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Memories were fickle, including mine.
But almost every detail had returned like icy water being tossed into my face. Including everything that had occurred on the boat in the middle of the lake. The goddamn drugs had been found. Fucking fantastic.
While the authorities shouldn’t be able to trace them to me or any of my men, the fact the cocaine was in their possession meant the cops would be on watch for anything unusual. An ache formed in my heart from the thought of never seeing Georgia again, but there was also a nagging feeling about the carving on her body.
The New fucking Generation Cartel.
I was as certain of that as I was everything else. Granted, the tattoo was carved into every soldier. That much my brother had discovered. She could have been the fiancée of one of hundreds of men. Still, the coincidence of being here in the house of a woman who ‘belonged’ to a member of the cartel wasn’t possible. Not in this life.
It was apparent I’d floated in the water for hours. Perhaps washing up on Georgia’s shore had been the saving grace. Or had my body been dumped there, starting the charade? Was this some sick game orchestrated by Rico? I hated thinking that way. What we’d shared had seemed so real. Almost too perfect.
Watching her walk out her front door, slamming it behind her had driven an ache into my heart.
There were several reasons I hadn’t let on that almost everything about my life had returned but at this moment, none of them seemed valid. Maybe I hadn’t wanted to feel the need to share with her who I was. She’d been terrified enough in providing me with assistance. Why would I cause her additional worries? It would seem she had enough anxiety to last for the rest of her life.
If she’d played me, the best thing I could do was get the fuck out of there. Why was I having such a difficult time believing she could be deceiving me? Women were even better than men at being able to lie. But using a child? I shook my head, my mind still foggy.
The time I’d spent with her, albeit only a day had been some of the best hours I’d spent in a long time. I’d cherish the memories almost as much as I did of those prior to the shooting. Maybe more. However, in making the call to Andres, who remained in the area, I’d learned that given Raphael Garcia had been killed during the attack, his brother Rico was already on the warpath given the lack of communication. It was only a matter of time before the brutal man realized his brother wasn’t coming home.
While there was still a question about whether I’d survived the shooting, Rico had several other men on the way to scour the small city to ensure I’d met a watery grave. The last thing I wanted to do was to put Georgia and little Dillon in harm’s way.
At least that’s what my instinct was telling me, that she was indeed innocent. Maybe karma had tossed us together.
The knock had been expected but I shifted to the window, peering out before opening the door. It was the first time since I’d turned seventeen that I didn’t have a weapon with me. My birthday present that year had been a Glock 19 along with shooting lessons, which my father had insisted I take seriously. I had, becoming an expert by my eighteenth birthday. Of course, one day later, I’d used my weapon against one of our enemies, thwarting one of many efforts to assassinate my father.
I opened it with some level of caution, grateful to see both Andres and Connor standing on the small front porch. “Good. You’re here. We need to get as far away from here as possible.” I backed away, heading toward the kitchen to grab the burner phone. That was one item I’d need on the return trip.
“Whoa. You didn’t say you were holed up with someone,” Andres said, half laughing. Max dutifully ran toward them, issuing the kind of growl he hadn’t used on me. “And what in the hell are you wearing? Jesus, boss. It’s a good thing I brought your suit bag with us.”
The funny thing was that as much as I’d hated the clothes at first, I found them a hell of a lot more comfortable than the thousands of dollars’ worth of designer shit I’d worn since I could remember. I ignored the comment, taking a few seconds to scan the open-air space. It was almost as if I’d grown attached even after such a short period of time. The truth was I had.
“Jesus. A fucking dog. Does he bite?” Connor asked, the terrified look on his face a cause for amusement.
“Max. Come here, boy.” As the pup trotted in my direction, I crouched down. “Good boy. I’m going to miss you. You’re so sweet. Be good for and to your Mommy dog. Okay?”
Woof.
“Wow. You get hit on the head and you’re a different man,” Andres muttered.
I rubbed behind Max’s ears, surprised at myself for how much it pained me to leave. “You’d be surprised what experiencing life from someone else’s perspective can do for your nasty demeanor.”
“Ouch,” Connor said. “Cute dog.”
“Do you have any money on you?” I asked Andres as I stood.
“Yeah, a few C-notes. Why?”
“Give me two of them.” When he didn’t respond right away, I gave him a hard look.
“O-kay. What for?” Andres yanked out his wallet as he headed in my direction.
“Because Georgia bought me some clothes as well as a phone and I am paying her back for her kindness and generosity.” I snagged the two bills from my lieutenant, adding it to the other money she’d intended on me taking. I wasn’t about to take anything from her, including possibly her life.
It was good she hated me. That might help keep her alive. Men like Rico Garcia used any weakness to make a point to get what he wanted. She didn’t deserve a taste of my life. While I was leaving, my intentions were to try to find the fucking bastard who’d nearly destroyed her. If he was still alive, he’d learn a valuable lesson in how women should be treated. After that, I’d find a way to let her know she was safe.
I owed her that and so much more.
The nagging in the back of my mind reminded me that I’d also need to try to ascertain if what little she’d told me about herself was true. The picture I’d taken of the photograph might help bring me some answers. I only hoped they weren’t ones I couldn’t ignore.
