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Esteban storms forward with rage coating his chiseled face.
“Señor Moreno, is everything alright? We heard—”
Before the doctor can finish his sentence, Esteban shoves him out of the way, knocking him and a medical cart over.
My first reaction is to help the doctor. I crawl toward him, but Esteban yanks me by my biceps to my feet. Terrified, a whimper escapes past my lips. This seems to anger him more as he drags me out of the room.
Normally, I would be mortified being pulled down a hallway armed with several guards while my whole backside is exposed from the surgical gown, but at this moment, I’m too scared to care about my modesty.
When he yanks me too hard, I cry out in pain, nearly losing my footing and falling face first. Esteban growls with irritation, tugging me upright again. Too scared to make another sound, I bite the inside of my cheek to the point I taste a heavy copper tang in my mouth.
What on earth has gotten into him?
As far as I know, I haven’t done anything to warrant this kind of anger. But what do I know—the man doesn’t need an excuse to treat people horribly.
Barging into his office, he deposits me unceremoniously in one of the armchairs facing his desk before rounding the desk to sit opposite me. “Appears my boy has finally figured out I’m no longer in Colombia.”
Confused, I rub my sore arms asking, “We’re not in Colombia?”
Esteban smiles tightly. “No. Colombia became too hot for my safety after Gabriella was taken from me.”
You mean recovered, you delusional piece of shit.
“We’re in Argentina. This country has been good for business. The ground is fertile and there’s much more of it than what I had in Colombia.”
No wonder Maceo and his crew could never find him. They were searching in the wrong country the whole time.
“He’s been making his way from Salta to Mendoza, setting fire to my crops.”
My heart flip-flops hearing news about my husband. I’m not surprised Maceo’s retaliating this way. He would burn down the world to find me, literally making it hell on earth for Esteban.
My captor runs a hand through his thick, dark hair, an angry scowl shrouds his face. “At the rate he’s going, he’ll destroy all my crops. What I don’t understand is how he knows which ones to target.”
He turns his dark eyes on me.
Don’t panic. Stay calm.
“As happy as I am to have my son finding his way home, I’m less than thrilled he’s destroying the empire I plan to pass down to him. It’s been over thirty years since someone has been this close to finding my estate. How does he know which farms are mine?”
The maps!
I blink, feigning innocence. Maceo’s crew focused on the farms in Colombia; they never investigated those marked in other countries. They were certain Esteban would never leave his country.
“Your silence will not save you,” Esteban warns. “How does my son know which farms to attack?”
“I—I have no idea. He has a smart IT team. Perhaps they hacked into something?”
Esteban sits back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the desk. “There’s no cyber footprint of me anywhere, little flower. I am a ghost in the modern world of technology.”
I scratch my head to give the illusion that I’m pondering the possibilities. “A snitch?”
Esteban looks at me gravely. “There are no snitches in my organization. My people know what I do to those who cross me.”
No doubt about it.
“You’re honestly telling me you have no idea?” Esteban accuses.
Think, Jo. Think real fucking quick.
