“Enrique, you’re my oldest son. I love you, but don’t talk back to me or second-guess me again. Do what you’re told and shut your fucking mouth.”
Enrique’s shoulders tensed, but he kept walking. I followed him. I didn’t have a choice. The only thing keeping me from throwing myself down the stairs was Ryker’s promise he’d find me tonight. A few more hours and this would be over. One way or another.
Enrique flung open the light brown wooden door. I halted, unsure what to do.
“What are you waiting for? A fucking invitation?” His rancid breath washed over my face.
“No.” I shook my head as I stepped through the opening.
“Take a fucking shower. You smell like shit. I don’t want to have to tie a bandana around my face when I come back for you tonight.”
He slammed the door and locked it. The room was better than the basement. Almost anything would be better than being chained to a wall in a room with a dead body. I shivered.
The room had a twin-sized yellowed cot on a metal frame and a barred window on the far side of the room. I opened the door next to me. It was a small bathroom with floor to ceiling square sky blue ceramic tiles. A showerhead came out of the center of the ceiling with a rusted floor drain directly below it. A white wall-mounted sink and a toilet with a cracked seat were located on opposite walls.
Briefly, I considered refusing to shower so Enrique would leave me alone, but in the end I turned on the shower and stripped off my clothes.
My blood and Raul’s blood mingled, staining my hands and clothes. Sweat and dirt coated my skin. I couldn’t comb through the snarled strands of my hair. I needed to scrub the memory of the last few days from my skin. Maybe then I could gain some much-needed clarity and perspective.
I stepped under the shower and cranked the rusted lever. The pipes banged against the wall. Icy russet colored water poured from the ceiling. My breath hitched and then evened out when the water warmed. I stood under the weak spray longer than I should have, given my circumstances, but a shower had never felt so good.
Chapter Eight
Ryker
“This is it. We’re here,” I said.
I pulled the black SUV over to the side of the road. As planned, the two SUVs behind us followed suit. I had divided us into three teams. Noah and I would hike up the side of the mountain and enter through the back door. Rick would wait here until I contacted him. He and his team would neutralize the men guarding the driveway. Eric and his team would hike up with Noah and me, and enter the safe house through the front door. Eric would engage and kill anyone in the building. Noah and I would find Hattie.
We had less than thirty minutes to accomplish everything once we broke down the doors. If we didn’t make it out by then, we were fucked. Juan’s reinforcements would show up, and the helicopters lifting us out of the remote location would flee or risk being shot down.
I picked up my gun from the center console and slid it into the holster around my chest. I slipped on the tactical headset. Then, I opened the car door and looped an X95 assault weapon around my shoulder. The X95 had quickly become my go-to gun. Israel Weapon Industries created the gun to combat modern terror threats.
“Ready?” I asked, tipping my head in the direction of the hill in front of us.
“Yep,” Noah answered as he slipped a grenade into his black vest.
“Let’s move.” I motioned to Rick’s SUV. He saluted. Then, I waved Eric and his team forward. “No talking on the headsets until we’re inside.”
Without further instructions, we disappeared into the foliage next to the street. We all knew our roles. We all knew what was at stake. No one could leave until we rescued Hattie.
Every step over the dense undergrowth sounded like a land mine detonating in my ears. My hands twitched. My heart thrashed inside my ribcage like a feral animal from a sickening concoction of fear and excitement.
In the past, I wasn’t personally invested in the outcome of any mission. Sure, I wanted to be paid, and I wanted my client to be satisfied. After all, if things didn’t work out, it’d look bad. But none of that compared to the emotions simmering like lava through my veins as I hiked up the hill. If I didn’t walk out of the safe house with Hattie alive and well, I’d lose my shit. I’d kill every last member of the Alvarez Cartel, their family members, their friends and neighbors.
As I ate up the distance between Hattie and me, my insides festered with raw anger and my fingers itched for revenge. I forced every errant cell in my body to stay focused on the end goal. I conjured an image of Hattie in my mind.
Her soft smile.
Her topaz eyes.
Her long legs.
Her crisp, clean scent.
Her flawless skin.
She captivated my thoughts. She possessed my heart. She owned me. She’d always own me.
And I fucking ruined her. I abducted her. I manipulated her. I tainted her with my love, but not any longer. Once I rescued her and healed her, I’d set her free. I’d give her anything and everything she needed to have the perfect life she deserved. Then, I’d sever every last connection so she wouldn’t have to worry about who’d come after her next.
My heart seized and then shriveled two sizes at the thought of living without her, but love meant sacrifice. I accepted it and tomorrow I’d embrace it. I pushed thoughts of the future out of my head and concentrated on the present.
I paused at the edge of the tree line, just out of the line of sight of the safe house. Dim yellow lights flickered from the windows, taunting me. I held up my open hand, signaling for everyone to stop. I crept forward, keeping inside the shadows, surveying the exterior of the building. After I had made a circle around the entire perimeter of the house, I lifted my hand, signaling that four people were outside the safe house. Then, I raised my arm above my head, pointing my index finger straight up and my thumb parallel to the ground, indicating the guards had rifles.
I didn’t know what we’d encounter inside, but for now, we outnumbered them. I sucked in a gust of sticky, humid air, struggling to unravel all the twisted emotions and thoughts flitting through my mind. Conflicted emotions and dread of the future would only cloud my judgment. I needed to be unfeeling. Mechanical.
If Hattie were dead, I’d be irreversibly broken. Life wouldn’t be worth living. If Hattie was alive, I had to destroy us, and I’d live the rest of my life without her. Either outcome would suck. At least if she were alive, I’d know I had done everything I could for her. She’d still be breathing the same air and inhabiting the same world as me. That had to count for something.
With a flick of my hand, I waved my piecemeal army forward.