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“Just drive,” Kent snaps, getting into the car, and I follow suit.
Looks like we’re dispensing with the niceties. Oh, well.
Instead of bringing me to the mansion where Esguerra and his wife reside, Diego takes us to a shed on the outer edge of the compound. I recognize the place—it’s where I once helped Esguerra interrogate his enemies—and despite myself, a chill roughens my skin.
There’s nothing to prevent the Colombian arms dealer from stringing me up and trying to torture the name of the traitor out of me.
Nothing but the fact that Esguerra knows me—and hopefully realizes I won’t be easy to crack.
He steps out of the shed as Kent and I get out of the car, and as the headlights of the car illuminate his face, I see that he still has his movie-star looks, even with the artificial eye that replaced the one gouged out by his enemies. I haven’t seen him since that time—I knew he’d be pissed over the method of his rescue, so I left before he could have me killed—but he’s the same as I remember.
Still dangerous as fuck and lacking all empathy… except when it comes to his wife.
And now possibly his infant daughter.
“You’ve got balls,” he says softly, stopping in front of me. His English is of the American variety, without a trace of a Spanish accent. His mother was American, I recall—a model of some kind.
“I wanted to talk to you in a secure location,” I say, meeting his piercing blue gaze without flinching. I’m not afraid, though I probably should be. Julian Esguerra is one of the cruelest men I know, a true sadist. I’ve seen him skin men alive and take great pleasure in it, and I’ve often wondered how his young wife handles that aspect of her husband’s nature.
He loves her, but I doubt he spares her.
“Why?” he asks in that same lethally soft tone. “Why would you want to come here, of all places?”
“Because I want to make a deal with you,” I say calmly as Kent walks over to stand next to Esguerra. “And I’m certain Novak doesn’t have eyes and ears here.” As I say this, I’m cognizant of Diego sitting in the car with the motor still running—likely to produce enough noise to drown out our conversation.
It looks like Kent is the only person my former employer fully trusts.
“You think Novak doesn’t know you approached Lucas?” Esguerra says, his mouth twisting derisively. “That he wasn’t notified the moment my plane took off with you on it?”
“Oh, he was.” I smile coldly. “In fact, he knew about my plan all along.”
Neither Kent nor Esguerra blink, but I can sense their surprise. “He knew you were going to double-cross him?” Kent asks, frowning.
“Yes. I told him that as soon as he disclosed the name of the asset.”
Esguerra’s jaw flexes. “You told him you were going to betray him?”
“Not exactly. I told him I was going to pretend to betray him in order to gain access to your compound. He knows about the deal I told Kent I want to make: peace with you and a hundred million for the name of Novak’s asset.”
Kent’s frown deepens, but Esguerra tilts his head, regarding me thoughtfully. “The deal you told Kent you want to make,” he says slowly. “Which, I presume, is not the actual deal you’re after.”
“Correct.” I become aware of painful tension in my neck and shoulders and consciously relax those muscles. “Or at least, it’s not the full deal.”
Esguerra folds his arms over his chest. “What is the full deal, then?”
“I will give you Novak’s asset inside your compound… and I’ll deliver to you Novak himself, so you’ll never have to worry about him again.”
Esguerra’s eyes narrow. “In exchange for what?”
“The peace and the hundred million I already mentioned—and just one other thing.”
“What thing?” Kent asks, not bothering to hide his curiosity.
“Amnesty,” I say, looking from the Colombian arms dealer to his partner and back. “I want global amnesty for all crimes of which I’m being accused, as well as immunity from further prosecution. I want to be taken off all the wanted lists—and I want you to make it happen.”
32
Sara
I dream of him again that night. He comes to me like a phantom, shrouding me in his darkness, holding me tight as I weep and struggle to free myself. I don’t know if I’m fighting him or my own craving, but either way, before long, I lose.
I meld into him, let his darkness surround me, chasing away all loneliness and light.
He takes me then, driving into me with punishing fury, and I embrace him, screaming his name as my body convulses with torrid pleasure, with bliss so agonizing and exquisite it threatens to tear me apart. We make love over and over again, until I’m drained and sore.
