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I stride outside and yank the back door of the car open. “Who has her?” I get in the car, and Samuel slides in behind me, slamming the door.
He presses a few buttons on his phone, and a dial tone fills the car.
“Yeah.” It’s Carlos, and he sounds…fragile.
“Tell me everything,” I say.
There’s a pause. “I…Lucas got shot.”
I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath. Carlos is family, which makes Lucas family. I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to draw blood. “Is he…?” Samuel can’t speak the words.
“I’m not sure he’s going to make it. They took him to the hospital,” Carlos whispers. “They shot Michael and Enrique as well. They’re dead. Anna’s gone.”
My fists tighten until my knuckles ache under the strain. “Who?”
Carlos is silent for a second. “She called me. Before they took her. She called from Lucas’s phone to tell me he’d been shot.” Of course she did. How many fucking times did I tell her to run? “I heard muffled voices over the phone, but I couldn’t make anything out. Maybe an accent?” That doesn’t mean shit.
“It’s Dominges,” I growl.
“I don’t know, Rafe. They got in and out without anyone else seeing them. I can’t work out how they even got near the place without being seen. The bullet I just pulled out of Enrique is a 25. cal bullet. Rare. Specialized. These aren’t some street gang bangers.”
“He’s hired men before. It’s him.” I know it is. I can still picture his face—the way he looked at Anna like she was the goddamn golden fleece.
“What do you want to do?” Samuel asks me.
I tap my index finger over my bottom lip, willing my emotions to take a back seat. “Carlos. Gather some men. Go to Dominges townhouse. Kill everyone. Bring the woman.”
“Yes, boss.” The phone cuts off, and the unfamiliar feeling of helplessness consumes me.
I don’t look at Sam as I speak. “Call in everyone. Send word to our guys on the border. They’ll probably try and get her out of Mexico.” Out of my reach.
He starts tapping over the screen of his phone, rallying the troops.
“Rafe, you have to call Nero.”
I glare at him. My mind is a complete mess, and I can barely grasp hold of a coherent thought. All I can see is Anna, and the worst thing is that when I think of her with some strange men, I don’t see her crying or begging. I see that glazed, non-existent look in her eyes as she slowly loses herself. I’m terrified that everything she’s become will be lost to me forever if I can’t get her back fast enough. “You have to,” Samuel repeats.
“I know!” Fuck, I don’t want to call Nero, but Una needs to know. Dominges knows who Anna is. He wants her because he knows it’ll get him Una. I can handle Dominges. I can get her back, but Una is my best back up.
Taking my phone from my pocket, I dial his number and wait impatiently as it rings. I don’t want to be the person who has to tell Una Ivanov that I lost her sister, but I’m running out of options, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get Anna back as quickly as possible. It goes to voicemail.
“Fuck!” I call again, listening to the dial tone drone on and on.
The line clicks. “Uh, the bosses phone,” a guy answers the phone.
“I need to speak to Nero. Now.”
“He’s busy right now.”
“Well fucking disturb him. Tell him its Rafael."
There’s a rustling over the line before he shouts. “Boss.”
“I’m fucking busy, Tommy. I’ll call back,” Nero growls.
“But, boss…”
“God-fucking-damn, Tommy!” Apparently, his temper is short today.
“It’s Rafael,” the Irish guy mumbles.
“Gio, shoot him if he moves,” Nero’s voice is closer now. “This is not a fucking good time,” he snaps into the phone.
“Anna’s gone.”
“What? How?”
“I had four men on her. Three were found shot half an hour ago. I’ve called in scouts from the edges of my territory and put a call out at the border. I’ll get her back, but I'm keeping you in the loop.”
“Shit. Fucking get her back, Rafael or you and I are going to have a mutual problem in the form of Una.” I hang up and toss the phone down on the back seat.
“Take us to Los Zepata,” I say to the driver. He turns the car down a narrow alleyway, driving us toward the very Sinaloa compound that Anna was kept in. I know Dominges will be there. He likes to roll around in the filth and squalor of his own corrupt world. I close my eyes and picture Anna’s face until it morphs into an image of him behind her, stalking her. The smile on her face slips, fear taking over her beautiful features. I slam my fist against the door and wish it were his jaw.
