***
This was a mistake. Caterina had a sixth sense when it came to being watched. With each unsteady step, the hot gaze of an attacker loomed close. It wasn’t Rocco. Or Roman. Not that they’d attack, but both would certainly, carefully, drag her butt back to bed. The anxious tickle of dread screaming up and down her spine left only one option. El Mateperros. He wasn’t done with her. Well, good. She swallowed away the automatic nauseated-angry reaction at his name. She wasn’t done with him yet either.
But she was unsteady, She was also weak, injured, and in the worst condition she’d ever been in. She hadn’t come up with an attack plan. Her mind was too fuzzy to form really any plan, and her psyche had been too desperate just to escape. The only thing she had come up with was to get to her London studio, change clothes, and arm herself. Hell, that plan hadn’t even been planned. It only came to her when she realized how close the doctor’s house was to the flat.
But it didn’t help that her nemesis had sighted her and was tracking her, closing in. Readying for the kill. Or another assault. Probably both.
She spun around, ready to catch him, confront him. But she found nothing other than a roll of nausea. When she made it back to her studio, the first step would be to scour her cabinets for more painkillers and some Pepto. Outside a prescription for Valium, the pink stuff might be her only chance for easing the queasiness. She had to move fast, though. As soon as Rocco realized she was gone, there would be a very short list of places he would search: the hotel and her studio apartment.
He was going to be furious. Her heart seized, clenching in on itself with a dull ache that had nothing to do with the aftermath of a rape. He’d tear England apart to find her. She just knew it the same way she knew El Mateperros would come after her again. Would Rocco forgive her for sneaking out? Running away from him? She didn’t deserve forgiveness.
Then again, he’d called in Titan to deal with the Dog Killer. That breach of their trust hurt. Guilt tried to edge in for leaving him like this, but she stomped it away. She hated herself for her preoccupation, but not enough to try to stop it. How long had she been walking? An hour? But she’d only covered a few blocks.
The studio apartment was still very far away. She had no money for a taxi. No one would pick her up looking like a beaten hobo. What was she thinking? The hotel was closer. New plan. Head there. Rocco had weapons stashed in every corner of that room. She changed directions and started walking. Each step dragged. Her bruised legs cramped, and her foggy mind dulled her instincts.
Wait.
She couldn’t go to their hotel room. In addition to her attack, there had been a loud fight. Rocco might even have killed two men who could be connected to the ACG terrorist organization. Interpol likely had the hotel on lockdown. Pain killers were making this already bad idea a thousand times worse. Disorientation was beginning to take hold. Hazy outlook. Fuzzy mindset. Exhaustion had already set in. Think. Her on-the-fly plan was unraveling faster than she could say Dog Killer.
Slopping on the sidewalk, she took a breath, trying to figure where she was and what the right move could be. Her skin crackled. Instinct shook her senseless. She’d been stupid. Emotional. Medicated. And, now, unarmed and not ready, El Mateperros was coming for her, and there was nothing she could do. This spontaneous plan was now a full-fledged disaster. She could go back. She nodded. Yes, she would. Chalk it up to—
A black Mercedes pulled out of a driving lane and stopped in front of her. The window rolled down.
El Mateperros.
New plan: Suffer and survive but not die before he did.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A rapid rush of steps pulled Rocco’s attention from their Titan powwow. The doctor hurried into the room, red-cheeked and with a furrowed brow. How did Roc not see this coming?
“Goddamn it.” Even before the doc opened his mouth, he knew. “She’s fucking gone. Right?” His molars ground together, and he spun, punching the wall. “Goddamn it.”
“She’s gone?” Roman’s jaw hung slack. “The woman could barely stand.”
The doctor pointed down the hall, eyes wide and sticking his neck forward like a pecking chicken. “The security system—”
“Disabled. That wouldn’t stop her.” Rocco’s hand throbbed, but he wanted to punch the wall again because damn, that felt better than the fear shredding his heart. Instead, he ran his busted knuckles into his hair. What was Caterina thinking? He grabbed a fistful of hair and pulled. The sting bit his scalp, and he needed it.
Sudden concern that stress might trigger an attack sat on his chest. If he lost his mother freakin’ marbles in front of the guys, it’d be a career-ender. Not to mention that it would slow down their search for Cat. A buzz burned in his ears. He wasn’t sure if it was frustration that he hadn’t seen her move coming, rage that some asshole who’d attacked her was still walking around alive, or some busted side effect from falling in love. Bad for the heart, bad for the head.
He’d always be second to El Mateperros, and if they didn’t catch him and kill him, the Dog Killer would always be in their relationship.
“So…” Winters pushed off the couch.
“We go find her. This doesn’t change us finding El Mateperros, and that’s where she’s headed. No question.” Rocco paced. “Roman and Cash, hit the hotel. Winters, her apartment. Rendezvous back here in an hour, and we’ll have a plan for our next move.”
Now to decide what he would do. A thousand directions pulled him. The pounding in his head had nothing to do with hallucinations and everything to do with a sexy Spaniard. Man, she was gonna light him up, all spicy-sounding, and he couldn’t wait. Just as long as nothing happened to her.
“You okay, buddy?” Cash asked as they readied to head out the door.
“No, fucker. I’m not.”
Cash readjusted his cowboy hat. “Alrighty then. Someone else gets a shot.”
Roman met Rocco’s eyes. “Cash, I’ll meet you and Winters outside.”
Rocco pulled out his phone. He needed Parker to hack every damn traffic cam in London. They could pull every link, run it through whatever fancy technology Titan had, then Rocco could show up, throw Cat over his shoulder and enjoy the hell out of the tirade that was sure to come. Simple.
Roman held out his arm, hand bumping into his chest as he paced. “Hold up a minute, Roc.”
“What?” He glared at palm that brought his distracted ass to a standstill, then at Roman’s ugly mug.
“We gotta talk, man.”
Talking? No thanks. Next thing, Roman would be Kumbayahing it, trying to get him to calm down.
“No time.” Security camera feeds were more important than whatever Roman had on his mind. Rocco punched Parker’s number. Jared would be the next call, but he couldn’t waste time explaining to Jared that Caterina had run off on a suicide mission, barely conscious and recovering from a major injury, while Parker could be working. “Parker—”
Roman growled to get his attention. “I know.”
Fuck. I know? Is that how that conversation would start every time? And this time, now?
Parker’s voice carried from the phone. “What’s up, Roc?”
“Hold on.” He pulled the phone down and hit mute. “So what? Deal with it later.”
“You need to tell me if you can handle whatever has been happening to you and still get your girl.”
“Nothing in the world will keep me from getting her back safe and sound.”
Roman’s forehead pinched. “Do you even know what’s wrong with you?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care. Not right now.”
“Roc—”
“Move your ass, Roman. That’s a goddamn order.”
“Rocco. Chill, dude. Clear your head. We’ll get her. She’ll be okay. You’re my boss. I get that. But you’re my buddy too, and I’m not doing shit until I know you aren’t going to get yourself, your girl, and everyone else here killed. You got me? Orders or not.”
Rocco took a deep
breath. Didn’t help. Instead, his fist flew opposite Roman and the pain from hitting the wall was a perfect distraction from the jumbling BS in his brain.
Roman didn’t look any more convinced. “Feel better?”
“A little.” He shook his fist. Flares of sharp pain radiated up his forearm. “That’s why Jared sent you here, right?”
“One of the reasons.”
He spread his fingers then bunched them into a fist. Nothing broken. “Jared knows?”
“Yup. That’s true, but he trusts you. As do I. So if you say you’ve got this, you’ve got this.”
Fuck, man. Honesty would get this conversation over with. “Yeah. Not one hundred percent sure the how and why, but I’ve got this.”
Roman scrubbed his jaw. “If you want to know what’s going on, I can give you what I know. Titan’s not exactly HIPPA compliant, and knowing that you were losing your mind everyone now and again was mission critical.”
Rocco rolled his eyes. There were no secrets, medical or not, on their team. He knew that, even if he’d wanted to ignore it. Roc worked his throbbing hand, grateful for the distraction. “Tell me what Tuska and Jared said, and let’s be done with it.”
“The New York hospital didn’t know what you were poisoned with. Sent it off to some high and mighty facility.”
“Knew that.”
“Report came back and ended up on Doc Tuska’s desk. He called Jared—”
“What did it say, Roman?”
“It was a discarded government experimental drug. Meant to be truth serum but had a nasty hallucinating side effect. Random but eventually stops.” Roman shrugged. “Until then, you’ve got a nightmare on your hands.”
“Sounds about right.”
“It sucks. You should’ve seen the doc, dick. He can’t do anything about it, but at least you would’ve known.”
Rocco shook his head. “Nah. Jared would’ve benched me.”
“I think you don’t give the prick enough credit.”
Maybe. Maybe not. Why push his luck when he’d just landed his dream job? He needed to wrap his hand in ice instead of thinking about how Jared would or wouldn’t have reacted. “What about Cash and Winters? They know?”
“Nope. Dude’s not a gossip, if it wasn’t mission critical, I wouldn’t know either. So, no, no one but Jared, Sugar, and me know.”
“Cat knows.”
“All right. A select few who care about you.”
Rocco’s head bobbed, agreeing. “I’ll scour the world to find her.”
“Figured that out, buddy.” Roman walked to a window and looked out. “Hell, I’d expect nothing less.”
“But I won’t put Titan in danger. Ever.”
“Ten-four, dude. Ten motherfuckin’ four.”
“So we good?”
Roman turned and gave him a chin lift. “Solid.”
They walked toward the door. Rocco’s hand throbbed, knuckles bleeding, but he slapped Roman on the back. “No joke. Thanks for whatever we’re about to do.”
***
Excruciating pain woke Caterina. Hogtied and woozy, she felt her stomach jump into her throat. Her body wanted to wave a white flag in surrender. Every part of her ached as the floor vibrated beneath her. A steady whirring noise made an already impossible headache worsen. Turbulence hit the same second she realized it was an airplane floor that she kissed.
“She is awake.” A thick accent called over the noise of a plane’s propellers.
How long had she been out, and where were they going?
“Get her up.”
Rough hands jerked her tied arms. Pain sprung in her shoulders and arm sockets. The raw burn between her legs pulsed.
Nothing can bring me down. Not pain or death. I will survive until I don’t, but he will go first.
The seconds after she’d seen El Mateperros’s Mercedes were a blur in her memory. A thug got out, grabbed her, wrapping something over her face. Then nothing. Whatever she’d been dosed with made her unsteady, but the man who’d grabbed her off the floor now propped her in a chair. She blinked, trying to get her bearings. Everything was gold-plated. Caviar and crackers decorated fine china that clattered with each bump in the air.
El Mateperros sat across from her, and her heart took off at a sprint. Sweat sprung across her body. He didn’t lunge for her, didn’t do anything but tap the tips of his fingers together. But still, he’d hurt her so badly that she reacted simply by seeing him. “Yes. She is awake.”
Caterina hid her tears and her fear. Everything that boiled within her. “I am awake.”
“You are not afraid of me.”
Hell yes, she was. “No, I am not.”
“Why?”
“I’m not afraid of anyone.” Lie after lie spilled from her cracked lips while vomit threatened.
“Interesting. And tell me, how did you meet your husband?”
What was this? A conversation between old friends? “What do you want with me?”
“Humor me, Mrs. Locke.” He cupped his chin in thought. “I do not even know your first name.”
“And I’m not in the mood for small talk with the sick fuck who raped me.”
El Mateperros’s lips ticked up. Not quite a smile but there was pleasure there. A bevy of emotions rolled through her again.
Guilt. Rocco would kill himself looking for her. She searched the airplane cabin for any sign of where they were going. Fear. When he found her, would she even be alive? He would find her. Wouldn’t he? Even if she were dead? Denial. She couldn’t be sitting across from him. Damn it… Depression and disappointment. Titan was never going to find her.
El Mateperros finished off a cracker. “What is your first name?”
What did it matter? “Caterina.”
“And your maiden name?”
Another round of emotion pushed through her pain. Determination. “Cruz. Ever heard of it?”
“Cruz? Commonplace, I suppose. But no, I know no Cruzes.” He went back to steepling his fingers, and Caterina looked around the plane’s belly and counted five things she could use to bring him to his knees if only she had the access and the strength. A water glass. A seatbelt. A Mont Blanc fountain pen. An apple. The rope wrapped around her wrists.
“Too bad you don’t.” She shrugged, trying to fake courage and strength. “You should know the reason I’m going to kill you.”
Genuine shock crossed his face. His mouth dropped open, and his head tilted. “Tell me, Caterina Cruz Locke. Tell me why I will die.”
She’d waited her whole life to throw what he’d done in his face. “You killed my family, and I will kill you.”
He dropped his head back and coughed a doubting cackle. It crackled across her skin, washing away all of her wooziness and pain. She was a woman on a mission.
El Mateperros checked the time on his Rolex. “What you know of me may be incorrect. Rarely do I kill anyone. That’s what I have people for.” He stretched in his seat. “I was born poor and grew up realizing how I could escape the crappy streets in Algeria. I made a name for myself—”
“My family was murdered on the beaches of Dehesa de Campoamor by your hand, or your order. I do not care.”
The sarcastic laughter stopped. He paused then strained a gaze at her. “You don’t say.”
“I do.”
He dabbed a spread on a cracker and slowly ate it. After finishing the cracker, he finished the rest of his drink then raised the empty glass. “Allah’s not what drives me. Maybe in the beginning. But your family’s death—”
“Massacre.”
He inclined his head. “Massacre. Their demise turned me into a household name in some circles. They were how I earned my nickname.”
“You ruined my life.”
He studied her while snacking. “Interesting. If that’s what people need to keep my name on their tongues, let them have it. They’re still talking about me, and that’s what matters.”
“Excuse me?”
His cold eyes fired, excited.
“Do you know my favorite Lady Gaga quote?”
“Wh-what?” Her eyes pinched shut. She couldn’t tell if she’d lost her mind or if this was some insane reality. “No. I can’t begin to imagine your favorite quote by anyone.”
“I’ve always been famous. It’s just that nobody knew it yet.” He looked out a window, stroking his cheek. “Soon they will know.”
Her jaw unhinged. “This is all for…some sick kind of fame?”
“This? What I do?” He shrugged. “Yes.”
She shook her head. “There’s something wrong with you.”
“Yet, I’m flying in a Lear Jet. Eating caviar. I’ve got a beautiful woman at my disposal. So it seems as if there is something right with me.” He smeared another cracker. Ate it. Stared at her.
On the surface, he was a very pretty person. Some might even go as far to say a beautiful person. In a purely physical review, all the parts worked. But something evil and rotten festered in him, ruined his mind. He was a psychopath or a sociopath. Something.
And that something refilled his glass from a crystal decanter. “I had plans for you, but now they’ve changed.”
“Por que?”
“Good question. You will make an excellent addition to my team.”
If she thought her stomach had bottomed out before, she was wrong. Now it had. “Excuse me?”
“Fool me once, shame on you. But fool me twice.” He clucked. “I thought there was something special about you. After our visit earlier—”
“When you raped me.”
He smiled, and it was magazine model perfect. “After our visit, and when I saw your husband in action, he seemed less of a meat-head and more trained operative than I gave him credit for.”
Visit? “Rape.”
“A little more nosing around, and my researcher turned up a fascinating theory based on an interesting rumor. Have you heard of the Titan Group?”
“Vete al infierno.” Go to hell. He could rot there for all she cared.
“Titan, we believe, was responsible for kidnapping one of my lieutenants. And even more interesting are the rumors of a very attractive intelligence gatherer who worked my lieutenant over before his demise.”
Savage Secrets (Titan #6) Page 19
