“Three.”
My vision swirled, and I closed my eyes so I didn’t collapse on the floor. Enrique ensnared me in a nightmare, and I couldn’t wake up.
“Two.”
“Him,” I screamed as my stomach plummeted.
Pop!
A gunshot exploded, ringing in my ears. My heart stopped for a frozen second. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. Time fractured.
“Good choice, Miss Covington,” Enrique said. “I was starting to question your sanity.”
I pried my eyes open. Raul’s lifeless body was sprawled out on the floor. Inky blood spilled from a hole in the center of his forehead. Vacant eyes stared sightlessly at the ceiling. His lips were lax. Blood splattered the ground behind him like an experiment in modern art.
Sobs bubbled from my lips. I was a murderer. I chose my life over his. He wanted to help me, and I repaid him by ordering his death. I wanted to curl up and die. I deserved to die. I was evil. Ice crystals formed in my veins. I gagged and swallowed simultaneously, fighting back my nausea, but it didn’t work. Chunks of the watermelon and white rice reversed course, spraying my sneakers.
“Why?” I cried as I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. Tremors conquered my body one muscle at a time until my entire body shook.
“Because I didn’t have a choice.” He pulled a white cloth out of his back pocket and tossed it in my direction. “Have a good night, Miss Covington.”
“Are you going to do something with his…?” My voice faded to silence, and I angled my head toward Raul’s body.
“No. I thought you’d enjoy some company.” He laughed. “I’ll think of a way for you to show your gratitude later.” Enrique turned and strutted out of the room, slamming and locking the door. I could hear him humming as he walked down the hall to whatever hell he came from.
I slid down the wall and covered my face. Guilt consumed me inch by inch, creating a crater-sized hole in my stomach. I couldn’t look at Raul’s lifeless eyes. I felt like I had an anchor attached to my ankle pulling into pool of quicksand. I was drowning.
Drowning in guilt.
Drowning in self-pity.
Drowning in pain.
Drowning in heartache.
I didn’t even know if I wanted to be saved.
Chapter Four
Ryker
“You think she’s here?” I pointed at the pictures covering Ignacio’s desk.
“I’m eighty percent certain that’s where she’s being held,” Emanuel responded, lacing his fingers together on top of Ignacio’s desk.
I snagged one of the pictures off the desk and studied the dilapidated, two-story, white stucco building. Black crisscrossed bars covered all of the windows. Twisting green vines crawled up the columns bracketing the faded wood front door. Glass blocks spaced every couple of feet circled the bottom of the first story of the home in a linear pattern, indicating the home had a cellar or a basement.
Seventy-two hours had passed since the Alvarez Cartel abducted Hattie. The deadline for returning Anna Alvarez had officially expired. Juan had threatened to dismember her part by part after the deadline, starting with her fingernails and moving on from there. Rage simmered in my gut at the thought. If he or any of his minions hurt her, I’d kill every last one of them and tear them to pieces with my bare hands.
“I need to know for sure. If we show up at this place and she’s not there, they’ll find out and kill her.”
Emanuel licked his lower lip and looked away. “You’re right, but this is all the information I’ve got right now, and I don’t think I’ll receive new intel any time soon.”
I crumbled the picture and tossed it on the desk. “What happened to your informant? You said he’d know her exact location by now.”
He rolled his shoulders. “I haven’t heard from him in over a day.”
“Is that normal?”
“No,” he answered without elaborating. “But it’s not entirely unexpected either.”
I massaged the back of my neck. “Should we be worried?” Every hellish second that elapsed without seeing Hattie made the anxiety festering inside of me corkscrew tighter and tighter around my chest until I could barely take another breath.
“It’s not a good sign.”
“Meaning?”
“He’s probably dead.”
I ran my fingers through my hair. “Do you think Juan Alvarez knows he was working for us?”
He lifted and dropped one shoulder. “He knows we have informants inside his organization just like we know he has them inside the Vargas Cartel. It’s irrelevant.”
“What the hell’s that supposed to mean?”
“In drug cartels, there is no such thing as loyalty. Money and power are the only things that matter. People are loyal to whoever pays them the most. Juan understands that. He expects it. We all do. Even Ignacio.”
I leaned over, bracing my hands on the desk. “And what about you? Are you loyal? Or are you following wherever the money leads you?”
Emanuel brushed invisible lint from his shirt. “What are you trying to say? I’ve worked for your father since you were in diapers. I have done everything he’s asked of me and more.”
“What makes you different from the rest? Can Ignacio trust you? Can I trust you?”
His eyes hardened, then he waved his hand dismissively. “I’m different.”
“How?” I snapped.
“Because I don’t want anything else. I don’t have a wife or kids, and I don’t want them. I have more money than I’ll spend in this lifetime. Ignacio values my opinion, and I don’t have a target on my back like he does. I don’t envy him, and I sure as hell don’t want to be him or take his job.”
“So if Ignacio died tomorrow, you wouldn’t break out the champagne and designate yourself as the newest drug lord?”
He licked his lips. “No. I’d welcome Rever or you with open arms. Hopefully you, because we both know Rever wouldn’t last a month. Everyone knows his weaknesses. Women. Gambling. Drugs.” He waved his hand. “You, on the other hand, are a wildcard. Nobody would know what to expect, but anything is better than Rever. He’s a disaster.”
I studied him, searching for any signs of duplicity, but his face didn’t reveal anything. My shoulders slumped. Either he was being honest or he had a first-rate poker face. “Fair enough.”
Staring out the window, I turned my back to him. Shadows from the trees danced on the creamy marble floors. Terraced gardens filled with colorful flowers dotted the wall of green foliage. Was Hattie looking outside through a barred window in that white stucco prison waiting for me to come and find her? Had she given up on me or was she in too much pain to care? Did she hate me? Did she regret letting me back in her life?