by Keta Kendric
I decided to take a chance and sat up, my weak arms trembling under the weight of my sluggish body. The crinkling of the seat alerted my movement as I rose with caution. The click of a gun sounded, sending a strong charge of fear through me. I froze, halfway up.
“I won’t cause any trouble,” I choked out, my throat so raw and dry, it ached like an open wound.
Since I had been taken before, I knew the routine. I also knew what I was about to say would likely get me laughed at.
“I have to use the bathroom. Badly.” The movement had awakened the ache in my screaming bladder.
“If you give us a reason to, we will knock you back out,” the man sitting next to me informed, his voice stern.
“No trouble,” I replied and eased the rest of the way up in the seat. A quick peek at the dash clock showed 4:02 in the morning. We had literally been traveling all night. I sat stiffly, with my back flush against the seat, attempting to put more pressure on my lower body, since my pee sat at the tip of my urethra sphincter, attempting to force its way out.
“Next stop,” the co-driver ordered from the front seat towards the driver. Thankfully, they hadn’t denied my request for a bathroom break because my bladder trembled with the need to be relieved. The prickling irritation was crawling up and down my legs.
Five heart-pounding, butt-clenching, leg-shaking minutes later, the driver was finally pulling into the darkest, most unsafe-looking gas station off the highway. He drove up to the pump, climbed out, and prepared to pump gas.
The guy next to me exited and called in after me. “Let’s go.” I followed through his open door. My trembling legs barely functioned, but I forced them to get me to where I needed to go. The windy darkness surrounding the place pulsed with an edge of danger that had me believing I was safer in the vehicle with my unknown captors.
Any chance of escaping was dashed away because the man stayed within arm’s reach of me and followed me into the ladies’ room like he belonged. He waited at the sink, his hand at his side near his pistol, in case I tried anything.
I held the lopsided door to my stall closed for privacy as I hovered and soothed my bladder on wobbly legs. Relief at releasing my swollen bladder caused me to exhale a sigh despite the company hanging out in the bathroom with me.
His gaze followed when I exited, washed my hands, and was desperate enough to take a sip of water from the dirty sink. When we stepped out, I noticed the man from the passenger front seat standing outside the door to deter anyone from entering the bathroom while I had been inside.
We headed back to the vehicle in a group. The looming men in their dark suits walked on either side of me. There was no one around that would consider my situation strange and report it to someone. We all climbed back into what I noticed was a dark gray Range Rover. The windows were tinted an intense dark shade.
After ten minutes of being back on the road, my curiosity was starting to drive me crazy. I was determined to remain on their good sides, but I couldn’t help wanting to know my fate.
“If you don’t mind my asking, where are you taking me? Who are you taking me to? Are you going to kill me?”
The man next to me snickered, the driver huffed, and the front passenger glanced back, keeping me pinned in his gaze.
“You’re definitely not going to be killed. However…” he paused before releasing a teasing grin. “You’ll probably hate your new husband enough to want to kill yourself,” he stated.
What?
Arjen Vallin wasn’t the man I wanted to be with, but I don’t believe he was bad enough to make me want to kill myself. Who was this new husband they were taking me to meet?
For someone that hadn’t had a boyfriend for six very lonely months, I was now engaged to a big-time arms dealer, was pretty sure I was in love with his brother, and was being driven to someone else that I was apparently going to marry.
“Who am I engaged to now?” I questioned. “I don’t understand what’s going on. I was promised to Arjen Vallin.”
“Angel Ramirez,” the one next to me announced. “He has been talking about you nonstop and already threatening our lives if we didn’t bring you back by any means necessary,” the front seat passenger volunteered. “We’ve lost ten men over you, all while attempting to avoid a war.”
Ten? War? What was going on?
“Angel Ramirez? Why would Angel Ramirez want to marry me? I’m engaged to Arjen Vallin.” The news sent my mind in a million directions, connecting to horrific ideas, each with its own tragic outcome.
“You are set to be wedded to Angel. That’s all you need to know,” the man next to me stated. The finality in his tone didn’t stop me from asking more questions.
“How did I come to be engaged to Angel Ramirez? Are you the guys who have been stalking me for the last few weeks? Why does he want to marry me? I don’t have anything to offer him.” I continued to question them, but the more I asked, the more tightlipped the men became.
The last hour of the trip had me on pins and needles and in distress about what awaited me once the vehicle stopped. One horrific image after another, flashed through my mind of me living the rest of my life in a dungeon.
Angel Ramirez, the head of one of the most notorious Mexican Cartels, known as the FA, was as notoriously whispered about as the Vallins. The FA were known for beheading people and setting off fear in anyone they deemed a threat.
How had I ended up becoming the fiancée of Angel Ramirez? I couldn’t compute how I would be on his radar unless it had something to do with the Vallins. Did they have beef with the FA? Was this the type of trouble being married to a Vallin would bring?
My eyes fell closed, and I attempted to shake away a chill that froze my skin and stiffened my back. This had to have been all a big mix up. The prayers I was chanting in my head grew louder and more intense when we left the interstate.
We met scenery that was no more than wide open dusty land as far as the dark windows would allow my eyes to see.
When the vehicle slowed, I stretched my neck, eager to see where we were. We drove along a long stretch of paved road that led to the entrance of a residence set apart from the town.
Even in the dark view, I picked up the shadowed, but serious postures of the armed guards with machine guns. The closer we drove, the more the light surrounding the property provided a better view. I didn’t miss the motion detectors and cameras all over the place. There were at least three buildings surrounding a multimillion-dollar gated and guarded mansion.
The house was well-appointed, tall and stately, brick with large windows, but with squared angles like a prison. The lights surrounding it shone up from the ground and cast it in a sparkling glow that highlighted its enormous size and luxurious features. Angel had money, lots of it, which meant he held a substantial amount of power as well.
My internal prayers started to turn into desperate whispers. Danger. I sensed it digging in deep and folding me in its suffocating grip. It seemed the only doorway I was destined to pass through would send me into a future bathed in danger.
An endless array of horror flirted with my mind as I was being escorted from the vehicle. Thick dark clouds loomed low and blocked the waking sun, but they moved fast in the sky like they were being chased by something horrific.
The guards gawked when I made my way towards the front door and stepped through. A few members of the house staff stopped and stared at the lowly lamb being led to the slaughter. The key to my unknown fate had been placed in the hands of another dangerous man.
After I was marched into the house, my upper arm in my escort’s tight grip, we entered the formal dining area. I was allowed a brief glance before a stiff finger pointed to the large, beautifully-crafted thick wooden table.
“Sientate aqui,” the man ordered me to sit. Thanks to Mecca, I knew some Spanish, so I took the seat as directed. Why was he speaking Spanish now when he had spoken perfectly fine English during the drive?
The sensation of overwhelming hopelessness
had taken over and slayed my heart. When a man that I assumed was Angel Ramirez walked in, my attempt to stop the flow of my tears was useless. I had reached a state of emotional overload. The smile that spread over his face as he scanned me was an appreciative one.
“Hola,” he greeted. I nodded once, and stared, too filled with grief to render a verbal reply. “Parate,” he ordered with the wave of his hand, and I stood, quickly. Not pissing him off was likely all that would keep me from meeting his other side.
Men with names that incited fear always had a side you never wanted to meet. I prayed he didn’t break off into rapid Spanish that he expected me to understand because my vocabulary was limited.
“You’re even more beautiful than your pictures,” he complimented. “But, your pretty little face and body is not the reason I went through so much trouble to get you. I know where your true value lies,” he snickered, tapping his index finger to his temple. His accent was thick with his Mexican heritage, but his words were expressed with an edge of properness to them.
He didn’t stop his approach until he was standing before me, staring down on me. He placed a strong finger under my chin and lifted my head to meet his dangerous dark brown gaze.
“Don’t cry, sweetheart. I’m rich, powerful, and good-looking.” His finger brushed my tear-stained cheek, and I shook from the effort it took to keep my sobs from escaping. After staring for a long while, Angel turned and left me alone without another word.
My heart was crushed by the stress of being a defenseless pawn on a board with the most powerful pieces. It hurt worse, knowing that I had no say in what was happening in my life.
Images of Khane kept me from collapsing into a burning pile of rubble. Our short time together had been one of the best things to happen to me. When I was with him, I forgot about the dangers that surrounded me. He had even managed to make me forget that he was a hit man for his family and one of the most notorious crime syndicates in the world.
The guard that had been in the back with me during my transport re-entered the dining room after I’d sat for countless minutes staring at the food the maid had placed in front of me.
Aside from guzzling water, I barely glanced down to notice the nicely-garnished plate with a fat omelet and sweet bread. I was sure the food was delicious, but I was too flustered to eat.
“Are you finished?” the man questioned in a gruff tone, standing over my shoulder. I nodded since my throat was too clogged with sadness to reply. “Let’s go. I’ll take you to your room.”
The man led me up a flight of stairs, and I followed without resistance. There was no point in trying to escape. Armed guards were everywhere, inside and out, and the long stretch of land we had crossed to get here was probably teaming with coyotes and rattlesnakes.
The man sprang the bedroom door open, tossed in a head gesture, and proceeded to post up outside the door. When I stepped into the room and made an attempt to close the door, he stopped me, leaving it open a few inches. They weren’t going to allow me my privacy. I couldn’t even cry in peace. That was when I officially accepted that I was a prisoner.
How was I going to survive this newest twist that had uncurled itself into my already chaotic life?
34
Khane
I swept my tongue over the dry skin of my busted lip as I nursed a splitting headache. The metallic taste of blood lingered in my mouth and my mind tried to force-feed me images of Desiree being tortured by her captors.
Arjen had dished out a few good knocks upside my head before I was pissed enough to hit him back. His fucking hard-hitting hands were like iron fists connecting with my head.
His rigid voice rang out like a siren as he cursed out his protection detail behind me. We were still inside the study that looked like two battle-crazed Vikings had fought with their best death instruments.
While Arjen and I had been arguing and fighting, his six-man detail had been distracted enough that they had allowed Desiree to leave without protection. Now, she was out there alone and probably taken by now. I was never going to forgive myself if any harm came to her. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if I didn’t find her.
Every nerve, every thought, every instinct within, wanted to destroy whatever was in front of me until I found her. However, I treated this the same as if Arjen had gone missing. Patience, attention to detail, and accepting help would get her back before I turned the world into a living hell.
“Two motherfucking hours! She could be any-fucking-where by now. She could have hopped on a plane and be halfway across the fucking U…S…A by now. Mother Fuck!” Arjen yelled at the top of his lungs.
The only comfort that we had was that she didn’t have a death note out on her head. If so, they would have stopped at nothing to kill her at the spa. We would have also received an image confirming her death.
If she had been taken, it was likely for ransom, and despite my brother wanting to kill us, I knew he would stop at nothing to get her back. He knew her background as well as I did. She was a hardworking woman who had been attempting to live a normal life, and had never gotten into any trouble. She was loyal to her family despite them being the sole reason she had ever faced any kind of danger.
If Arjen didn’t care, he would have brushed our affair off and gone out and fucked the first woman that caught his eye. Instead, he stared daggers at me, his jaw continued to tick, and his fist continued to clench and unclench as he paced a hole in the floor.
Even if my brother proved me wrong and didn’t go after Desiree, death was all that was going to stop me from finding her.
Our first task was to track her down, hopefully before she was found by an adversary.
Arjen had gotten so used to being feared that he had relaxed his standards where protection was concerned. The fact that his men had been distracted enough for her to get away revealed our weaknesses and our complacency. It wasn’t that the men he hired weren’t qualified. Most were ex-military and members of the syndicate, but the men were going to follow the example of their leader.
“If we don’t get her back within the next forty-eight hours, you’re all fired. I don’t care what the fuck was happening, she should have had eyes on her at all times.” Arjen shouted at the men, although it was our fault that Desiree had gotten away.
He knew, as well as I did, that anyone associated with us would be targeted from the start. It’s why we had placed Desiree and Mecca under protection. There were as many people inside our organization as outside that wanted to see us fail, hurt, or dead. There were two groups after Desiree that we hadn’t identified yet. We believed that the ones searching for the Bookkeeper may have been a one-time event, but we still hadn’t proven it without a reasonable doubt.
Arjen turned back to the men, his eyes wide with fury, “And from the six of you, one of you might just die tonight.”
This was the part of my brother that struck fear in the hearts of the people who knew him. The men knew of his reputation, had seen him in action, but he hadn’t had to assert his authority in so long, they had forgotten.
I didn’t have the patience to deal with finances, employees, or setting rules and guidelines. I received a task, made a plan, gathered what I needed, and made shit happen. I was notorious for taking on Arjen’s hit-list from the syndicate to avoid the monotony of those types of tasks.
I probably put in more work than my brother, tracking down and cleaning up messes of the humankind, but I’d rather not deal with people unless I was studying them to kill them.
Tap! Tap!
The shots from Arjen’s silenced weapon were followed by the spray of blood from one of his guards. The man’s heavy body thumping to the floor may as well have been a bomb going off. The men surrounding the fallen man weren’t the kind of men who scared easily, but my brother had managed to freeze them in fear.
My glance fell to the man leaking his head contents before I returned my attention to the surveillance footage that had been sent from Tywin. Arjen w
as crazy. A different kind of crazy from me. His nickname was Loud, but it wasn’t because he had a big mouth.
He was notorious for delivering acts of untimely deaths to many, just as he had just demonstrated. None of those men would have ever suspected that one of them would die this night, by the hand of their boss, no less.
Arjen, in my opinion, was the most dangerous type of crazy. His was rational and always with a clear cut reason. If he had chosen to kill one of his men, he had a reason other than to release his anger.
He must have known something about the man, a side deal he had cut, selling information, or proof of him snitching or feeding our enemy information. Some detail that labeled him a rat, a rapist, or one of the few things Arjen wasn’t going to tolerate.
Knowing my brother the way that I did, he had known of the man’s secret, weeks, or even months ago, but rest assured the man had been marked for death the entire time. Whatever the reason my brother had killed that man, it wasn’t the reason that the others assumed. However, it was delivered at a time when he needed it to count.
“If we don’t get her back within the next twenty-four hours, one more of you will die,” he promised the men with a menacing glare. I noticed he had changed his recovery time to twenty-four hours to entice a stronger sense of urgency in the men.
However, I was sure, blowing one of their friend’s head off in front of them was incentive enough for them to do whatever it took to help find Desiree. “Now, clean this up and figure out where the fuck my fiancée is.”
When Arjen got like this, I didn’t mess with him because he couldn’t be reached to be reasoned with. His goal, upset with me or not, would be to find Desiree. I believed he enjoyed the drama of solving life and death situations. I also believed he carried as much guilt as I did for letting Desiree slip through our fingers. A text drew my attention, alerting that Tywin had arrived.
