can I?”
He shrugged.
That’s what I thought.
“I have no choice.”
“You always have a choice.” He turned and began walking toward me.
I lifted the Glock, pointing it at him. “You came after my family. You threatened my children. You bastard.”
“Ah,” he nodded and kept walking toward me off to one side. “They are your Achilles heel.”
He walked past me and around me, toward the wall of windows and the ocean. I swiveled, keeping my gun trained on him. He was so casual, seemingly unconcerned that I was holding a gun on him.
“Fuck you.” I felt the urge to spit on the floor like Eva did. Pure, hot fury will do that.
Beyond him, on the horizon, the water had disappeared. It had been sucked out to sea where it was probably amassing in a wall of death waiting to come crashing down on us, destroying everything in its path.
“You don’t really want to kill me,” he said, taking a drink of the amber liquid in his glass while keeping his eyes trained on me.
Blessed are the Merciful Page 7
