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I rein in my anger. If Richard wasn’t already on his way to meet our maker, I’d send him myself for his involvement.
Raising his head with a finger under his chin, it flops back against the door, and I see I don’t have long to get what I need from him as blood pumps from the small puncture wounds on his body. They are designed to cause maximum pain and suffering. Whoever did this knew what they were doing.
“Richard, where did they take them?”
“Who?” he croaks.
“Jessica and my son. They took them. Who has them, Richard?” He shakes his head like he doesn’t understand. My patience is waning, but I hold onto it. If I don’t get answers now, getting Jess and Max back will take a lot fucking longer, and time is definitely not on my side. I grip his chin, focusing his eyes on me, which are half closed and rolling into the back of his head. “Fucking tell me who has my son and Jess.”
“I don’t know, Rick. Garcia was pissed that someone beat him to it. He planned to take your son as payment for his brother. I’m just the messenger.”
“Garcia? Brother?” Something doesn’t add up here. “Who the fuck is Garcia, Richard?” I demand, giving his face a little tap to keep him awake.
“Luca Garcia…” He coughs, and I watch as the motion forces blood from a stab wound in his abdomen. “Second in command of the Salcido cartel…” I shove his shirt aside, seeking the other wounds on his body. Finding a deeper puncture wound just below his ribcage, I cover it, applying pressure.
He sucks in a harsh breath, eyes pinched tight. “They were the men…behind the guns in Afghan.”
“I don’t understand. If Garcia hasn’t got Jess and my son, then who the fuck does?”
“Someone Garcia was working with. I don’t know—” Richard’s voice trails off as his eyes close again. His breathing slows, becoming shallow. After a couple of minutes, he takes his last breath, his chest falling for the last time.
I pull my phone from my pocket as I rise and send Ryder a message and one to Dean about Luca Garcia, then I open the front door, stepping inside passed Richard’s slumped body.
In the bedroom, I throw on a clean t-shirt and begin packing our stuff up. Do I have time for this with my son and Jess missing? No, I fucking don’t. But I need the control, and my mind needs time to sort through my jumbled thoughts.
The Garcia that Marcus and Travis mentioned and this one has to be one and the same. Salcido cartel are also the cartel Natalia claimed Marcus was in bed with. Although, we know Marcus had his own agenda too.
As I load the last few bits into a bag, I remember something Jamie mentioned about the Salcido cartel and their gun trafficking ring in Afghanistan before 2015 at which point it collapsed… Fuck! That’s the connection. The Salcido cartel’s gun running collapsed, so they found a more profitable income.
I scramble from the house, chucking everything in the car. I run to Richard’s car and do a quick sweep. I find his phone, and something even better in his boot. I already called in a favour to get Richard’s body back to his family and a clean-up crew too. Although, at this point, I’m not sure he deserves it.
Spinning out of the drive, I hit dial on Roxy’s number.
“Sullivan, I’m a little busy right now, so you better make it quick,” she barks down the line. Her words are followed by the sound of groaning, and not the pleasurable kind either.
I feel kind of bad for whoever she’s clearly interrogating because when she hears why I’m calling they’re going to be in a whole world of pain.
“They have my son and JJ.” I don’t beat around.
“I know,” she replies casually as a scream rattles down the phone. “Hence the slightly unorthodox interrogation methods. Of course, I do enjoy inflicting a little pain now and again.”
I’m not sure I’ve ever been so glad to be hundreds of miles away from a woman. The fact she’s a detective is ever so slightly concerning, but I won’t complain while her rage is focused elsewhere.
“I have pictures of the van that took her, and Ryder will send you details of the car that took my son. But I need information, everything you can give me, on the Salcido cartel and any connections in the UK. I’m particularly interested in Luca Garcia—”
“Luca Garcia is dead, Rick. Died back in 2015 in an operation I believe you are only too familiar with.”
Her words strike me just like the cat o nine tails used on me and Kuffs, and as the images flash through my mind so do words and conversations I’ve not remembered before or blocked out.
I stop the car, jumping out as my stomach heaves with remembrance. With my hands on my knees, I can hear Roxy yelling down the phone at me.
“Give me a fucking minute,” I yell back.
Getting myself under control, I climb back into the car. “How the fuck do you know that, Roxy? That’s classified information.”
“Yeah, well, me and classified have an understanding.” I hear a door slam in the background. “From what I know, you killed Luca when you escaped, and I’m guessing you didn’t know who he was?”
“No, I didn’t fucking know, and I don’t give two shits either. For what that bastard did to Kuffs, he deserved it all.”
