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Someone in my organization was working for El Cuchillo. And when I found out who it was—or more accurately, when I had evidence—I would tear him apart with my bare hands.
If one of my men colluded with Los Guerreros to kidnap and torture Miri… Fuck. My chest heaved and my skin was hot and slick under my suit. I heard a low growl and was surprised to realize it was coming from me.
Once I had my revenge, I would leave this shitshow behind and never look back. I needed to keep Miri safe, but I couldn’t allow the men who hurt her to live. Soon I could take her away and give her the life she deserved. In the meantime, all I could do was make sure she was healthy and happy.
No one would ever touch her again. I would die before that happened.
8
Miri
“I need to figure out what I’m going to do with my life, Miri.” Cat drew dozens of random circles in the dirt with her toes. She let out a heavy sigh and shaded her eyes with her hand so she could take in the stunning view of Lake Travis. The sun was bright and high up in the sky. The rays glittered on the tips of the small waves that rippled the clear water.
On the same tiny strip of beach I visited months ago with Jag, I lay on my stomach, my chin propped on my elbows so I could watch my friend. Cat was incredibly sad to the point of depression, and I completely understood. My poor friend had been kept in that horrible mansion for almost a year, used and abused by El Cuchillo’s men every single day, sometimes multiple times a day. Thankfully, Jag already had Cat weaned down to half her usual daily dose of H. In the short time since our escape, Cat’s skin had regained its color and she put some much needed weight on her skeletal frame.
Speaking of weight, I had put on quite a bit myself, not that I cared. Even with the weight gain, I was still a little too thin. But I had to admit, Jag was enjoying the return of my curves. From the amount of attention he lavished on them, it was clear Jag loved my fuller hips and breasts. Plus, he told me quite often how sexy I looked.
“I have to figure out my life too, Cat. I mean, yeah, I can work on motorcycles, but I pretty much burned my bridges at the only bike shop around, and after I was kidnapped, it’ll probably be a long time before Jag is okay letting me work outside the house. Or more specifically, where he can’t watch me twenty-four seven.”
“You’re lucky to have the bikes, Miri. I don’t have any useful skills.” Cat waited until a pair of thundering jet skis roared by before continuing. “I was a waitress, Miri. At a crappy diner, not even a nice restaurant. I can’t support myself on the pathetic tips I used to get.”
“Maybe you should go to school,” I suggested.
Cat twisted her neck to stare at me and grimaced. “I didn’t finish high school.”
“So? Neither did I. Get your GED, find something you love, and do it.”
My best friend snorted. “Easy for you to say, you have a rich guy supporting you.”
The smile slipped off my face. Her words stung. So much so that it felt as if Cat slapped me. “I don’t want to be a kept woman. I am not a gold digger, Cat. I’ll be getting a job as soon as Jag says it’s safe.”
My tone must have let Cat know how much her comment hurt, because she looked mortified. “I’m sorry, Miri. I didn’t mean to imply you were lazy or anything. It’s just so hard, you know? Having no one.” Cat turned back to the lake to continue staring at the ground. In one sweep she used the sole of her foot to erase the circles she had drawn and started from scratch.
I reached out and put a hand on her arm. “You have me, Cat. You’ll always have me.”
Cat’s eyes shimmered with tears and she gave me a grateful smile. “Thank you.”
Grateful, I returned the smile. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the two Men in Black Jag sent with us for protection. I had to beg my stubborn man to get to let us come to the beach, and Jag only relented when I agreed to bring a few of his men. I understood his concern. After being snatched right out of his arms, literally, Jag didn’t want me leaving the house. But after being trapped in a similarly luxurious mansion, Cat needed to get out. The men were standing straight and attentive nearby, both wearing
sunglasses so dark I had no clue where they were looking.
With a shrug, I lowered back down on the blanket to close my eyes. The sun felt so good on my skin, even though I had on SPF 1000+ or something like that. Red hair and tanning do not go together. The sound of jet skis skimming across the lake grew louder once more, starting as a dull hum and rising quickly to a rumbling roar. When the noise didn’t recede, but increased to the point where I wondered if they were going to drive right up the tiny beach and run us over, I sat up to look.
“Get down!”
I heard the masculine shout right before a heavy body landed on top of me, knocking the breath from my lungs. Cat shrieked and the deafening pop of gunshots rang out, echoing across the water. I was jerked to my feet and it felt as if my arm was torn from my body. Fire ripped through my shoulder, the pain so intense it stole my voice. One of the bodyguards shoved me behind him, holding on to me with one hand as he fired a pistol with his other.
Cat screamed again. My heart raced and my bare feet caused me to stumble over the rocky ground. More shots came, the two men returning fire while maneuvering Cat and me into the car. I looked up and saw the jet skis from before, bobbing still in the water. One was empty, a body floating next to it. The other had its driver, the man aiming a gun right at us.
There was a pop and my bodyguard grunted then roared, firing off several shots in a row. I watched in horror as the jet skier’s chest exploded and he lurched to the side, plunging into the lake. May car door slammed and Cat was shoved next to me from the other side. The engine roared as the driver stomped on the gas. He gunned it so hard the wheels spun as the SUV fishtailed on the dirt road, bouncing so violently my teeth clacked together.
The SUV flew onto the main road, the tires screeching as the driver executed a ninety-degree turn at such high speed, we should have flipped over and ended up in a ditch. Whoever was behind the wheel was really good because he downshifted and easily straightened the SUV, stomping the gas to race back to the house. My bodyguard, Thomas, was in the passenger seat, shouting into his phone while holding a towel to his shoulder. I blanched when I saw the bright red blood soaking the fabric, then I gagged.
“Y-you’re s-shot,” I stammered through chattering teeth. The adrenaline rush had hit full force and my body was struggling to deal with the flood of hormones into my bloodstream.
“I’m fine,” he said, just as calm as could be. Like he wasn’t bleeding all over the place after armed men shot at us from jet skis.
“Miri?”
