by T. K. Leigh
“She can get justice for me, for Brock…for Lilly.”
“That’s enough!” Marjorie roared. A pair of strong arms ripped me away. I cried out, reaching for my father, wishing I could give him the comfort he needed as the life drained from him.
“I love you, Eleanor Jean,” he said while Bradley bound my arms behind my back, the zip tie cutting into my skin.
“And I love you, Dad,” I squeaked out. “I’m sorry I didn’t show you that more.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t do more to earn your love.” He closed his eyes, drew in a shaky breath, then his body went limp.
“No,” I exhaled, shaking my head, not wanting to believe what my eyes were showing me. “No, no, no, no, no!” I screamed out, fighting against Bradley to run to him. I looked at my mother with fiery eyes. “Why did you have to shoot him?”
“Makes my story a little more believable, don’t you think? Imagine my shock when I found out what your father had done. Associating with and taking payment from known terrorists and drug cartels. How I found out about one of his stash houses and tracked him down to it. How I confronted him, with Brock as my rock of support, but he just lost it. It was lucky Brock was here. He tried to protect me, but Francis shot him.”
Approaching my father, she brought the gun toward one of his limp hands. She pressed it against his fingers, making sure his prints, along with her own, were on the weapon.
“Blinded by fear, I knew it was fight or flight time, so I fought. I fought so hard, I was able to wrestle the gun away from Francis and fired in self-defense. I’ll act like the heartbroken wife as I try to come to terms with how I missed all the signs. Then, once he’s laid to rest, I’ll announce my intention to run for my husband’s vacant seat, to vow to put an end to the greed and corruption. That does seem to be a popular campaign platform these days.”
“And me? You think I’m going to remain quiet? Or are you going to silence me, too? Are you going to shoot me, too?”
Her lips turned into a sinister smile. “Not yet. As much as I’d like to, unfortunately, you have information I need.”
“And you think I’ll give you that when you’re just going to kill me anyway?”
She paused, her lips thinning into a tight line. “I’d considered that. Actually, Bradley came to me with a brilliant idea, something to motivate you to talk.” She paced in front of me, then went to the window, looking outside. “You’re probably wondering where you are, aren’t you?”
“The thought had crossed my mind,” I answered in a timid voice.
“Our host has been very gracious and accommodating. You may have heard of him.” She stopped pacing, turning to smile at me. “El carnicero de Tijuana? In English, it’s the Butcher of Tijuana.” She stepped back as my heart fell into the pit of my stomach, bile rising in my throat. Then her eyes shifted to Bradley, her voice becoming firm. “Take her.”
She grabbed her glass of champagne off the table and took a sip, acting as if she didn’t just order me away to be the next victim of a notorious drug cartel assassin.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
MY KNEES WOBBLY AND legs weak, I constantly tripped over my feet as Bradley dragged me through a large field. Tall, sharp blades of grass and straw cut my exposed skin. My teeth chattered, the sleeveless A-line dress I was made to wear not doing anything to protect against the chilly November air. The only buildings I could see for miles were the two-level farmhouse-style dwelling I’d just come from and a large warehouse-looking building a few hundred yards away. It appeared rusty, old, abandoned…isolated. I could scream and yell all I wanted. No one would hear. No one would find me.
No one was going to find me.
I drew in a shaky breath, looking at the stars above me for guidance. They twinkled against the night sky, and I wondered if this would be the last time I’d ever see them. If this would be the last time I’d breathe in fresh air, feel the breeze on my skin. My eyes floated to the half-moon. I recalled falling asleep every night for months, seeking comfort from the moon, knowing that although Dante and I were separated by miles, we could still look at the same sky, wish upon the same stars. It helped me through that difficult time in my life. I prayed it would be enough to get me through whatever awaited me now.
When we drew closer to the foreboding building, Bradley slowed his steps and pulled open the large, metal door. It creaked loudly in the ominous silence. He tugged me inside, my pulse skyrocketing, my breathing increasing the instant we crossed the threshold. It smelled like death, decay, and misery. I scanned my surroundings, my face paling. Nausea filled me as I hesitantly lifted my eyes to the ceiling. Rows of metal trellises containing hooks used to hoist up livestock for slaughter hung overhead. Long tables filled the space, blades and knives strewn on their surfaces. Ominous chains littered the dirty floor. Everything seemed old and rusty, giving the impression that this space had probably sat abandoned for years. Regardless, fresh blood stained the walls, the cement floor, the tables.
My chest seized as dozens of scenarios ran through my head. Beads of sweat formed on my forehead despite the frigid air. I felt weak, like I was watching a movie of someone else’s life play before my eyes, a thriller about a girl who’d been in the wrong place at the wrong time and was about to meet a very painful and bloody end. I steeled myself, reminding myself to stay strong, to do everything to keep the last promise I made to my father. I had to keep that promise.
Bradley continued to pull me through the slaughterhouse, pushing me to the floor near a grate in the cement. When he withdrew a knife, I tensed up. Giving me as comforting a look as possible in this situation, he sliced the zip ties from my wrists, quickly replacing them with a pair of rusted metal shackles. I tugged against them, but the chain connecting them to the wall made escape impossible.
The desperation of my situation hit me. As much as I didn’t want that woman who claimed to be my mother to win, she had. Even if Dante had come home and was looking for me, the first person he would go to would be Bradley.
No one was coming to help me, so I had to help myself.
With pure hatred in my eyes, I glared at him, spitting onto his shoes. I expected him to hit me, to put a gun to my head, something. Instead, he refused to look at me, turning around and heading toward the door. Before he walked out, he glanced over his shoulder and gestured to a heap on the floor a few feet away from me. I followed his line of sight, feeling like I’d been kicked in the stomach when my eyes raked over Dante lying on the dirty cement floor, blood staining his dingy shirt. His face was swollen, his lips dry, but I noticed a subtle hint of his chest rising and falling.
“What did you do to him?” I shrieked, a rush of adrenaline hoisting me to my unsteady feet as I used every ounce of strength to try to free myself from the chains binding me to the wall.
Bradley didn’t say a word, keeping his head downturned, his shoulders slumped. Then he left the warehouse, the ominous sound of the door locking filling the large space. Screaming, I struggled against the restraints, the metal cutting into my wrists as I did everything to break free and go to Dante, to wrap him in my arms, to kiss his face, to assure him it would be okay.
Growing dizzy, I collapsed to the floor, my throat tight from frustration, tears falling down my cheeks.
“Eleanor?” Dante’s voice cracked. He blinked, squinting through his puffy lids. He attempted to prop himself up, wincing. I wondered how long he’d been here, how long he’d been subjected to the kind of brutality that would result in his face being bloodied, bruised, and practically unrecognizable. “Is that you?”
“I’m here, baby,” I choked out, crawling as close to him as I could get. My fingers ached to reach out and touch him, to hold him, to feel his warmth.
He rolled onto his side, inching as close to me as he could manage with the chains keeping his own wrists tethered to the wall. It was torture being so close, yet just out of reach. I had a feeling that was all part of Marjorie’s plan. When he met my gaze, I could see the tears
welling behind his eyes.
“Bradley?” I asked, not having to embellish any further.
He simply nodded.
“Me, too,” I replied in a small voice.
“I figured as much.” There was despondency in his tone. “I’m so sorry, Eleanor. For putting you in this position. For getting you involved in this.”
“It’s not your fault,” I insisted. “None of this is. You don’t get to shoulder the blame.”
“I tried to protect you from this. That’s why I didn’t tell you that—”
“Marjorie isn’t really my mother,” I finished, frustrated I hadn’t seen all the signs before. I wondered how long Dante knew, how long he’d kept it from me. Did it really matter anymore? “Maybe if I didn’t let my animosity toward my father cloud my brain, I would have figured it out.” I blinked back a new wave of tears. “She shot him.”
“Who?” Dante pressed.
“My dad. It was all a setup. And she killed him.”
He opened his mouth to respond just as a loud clanging echoed in the large space. I quickly straightened my spine.
“Eleanor, listen to me,” Dante whispered, an urgency in his voice, the footsteps becoming louder and more ominous as they drew closer. “No matter what happens, don’t say a word. They want to find Cynthia. That’s why they’re doing this. Don’t give up her location. No matter what. Stay strong. She can make this right, can make sure justice is served. Just stay strong.”
“How do you know I know? And who are they?” I quivered, although I already knew the answer. I guessed I just hoped Marjorie was lying, that she simply said what she had to scare me. I glanced to the group of eight men, all dressed in black, walking with determined strides toward us. One familiar face was among their ranks — Bradley. The rest were tanned, their hair black as night, an evil sort of satisfaction on their faces as their eyes raked over our chained bodies.
“Cartel,” Dante replied, his voice barely audible. My body trembled, my muscles clenching as an icy wave washed over me. “Marjorie’s been using her connections to keep a clear drug line open between Mexico and the US for these guys. They owe her, and she’s collecting.”
I gaped at him, wondering how he knew all of this, wondering if he were in on it, too.
“The upside of speaking several languages,” he explained, reading my unspoken thoughts. “That’s how I know they think you have Cynthia’s location.”
“What are they going to do?”
“Silencio,” one of the men bellowed in a rough voice, causing me to practically jump out of my skin. He gave off the impression that he was in charge. “Gringo. Javi.” He nodded, and Bradley and one of the cartel members snapped into action.
Bradley walked toward me and pulled me to my feet. Still chained to the wall, his firm grip on my biceps kept me from sinking back down. The man named Javi headed toward Dante. He grabbed him harshly, forcing him to his feet. The way Dante’s face contorted in pain made me think he wouldn’t be able to stand on his own, that the instant Javi released his hold, he’d fall to the floor.
The man in charge slowly approached Dante, who immediately tensed up.
“Leave him alone,” I begged, a soul-crushing agony ripping through me at the thought of what Dante must have endured to get him to this point. His face had been badly beaten. I wondered what other bruises weren’t readily visible. I couldn’t stomach the idea of him suffering any longer. “I’m the one who knows where Cynthia Edelman is.”
“Eleanor, no,” Dante hissed.
“That’s what all this is about, isn’t it?” I pushed, my voice becoming louder. “You want me to reveal her location. He doesn’t know. You can hurt and beat him all you want, but he can’t give you information he doesn’t have. But I can. So take me. Hurt me. Just please, leave him alone.”
“You want to take his place?” the man asked in a thick Spanish accent.
“Yes,” I answered without a moment’s hesitation.
“Eleanor…,” Dante groaned, a desperate plea.
“That’s good to know.” Without warning, he reeled back, using the butt of his gun to land a hard blow against Dante’s cheek, blood from the force staining the cement below him. Javi propped Dante up, preventing him from falling to the floor, keeping him ready for the next assault. The rest of the men simply looked on as if it were a game, laughing to each other, some of them puffing on cigarettes as they enjoyed the show.
“What did you do that for?” I shrieked. “I told you! I’m the one with the information!”
A sly smile crossed the man’s face as he sauntered toward me. Licking his lips, he scanned my body, my black dress dusty from the grime and dirt covering the floor. I shivered as he approached and ran a finger from my sternum, down the length of my torso. I struggled to get away, but Bradley kept me locked in place.
“I’m well aware of that,” he responded. “I’ve spoken to gringo at length about the best way to encourage you to give me what I need. You see, I only get paid upon delivery of the information regarding the girl’s location and confirmation it’s reliable. Ten million dollars is quite a nice chunk of change.”
He leaned closer to me, his nicotine-scented breath making my stomach roll. He grabbed my thigh, forcing my legs apart, my eyes widening. I shifted my gaze to Dante, panic covering his expression as he used what little strength he had left to fight against Javi.
The man looked over his shoulder, leering at Dante and licking his lips as he continued. “And while I certainly considered letting each of my men have a go…” Turning his attention back to me, he ran his hand up my leg. I squirmed and writhed as he worked his way north, lifting the skirt of my dress and giving all his men a show. Then he released his hold on me. “I knew something that would be much more persuasive.”
He retreated from me, nodding at one of the men. “Pedro. Tu turno.”
“Sí, Miguel.” A muscular man of taller-than-average height threw his cigarette onto the floor, stomping it out, then sauntered toward Dante. Javi braced himself, widening his stance in preparation. Terror covered Dante’s face, a stark juxtaposition to the smile pulling on Pedro’s lips. Without a moment’s hesitation, Pedro swung, landing several hard blows in quick succession to Dante’s stomach.
Grunting, Dante tried to bend over to prevent any further assault, but Javi kept him upright.
“Stop!” I pleaded, tears streaming down my face.
“We can stop at anytime,” Miguel said in a mildly condescending tone. “That’s all up to you. You give us an address, it stops.”
“Don’t say a word, Eleanor,” Dante croaked out.
Miguel lifted a brow and I remained silent. “I should tell you…,” he continued, “this is all just a warm up. It’s always best to tenderize your meat before preparing it.” He glanced back at Dante. “You’re a chef. Isn’t that right?”
“Not a word,” Dante said.
I met his gaze, conflicted. I promised my father I’d keep the information to myself, but what if I could save Dante? It was selfish, but I valued his life above anything else. “But—”
“No buts, Eleanor. Don’t you want justice for what happened to your father? To me? To you?” He swallowed hard. “She may be our only hope.”
“In my experience…,” Miguel mused, “everyone has their breaking point. I guess we just need to see where yours is.” He nodded at Pedro, who quickly resumed his assault, his vicious attack not leaving a single part of Dante’s body undamaged.
Bradley kept me locked in place, forcing me to witness every agonizing blow, every spill of blood, every tortured grunt. And as much as I wanted to look away, I couldn’t. I needed to give Dante the strength to get through this, to find meaning in the torment he endured with each new assault.
The longer it went on, the more blood pooled at his feet, the louder the cracks of his ribs, the more difficult it was for me not to yell Cynthia’s address at the top of my lungs. As if able to sense my struggle, Dante simply peered at me through his sw
ollen eyelids, subtly shook his head, then uttered “more” for Pedro to resume his brutal attack.
I had no idea how long I watched this savagery, but I felt every single one of those punches, every single one of those strikes to his beautiful face, every single one of those blows to his stomach, more bones cracking under the sheer brutality of it all. I’d never witnessed something so horrifying, something so nauseating, something so debilitating.
“Pedro,” Miguel said after a while, his jaw tight, his arms crossed in front of his chest.
Pedro stopped mid-strike and looked at Miguel, who nodded for him to return to the rest of the group of onlookers. He grabbed a towel from one of the men, wiping his knuckles free of the blood that had accumulated on them. Javi released his hold on Dante, who fell into a heap on the floor with a loud thud.
Without saying another word, Miguel met Bradley’s eyes and gestured toward the door. Bradley leaned closer to me, his grip on me tightening. I tensed up, my heart racing, the feel of his breath on my skin making me sick to my stomach.
“Go to him,” he whispered in a barely audible voice. I wasn’t sure I’d heard him correctly. “Do not make a run for it. It’s a trap.” Then he released his hold on me and followed the group of men out of the warehouse.
I blinked repeatedly as I watched the door slam behind them, confused, wondering if I’d been so drugged up that I was imagining all this. Instantly, I heard the clanging of metal behind me. I looked down, seeing the shackles that had just been bound to my wrists clamber to the floor. My spine immediately straightened, my brows furrowed. My mind raced as I considered Bradley’s words. Could I trust him?
I shot my gaze to Dante, my heart shattering the instant I set my eyes on him. Rushing over, I knelt, hesitating, unsure whether I should touch him. I didn’t want to cause him any more pain, but I couldn’t stomach the idea of saying goodbye without one last kiss.
“Eleanor,” he groaned. I blew out a relieved breath, grateful he was still breathing, although I didn’t know how much longer he could endure this kind of cruelty.
