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What was left was a desire for vengeance so rich I still feel it in every vein in my body.
Nathan and Connor never left my side during those days. Not long after that, we shared our common stories of pain inflicted on those we loved by the mafia and how the Dark Kings were birthed.
I made a promise to Chloe back in the desert that night. I’d never let any other woman be harmed as she had if I had the power.
I don’t know if I’ve kept that promise to the letter, but I’ve fucking tried.
The Garcia Cartel deals in drugs, weapons, and sex trafficking regularly. At times, I’ve been able to feed information back to Connor's contacts, helping us save thousands of women and children over the years.
Whenever I think it’s time to get out of this undercover gig, I see another Chloe looking at me with doped-up blue eyes and I can’t leave.
The guilt weighs so heavily on me. You see, Chloe begged me not to go into the Marines. She’d always been terrified I’d be killed.
Ironically.
I lost count of how many hours I spent telling her about our training and how she had to have more faith in me. Hell, I used to pick her up and carry her around for strength training.
For fun.
I loved to hear her giggle.
Now, I live with significant regret and the knowledge that being a Marine was my calling. It’s a mindfuck.
But some days, I wish I’d never signed up.
Never left Texas.
Never left Chloe.
Who knows, maybe she would have fallen in love with one of my friends and I would have attended her wedding. Maybe I’d be watching her loud, annoying kids run around my yard and unwrapping some gifts I’d bought for them.
Maybe I’d be a cop or firefighter or something that would’ve kept me in Texas, so she’d never gone to Florida with her girlfriends that week.
So many fuckingmaybes.
I’ve visited her grave four times since returning from the Middle East. I figure she’d rather I help other girls like her than sit on a piece of dirt talking to her corpse.
Now I’m responsible for a beautiful young woman who doesn’t look all that different from my best friend landing in the hands of the cruel and dangerous cartel once fucking more.
Fuck!
If this shipment of women wasn’t arriving in Mexico, I could get Isabelle and me out of this much faster. But I can’t desert them.
I won’t.
So how the hell do I do both?
Isabelle is watching me like I’m both her captor and a lifeline. I need to get her as far away from these dangerous men as fast as possible.
“Sure, we’ll get you home,” I say dryly, as Jose smirks across from me, his eyes still closed.
Mother fucker.
––––––––
IT’S THE NEXT day whenwe land, and a few more hours after that when the gates of Pablo’s Culiacán sweeping mansion swing open.
We drive past the hundreds of palm trees towards the vibrant golden home, and I glance down at ourguest. Isabelle is a shaking mess. She’s got tracks down her face from crying, and despite my insistence, she’s barely eaten or drunk anything. I had to drag her to the bathroom at one point and make her piss.
