And how the heck did she not know that he was former DEA?
Just my luck I’d fall for a former drug enforcement agent.
She would laugh if she could find any bit of humor in that statement. Instead, she searched her memory. Had they ever really discussed his past career? Atlanta’s Finest all had either military backgrounds or law enforcement, but Zenobia had assumed Angelo was a former cop.
How could she possibly tell him about her involvement with the Cameeso Cartel without letting him know how ignorant she’d been back then?
Through the reflection in the patio door, she saw that he had sat on the edge of the bed. He was leaning forward, his elbows on his thighs and his gaze on the floor.
Zenobia wrapped her arm around her midsection as she stood looking out over the backyard. Normally, the view of the manicured lawn, beautiful flowers, and the waterfall connected to the pool brought an internal peace she couldn’t get from anywhere else. Not today. Today, the dark clouds that hung low and the storm brewing outside resembled the chaos circling inside of her. She was being forced to relive a time she never thought she would survive.
Secrets destroy.
Sofia’s words rattled around inside Zenobia’s mind. No truer statement had ever been spoken.
Thing was, the secrets of her past weren’t brought on by her. She’d been the victim countless times because of the secrets of others.
“Tell me about the cartel, Zenobia.”
“I wasn’t with them willingly, despite what you might think,” she spat, bitterness dripping from each word.
She kept her back to him, not wanting to see judgment in his eyes. If a person could like and hate someone at the same time, that’s how she currently felt about Angelo.
How dare he force me to remember…
Zenobia closed her eyes and lowered her head. Her shoulders dropped as she released a long, drawn-out sigh.
Since the day they met, all Angelo had ever tried to do was help her. In the process, he’d put his life on the line twice to keep her safe.
He had also captured her heart.
It wasn’t his fault that her past was riddled with crap that nightmares were made of. He didn’t deserve to have her back to him. If she was going to share a little of her story, the least she could do was do it face-to-face.
Zenobia turned to him. Her heart pounded so hard inside her chest, she was sure he and everyone else in the house could hear it.
“Tell me,” Angelo said quietly, and she lifted her gaze to him. He was now standing near her dresser, his muscular arms folded across his chest. The distance between them was more than just spatial. The last eight hours of their sexual interlude was a distant memory, and in its place… Mistrust. Disappointment. Confusion. She could see all three in Angelo’s eyes. At least he was no longer scowling at her.
“Twelve years ago, I lived in Miami,” she said, her voice cracking on the last word. She cleared her throat, determined to tell him what he wanted to know without breaking down. “While I was doing some waitressing at a small diner, a guy kept showing up. He came every day for at least three weeks, always sitting at one of my tables.”
Zenobia stared up at the ceiling as her mind took her back to that time. There were days when her life in Miami seemed like yesterday. Other times, it seemed as if that horror happened a lifetime ago.
“At first, I was standoffish to his blatant flirting, but after a while I enjoyed our banter. He was extremely charming, super fine, and he was a big tipper. His tips alone in one week almost covered my rent for that month,”
Granted, she had lived in a crappy studio in one of the worst neighborhoods, but still. The money had come at a time when she needed it most.
“After about a week, he started asking me to go out with him. Each time, I said no. I was young, dumb, but smart enough to know that he was probably a drug dealer. He was flashy with his nice jewelry, his BMW, and wads of cash. So, I kept saying no, but appreciated the tips.
“Then one day, everything that could go wrong, did. Actually, it had started the night before, when I got home and someone had broken into my apartment.”
Zenobia bit down on her bottom lip and blinked back the tears. Anger and grief warred within her, clogging her throat. She’d always wondered if there was some dark cloud following her around for a large chunk of her life.
Angelo started toward her, but she held up a hand. He stopped. If he said anything or touched her, she’d fall apart, and he wouldn’t get his answers.
“I had a shit life,” she continued, her voice thick with anguish until she cleared her throat. “The little I did own, someone either stole or destroyed that day.”
Zenobia sniffed and swiped at a rogue tear. “The day after the break-in, I had to go into work. It took every bit of motivation I could muster to get there. I hadn’t given up on life, but I’d been close. A person can only take so many knocks before saying I quit.
“When I got to the diner, there were a dozen roses with my name on them next to the time clock. I didn’t have to guess who had sent them. All I knew was that they were right on time. A few minutes later, my admirer sat at my table and asked me out again. I said yes.”
“What was his name?” Angelo asked.
“Leo Cameeso.”
Angelo didn’t speak. He glanced away but not before she saw something like fear in his eyes. Rubbing his chest, he took a step back and bumped into the side of the dresser.
“Angelo?”
His gaze shot to hers, and then his expression softened. “Go on,” he prompted.
Zenobia told him about how she and Leo had dated a few months. He had wined and dined her, paid her bills, bought her a new wardrobe and showered her with attention. At eighteen, alone and broke, she mistook the material things and his attentiveness as love. When all along he’d been grooming her for a different type of life.
Leo introduced her to his father. At the time, Zenobia hadn’t known much about the family. She had no idea his father, Lance Cameeso, was the most dangerous drug kingpin in Miami and Mexico.
She quickly learned that he was also the most heartless, and he’d been grooming Leo to be the same. The man she thought she loved, had lured her into her own personal hell. Leo’s whole intent when it came to her was to give her to his father, a man who was into human trafficking.
Emotionally spent, Zenobia stopped talking. She had shared more with Angelo than she’d ever shared with anyone, even Kira. Her cousin knew about some of her past, but not everything. Zenobia and Kira hadn’t known each other existed until Zenobia was put in foster care.
Who knew her mother had a sister? Not Zenobia. Just one of many secrets her mother had kept. Her newly-found aunt had become Zenobia’s guardian, but after a few months, decided she couldn’t care for her own child and Zenobia while working two jobs. Zenobia was returned to the state’s custody.
It wasn’t until she moved to Atlanta over five years ago that she and Kira reconnected. Monty ‘Rock’ Rockwell, of all people, had been responsible for reuniting them.
“How’d you get out?” Angelo asked.
Zenobia stared at him. She heard his question, but her mouth wouldn’t open. It was as if her brain couldn’t form the words bouncing around in her head. Or maybe it was that she didn’t want to respond. She had already said too much.
She startled when Angelo grabbed both of her hands within his, as if knowing she couldn’t tell the rest without support.
“How’d you get away from Cameeso?” he asked gently.
“Sofia.”
“Sofia?” Angelo squeezed her hands as they stood face-to-face. “How did she get you out?”
“She…” Zenobia started, not knowing how to tell him about Sofia’s role. Instead, she said, “The Cameesos had me under lock and key. There were guards always on duty with machine guns in their hands. It was like something right out of a mafia movie. Even though the elder Cameeso told me I was special and no one was to touch me, I was a prisoner. I coul
d either cooperate with him, or…”
Tears sprang to Zenobia’s eyes and she tried to pull away, but Angelo wouldn’t let her go. She swallowed hard, struggling to keep her composure.
“He said he would…he would kill me if I tried to run.”
“How long were you at their compound?”
He even knew they lived on a compound. There was no way she could tell him the whole story, not if she intended to keep the agreement she had with Rock. He’d done too much for her to betray him in any way.
“Months,” Zenobia said, deciding to only answer questions related to the Camesso Cartel. “There were a couple of other girls, but after a while, it was just me he kept at the house. I found out by accident that he was involved in human trafficking.”
Zenobia shook her head and tugged her hands free of Angelo’s hold. “I can’t do thi—”
“I need to know what happened. Baby, I need you to trust me.”
The sincerity in his eyes was almost her undoing. She didn’t understand why he needed to know all of this. How could she leave the past in the past if he was insisting on her reliving it?
“Trust me,” he repeated.
“One night I was able to sneak into his office, and I called Sofia. I didn’t know if she would help me, since the last time I’d seen her we’d had a big argument about me dating Leo. She knew of him and his family from when she lived in Mexico. All she’d said was, ‘stay away from him’. I was so stupid. God, if only I had listened.”
“What happened when you called her?”
“I told her I needed help. That the Cameesos had me. I didn’t get to say more. A guard caught me in the office. I might’ve been considered special to Lance, but that night…” Zenobia shivered at the memory as tears blurred her vision. “Lance beat me so bad I only remember snippets of the days that followed.”
This time Zenobia couldn’t stop the tears that spilled from her eyes and choked her voice. When Angelo pulled her into his arms, she went willingly and cried harder, soaking up his warmth and strength. She shook violently as deep sobs racked her body. There were days she still couldn’t believe that she had survived. So many people didn’t live to tell about the wrath of Lance Cameeso.
Zenobia didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually her tears slowed, and she started to feel a little steadier on her feet.
“I’m sorry,” she said, wiping her face with the sleeve of the sweatshirt.
“You don’t have to apologize. I’m sorry you went through all of that. I had no idea.”
“I know. After Lance beat me, I lost consciousness. It was the last time I saw him. I woke up at a clinic in Mexico with my head bandaged. Part of my face had to be reconstructed.”
“Who—”
“Sofia was there,” Zenobia quickly interrupted, afraid he would convince her to share more than she could. “All I can and will tell you is that her family got me away from the Cameeso cartel.”
Angelo sucked in a long breath, then released it noisily as he ran his fingers through his hair. “Christ, Zenobia. Why didn’t you tell us?” he asked with so much anguish in his tone. “This is the type of shit you should’ve told Mason and Hamilton during that initial meeting.”
“Do you honestly think I want everyone to know how stupid I was back then? I allowed a slick-talking drug dealer to charm me, then lure me to his father, a misogynistic psycho who got off on hurting women. More importantly, I let fear keep me there. Do you know how many times I’ve beat myself up for not trying hard enough to get away?”
“Just stop, baby. Doing undercover work for the DEA, I’ve been up close and personal with some of the most merciless drug dealers. You wouldn’t have stood a chance against them. I’ve seen firsthand how they mistreat women and the people they deem their enemies. Human life means nothing to them.”
The misery in his tone made Zenobia wonder just how many dealings he had with drug cartels. The torment in his eyes made her want to reach out and hug him.
“One drug dealer in particular didn’t think twice about blowing up some of my coworkers. I will never in my life forget that day. If that compound where you were held was as heavily guarded as some I’ve been to, you would’ve gotten yourself killed trying to escape.”
Heavily guarded was an understatement. Lance had his lackeys stationed at every inch of the place. They either worshiped the ground the man walked on, or they were too afraid for their families to go against anything he said.
Zenobia rubbed the back of her neck, so ready for this conversation to be over. “That was my past, Angelo. They’re all dead now. Lance, Leo, the entire cartel no longer exists. So, there is no reason for me to relive that nightmare by discussing this further with you or anyone else.”
She started to move away from him, but he gripped her shoulders, forcing her to look at him.
“Are you for real right now? You think just because a cartel has been disbanded that they can’t reorganize?”
“Wh—what?” Her blood chilled at his words. “You…you think the Cameeso Cartel have rebuilt?”
Angelo pulled her into his arms, his chin resting on top of her head as he held her close. “Sweetheart, there’s always a possibility. For our sake, I pray to God that’s not the case.”
Chapter Nineteen
An hour later, Angelo sat in the living room of the guest house, located behind the main house, numb from the story Zenobia had shared. He should’ve asked more questions. It was a horrifying tale, but he knew there was more. He had heard too many similar horror stories during his DEA days, but this one gutted him deeper than he could imagine. God only knew what else they did to her besides the branding.
The brand.
Knowing those assholes burned her gorgeous body made Angelo want to reach into their graves and kill them again. At least the symbol was well hidden. Most of the cartel women had been branded on their hip. Where Zenobia’s mark was located, the side panel of her bra hid it well. But still…
Angelo leaned forward in the upholstered chair, his elbow on his thighs and his face in his hands. He growled into his palms. No matter how much work the DEA did to rid the streets of miscreants like the members of the Cameeso Cartel, it would never be enough.
He prayed his suspicions weren’t right. That the group hadn’t reassembled.
But he knew better.
He sat up, huffed out a breath and glanced around the cozy space. The two chairs and side table faced a wood-burning fireplace that looked like something straight out of a hunting lodge. There were no photos, paintings, or décor gracing the off-white walls. The original maple hardwood flooring was the best feature in the space. The one-bedroom, one-bathroom place was nothing fancy, but it suited his needs while he got his thoughts together.
He needed answers.
Pulling the cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans, he dialed Jared. It rang twice before his friend answered.
“I guess if you’re calling me, you’re no longer mad about me asking you to come back,” Jared said without preamble.
“Nah, I’m still pissed.” Angelo stood. He walked into the tiny kitchen and leaned against the butcher block countertop. Facing the window that gave him a view of the pool, he said, “I need some information.”
“What do you need?”
Angelo had done a little research on his phone while Zenobia had been in the shower, but he needed information that couldn’t be found on the internet. “What do you know about the Cameeso Cartel?”
“I know that you’re the second person in a matter of weeks who has asked me that same question.”
Angelo straightened. “What? Who else is asking?”
“One of our Miami agents heard chatter about some new halcones trying to take over a couple of territories,” he said, using the Spanish word for what some groups called street soldiers. “A couple of their lieutenants used to be aligned with the Cameeso Cartel.”
“That’s not good.”
“Tell me about it. We’re s
till collecting intel, but it looks like one of the territories they’re after is Rock’s.”
“So, the rumors about him trying to go legit aren’t true?”
“Oh, no, they’re true. I gotta hand it to the guy. He’s cleaned up his shit and kept his head down. But we know that ain’t gonna last. It’s only a matter of time before we get his ass for a couple of murders we think he was behind.”
Angelo shook his head, not wanting to hear anything about Rock. Even if he looked good for those deaths, he wasn’t in custody because there were too many layers between him and the little people. The man wasn’t sloppy. He was smart, ruthless, and thorough. He also had enough power to get people to admit to crimes they never committed.
“That was one of the reasons I wanted you to go back undercover,” Jared said, pulling Angelo’s attention back to the conversation. “All we have to do is leak that Johnny Garza is alive. Reincar—”
“No,” Angelo said simply.
As far as he was concerned, Johnny Garza was dead. Angelo had used that identity for years to go deep undercover in Rock’s organization. Those days were gone and never to be revisited. Johnny died during his last op, where they’d lost several DEA agents in an explosion while trying to get to Rock. There was a death certificate to prove it.
“Tell me more about the Cameeso Cartel,” Angelo said, steering Jared back on track.
“Like you, I don’t know a whole lot about them. Just some basic shit. They were out of the picture by the time you and I joined the Miami office.” Angelo heard Jared typing. “I do know that was around the time Rock scooped up some solid alliances. He—”
“Damn, Jared. Why do all of our conversations have to circle back to Rock?”
“Dude! If you’d shut the hell up for a minute and let me finish, you’d know why!”
Angelo huffed out a breath. “Fine. Continue.”
“Rock was instrumental in wiping the Cameeso Cartel off the face of the map.”
No surprise there. During the few years Angelo spent in the man’s organization, Rock was serious about keeping other drug dealers and gangs out of his territory. If he was involved in getting rid of the Cameesos, then…
Betrayed (Atlanta's Finest Series Book 5) Page 16
