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Esteban smirks. “Ah, good to know I didn’t knock you totally senseless.”
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
“Do I look like the kind of man who jokes, Mr. Phillips?”
“You are a joke,” Heath grumbles under his breath.
Arthur swiftly raises his cane and brings it down forcefully against Heath’s ruined knee. My brother screams, fighting against his restraints ferociously.
“She’s heavily guarded,” I say hastily. “It’ll be next to impossible.”
“We know you’ve been welcomed into the family,” Esteban spits. “Thanks to your darling Willow, you’ve been able to enter Renata’s inner circle without a hitch. Once you’ve put a bullet between that old hag’s eyes, we’ll release your family.”
My head swims.
This isn’t good, and I have a feeling things will only derail further if I try to press my luck and look for a way out. I’m in no position to bargain. As long as they have my family in custody, I have no other choice but to do as they ask. One life in exchange for three. But if I go through with this…
Even as I try to organize the logistics of pulling off Renata’s murder, there are too many unknowns at play. The moment I pull the gun, her men will be on me in a matter of seconds. I can’t betray the matriarch of the Marrones Family without putting a massive target on my back. I probably won’t even make it out the door once the deed is done. But if I don’t go through with it, Anna, Heath, and Knox will die. Or, more likely, I will kill them, and my family will die anyway. I don’t see Esteban as a man of honor.
And God, what will Willow think? If I kill her grandmother, how will Willow react? In horror, no doubt. I’d lose her in an instant. I’m afraid she’ll leave me, turn against me. Worst case scenario, Esteban and Arturo might hurt the woman I love, and our babies along with her. It’s not enough to say I’m caught between a rock and a hard place. I literally don’t know what to do.
Either way, it’s suicide. I’m a dead man walking, and they know it. I can either choose to die now or die later, but nothing will change the fact that I am going to die.
“I’ll do it,” I rasp. “I’ll do it, just… just let my family go.”
“After you kill that bitch,” Esteban says. He places a hand over his heart, the other raised like he’s making a vow. “You have my word. Your family won’t be harmed and will be released once you kill Renata Marrones.”
I bite down on my tongue. I know as well as anybody here that his word isn’t worth a damn thing. Still, it’s better than nothing. I’ve bought us a little bit of time. Hopefully I’ll be able to think my way out of this between now and the moment I make my move.
Chapter 36
Willow
The morning starts out like any other. The sun shines, the birds sing, and the breeze whistles by. I’ve been making good progress through all the books Zane so lovingly picked out for me. I particularly loveThe Hobbitand all things fantasy, but I’ll admit I’m a bit of a sucker for the romances, too. I’ve been spending most of my days in the gardens daydreaming about our future together, hoping wherever we choose to settle down, I’ll get to have a room full of books—my own personal library.
I’ve noticed a change in my appetite lately, certain aversions to foods I once adored. I can’t handle the smell of any fish, and for some reason, the texture of bananas makes me gag. It makes me wonder if my kids are picky eaters, because even the thought of eating the fruit makes me nauseous. But apart from that, I’m enjoying my pregnancy. There’s something deeply satisfying about looking at my reflection in the mirror, admiring my belly—the bump now more noticeable.
I fully expect today to be another peaceful, uneventful day…
Until I hear the roar of an engine ripping through the neighborhood. I don’t think anything of it at first, but then one of Renata’s guards runs in—his face beet red and out of breath. He says something frantically in Spanish, pointing in the direction of the noise. When my abuela springs to her feet, I do too.
“What’s going on?” I ask.
“He’s back,” Renata says, hurrying inside the house.
My heart skips a beat.
I’m so excited I’m breathless when he walks in through the front door. I nearly trip when I see him, alarmed to see the state he’s in. His left eye is black and swollen, his nose broken, his lip split in two. He walks with a limp, a tilt to his upper torso like he doesn’t have the strength to stay upright. Alarm rushes through me as I run to him, my heart hammering so loud I can barely hear myself when I say, “What the hell happened?”
Zane wraps me in his arms and kisses me, so deep and desperate I can’t help but panic. Something is wrong.
“Zane,” I whimper. “Zane, talk to me. What’s going on?”
“Please forgive me,” he murmurs against my lips.
I shake my head. “I don’t understand—”
He draws his gun from his waistband and points it at my grandmother. I scream, instinctively forcing his hand upward. He pulls the trigger—more a reaction to the sudden jolt than a deliberate pull—the bullet shooting up into the ceiling.
