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He huffs a laugh. “Yeah, no shit, man.” I glance at him, and he rubs a hand over his neck. “We’ll get her back.”
“What if I can’t?” Fuck, this is horrible. It feels like someone has reached inside my chest and wrapped their fingers around my heart. They could crush it at any minute, and I’m completely helpless to do a damn thing about it. I’ve never been so exposed or vulnerable. I’ve never felt so weak.
Sam’s brows pull together, and he shakes his head. “We will. You’re Rafael D’Cruz. Pull your shit together, put your game face on, and destroy this motherfucker.” He slaps my shoulder, and I nod. He’s right. Anna doesn’t need me to be the guy who’s in love with her right now. At this moment, I have to be the big bad cartel boss. I have to be every bit as awful as she once accused me of being. And for her, it’ll be no effort at all.
* * *
I leanagainst the front of the Hummer and wait. Sam stands beside me, a pair of binoculars pressed to his face.
“Any second now,” he says quietly. I count to fifteen in my head before the low rumble of an explosion ripples in the distance, vibrating the ground beneath my feet. I close my eyes, inhaling the faint scent of burning, picturing the chaos at my fingertips.
Sam is completely silent, watching everything unfold. Occasionally he mumbles something into the earpiece he’s wearing: guiding, ordering.
“Okay, we’re good,” he finally says. I round the Hummer and jump in the passenger seat. Samuel guides the car down the hillside between bedraggled buildings covered in graffiti. The road drops down for a mile or so and then winds up to the front of the compound. The chain link metal gates are wide open, the smoking bodies of two men sprawled a little way back from them. Samuel pulls the car into the compound, and we simply have to follow the trail of bodies and destruction to the main building.
Getting out of the car, I swipe my hand down the front of my jacket and remove my sunglasses. I take out a cigar and place it between my lips, lighting it. As I inhale the thick smoke, I try to calm myself, to center this simmering rage that threatens to bubble over at the slightest provocation. Because Dominges will provoke me, and it will force my hand.
One of Samuel’s guys stands outside the door to the building, dressed head to toe in black combat gear. My cartel is not a gang of street thugs. It’s an army. One I only ever unleash when absolutely necessary. Dominges just pushed a big red button, and now he’s seeing the consequences.
I make my way inside the building, which looks like a small office block. Another of my men holds the elevator, and we get in. I watch as the numbers tick up to the fourth floor. The doors glide open to reveal a mundane-looking lobby with a couple of potted plants and desks. Shitty artwork hangs on the walls, and I almost laugh. Why bother to make this look like some kind of legit office building when only a few feet away is the brothel where he forces his slaves to fuck men?
I open the door to what looks like the main office and find Dominges leaning against his desk, three of his men with their back to the wall, guns drawn and pointed at a handful of Samuel’s guys. I smirk and toss my cigar to the carpet, watching as it burns a hole through the ragged material. I crush the smoldering butt beneath my toe and glance at Dominges. He has a smug grin on his face as though he isn’t somehow backed into a corner.
“Rafael, you’re going to die for this.”
I laugh. “Really?” I glance at his men who are shifting uncomfortably. He may be full of false bravado, but they’re not.
“I’ve already contacted my brother. The second you stormed these gates, you were a dead man. The entire Sinaloa is going to hunt you like a dog.” He grins.
I take my gun from my holster and place the barrel against his head. The tension in the room ratchets as every single man has the urge to pull their trigger, and yet no one wants to be the one to fire the first shot. It’s that tentative fine line between life and death. The odds are really in no one’s favor here. Except mine.
“You only make it worse for yourself, Rafael.”
I ram the gun beneath his chin and force his head back. “Look around you, Dominges. I don’t give a fuck what your brother does, and neither should you, considering your brains will soon be all over that wall if you don’t give me what I want.”
He narrows his eyes. “And what is it you want?” I don’t have the patience for this.
I aim at his thigh and pull the trigger. A single shot goes off somewhere behind me, and I grab Dominges, hauling him up against me as a body shield. His men won’t shoot him. Several more shots follow, and when I look up, it’s to see all his men on the floor and one of mine.
Dominges clutches at his thigh, his face turning red. “I know you fucking have her!” I shout.
Blood pools between his fingers and a hacking laugh slips from his lips. “So you lost a helpless whore?”
My hand slams around his throat, and he just grins at me. “You take my woman, and I take yours.”
“That’s your plan? Threaten my wife?”
I grin, shoving him away until he staggers against the desk. “Who said anything about your wife?” I glance at Samuel, and he leaves the room. A few seconds later I hear the elevator ping at the end of the hallway followed by the rhythmic fall of footsteps over carpet. Carlos comes in, his expression steely, and yet I can see the pain in his features. He drags a woman into the room, her wrists bound and a bag over her head. Forcing the woman to her knees in front of Dominges, he removes the bag. She chokes on a sob, pleading incoherently. Mascara streaks down her face, and her dark hair is a tangled mess. She’s pretty, young, foolish. One look at Dominges’ face and I know I’ve hit the nail on the head. His expression replicates everything I’m feeling. He quickly wipes the anguish from his features, his face morphing into a stony mask. I step around her sobbing form and move closer to him.
I grab his jaw and force him to look at her. “Women. Are they not the eternal weakness of men such as us?” His breaths rasp through his chest, becoming more erratic. “Those who are supposed to be so impenetrable.” His teeth grind together, the muscles in his cheek twitching under the strain. “Look at her, Dominges. Watch her cry and plead and beg you to save her.” The anger is creeping up on me, rising with every breath that this fucker continues to take. Stepping back, I place my hand on her head, and she flinches, a whimper slipping past her lips. I don’t hurt women usually, and on any other day, I’d see this girl as nothing more than an innocent bystander in a much bigger game. She probably isn’t with Dominges through choice. Women like her don’t say no to men like him, the rich and powerful.
I gently stroke my hand over her messy hair and a sob breaks past her lips. I bend over, bringing my face close to hers and wrapping a hand around her jaw. “Watch as I snap her neck in front of you.” I stand and place my other hand on top of her head, forcing her head at an angle. She screams, pleading and crying in the face of imminent death.
His mask wavers, his eyes flicking from her, to me, and back again. He’s in love with her. I’d call him weak, but I know the feeling well.
“Stop!” His jaw ticks, annoyance flickering behind his eyes.
I smile slowly because, in our game of chicken, I just won. “Talk or I will kill her.”
