Fistful of Benjamins (21 page)

W
e sit on Maria for two days. The stakeout is pure hell between Amalia and me. It gets so bad that we start snapping at each other. I can't figure her out and I can't get her to tell me who she's constantly calling.

“Look. If you need to get back to your life in Playa del Carmen, I understand. I'm out of money and you got to know that it's going to take me a while to pay this tab I'm running up.”

“No. It's all right. I want to see this through. If you think you can rescue this fiancée then I want to help.”

“Really?” I ask, dubiously.

“Really,” she says, avoiding my eyes.

Maria emerges from the house looking like a completely different woman. All cleaned up, she looks like a nurse or a caregiver.

I'm convinced that we're finally going get some answers. “Don't lose her.”

“I'm on it.” Amalia starts the car.

As we make it to the town's main road, a black Mercedes pulls up next to us. I glance their way in time to see the barrel of a gun. “Amalia, drive!” I go for my piece, but it's too late.

A barrage of bullets flies our way.

My window explodes as Amalia jams her foot onto the accelerator.

I'm waving and blinking away shards of glass as another blast goes off.

Despite all hell breaking loose, Amalia guns the car through the streets of Cartagena like a pro. “Shit. Hold on,” she orders, making a sharp right on two wheels.

I finally get hold of my weapon and fire back—only the bullets bounce off our attacker's vehicle.

“See? This is what you get when you start asking around about drug cartels,” Amalia shouts, making another sharp turn. Then I hear her cry, “FUCK!” She slams on the brakes. Tires screech. Rubber burns.

I fly into the dashboard and hear a rib crack.

The car flips. Once. Twice. Three times.

Without our seatbelts buckled, we're tossed around like rags until the car slams violently into its roof.

In shock, I can't feel my body. Blood drips into my eyes.
Where's Amalia?
I turn my head, but I can't find her.
Was she thrown from the car?
I try to call out, but can't. I hear feet running toward me, but then tires screech and another eruption of gunfire explodes around the car.

While the war rages on outside, pain seeps into my nervous system.

A head pokes in through the broken window.

“Is he alive?” someone asks.

The man reaches in and touches me.

I groan.

“He's alive!”

“Grab him and let's get the fuck out of there before more of those muthafuckas show up.”

When the man grabs me by the shoulders and drags me out over broken glass I nearly black out.

“Hurry!
Hurry!
”

Once I'm out of the car, the big muscle-head tosses me over a meaty shoulder.

“Let's go.
Let's go!
”

My head ringing, I try to hang on for as long as I can, but the pull of oblivion is too strong. I close my eyes and immediately see Cataleyna's face. Shame and guilt overwhelm me. I'm never going to find her.

I've failed.

 

“W
hat the fuck do you mean lost him?” I thunder. “How in the hell did you lose him?”

My men stutter and stammer. “W—we tried to detain him after the accident, but some goons showed up and took out two of our men. By the time backup arrived, they—disappeared.”

“Of course. We're on their fucking turf. They were bound to find them, especially with them roaming around asking questions like that. Maybe that damn P.I. wasn't lying about his amnesia.”

“Well—she's dead,” one of the men, says. “She was thrown from the car.”

“And my money?” I ask.

“We're looking for it,” he says. “I'm sure that she stashed it somewhere close.”

Pulling in an angry breath, I try to think of my next move. Vega said that her client believed that Cataleyna was brought here. I don't know how much of this amnesia story was true or if they were leading me on yet another wild goose chase. Now with both of them gone, I'm back to square one. Do I pack up and head back home or see if I can get anywhere near the Vazquez compound?

Suddenly, a stabbing pain seizes my right side. I struggle to breathe. “No, God, please, not yet.”

The pain intensifies and I slump out of my wheelchair and hit the floor.

“Boss, are you all right?” My men scramble around me.

“No. No. No,” I beg. “Not until I see my daughter again.” My vision blurs, and my breathing thins.

“Hold on. We're going to get you some help!”

I roll onto my back as my life story speeds before my eyes. It's all there: The pain, the mistakes and then, lastly, the two greatest joys of my life. Isabella and Cataleyna. “Please God, don't take me yet. Please. Not until I see my daughter again.
Please
.”

Ears ringing, head spinning, I glance around. I'm in a huge room with grand furniture that looks familiar. I sit up, but everything gets worse, especially the pain. I push through it until I'm on my feet. My chest is bound and my clothes have been changed.

I creep around the room, looking for anything that I can use as a weapon. There's nothing. I head toward the door, halfway expecting it to be locked.

It's not.

“Hello?”

Nothing
.

I step out of the room and peer down the hallway. “Hello?”

Silence.

I ease out further as the ringing and spinning intensifies. Images, one after another, flicker inside of my head. A full life flashes. A woman. A man.
My parents?

Laughter. Sunshine. Children. Love. Heartache. Obsession. Pain.

I'm overwhelmed and nausated.

Moon. Rain. Gunfire. Scream.

Dropping to my knees, I struggle to catch my breath.

Someone comes up behind me. “Good to see you're finally awake.”

I turn and my gazes crash into a dark figure. A name tumbles to my lips
.
“Carlos,” I growl. “Where is she?”

The man stares at me. “Are you all right?”

“I know that you have her. Tell me where she is!”

“Is this some kind of joke? If it is, it's not funny.” He smiles. “I don't know how you pulled it off,” he says. “I thought you were dead.”

“Sorry to disappoint you. Now where is she, Carlos?” The ringing in my head grows louder. The images fly at warp speed. “Where's Cataleyna?”

“Carlos? What are you talking about? I'm not Carlos.”

“Don't play me for a fool. I know you have Cataleyna.”

“Of course I do.”

“Then where is she?” I surge to my feet and yank him to me. “I'll fucking kill you if you've harmed one hair on her head. Where is she, Carlos?”

He jerks out of my grip. “What the fuck is wrong with you? And what's this Carlos shit? I'm not Carlos—
you
are!”

T
he ringing in my ears is deafening. “What?”

“I'm Tomas. Why in the hell do you think that I'm you?” He cocks his head and frowns.

I shake my head and take a retreating step. “You're trying to confuse me. I know who you are. Don't change the subject. Where is she?”

“Cataleyna?”

“Of course Cataleyna! She's here, isn't she?”

Tomas weighs his answer. “Yes. I brought and kept her like we originally planned. Don't you remember?”

Moon. Rain. Gunfire. Scream.

“I—I . . .”

Moon. Rain. Gunfire. Scream.

“I have to see her. Take me to her,” I demand.

Tomas shakes his head.

“I said take me to her!”

“Not until you tell me what the hell is going on with you. Why don't you remember who I am—who you are?”

“I told you I
know
. . .” The room spins faster. “. . . who you . . . are.” More images assault me. Me as a kid, holidays, a father bouncing me on his knee. Me playing with another kid—a kid that looks like the man before me.

But that doesn't make sense. “I'm . . . Julian.”

“Julian Arias?” Tomas throws his head back and laughs. “Who in the hell told you that?”

“I—I . . .” I struggle to think straight with the ringing and the memories. “I remember . . .”

Tomas turns and walks into the next room.

“Hey! Where are you going?”

Tomas ignores the question and picks up a silver picture frame and holds it up. “Look familiar?”

I glance down and recognized myself smiling in a cap and gown with this man by my side. “I . . . don't . . . understand.”

“We're brothers. You're Carlos Demetrius Vazquez and I'm your younger brother Tomas.”

I can't pull my eyes from the photograph.

“You want to meet Julian Arias? All right. I'll introduce you to him.” Tomas marches out of the room, certain that I'll follow his lead.

I do—all the way down to the house cellar. I remember this place. My father, Alejandro, built it. The dungeon is where he—
we
make people disappear. Tomas leads me to an iron cage. Inside, a man who is just a pile of skin, bones, and matted hair is curled in a corner.

“Julian, you have another visitor,” Tomas barks.

The man doesn't move.

Tomas turns and grabs a metal rod and bangs on the bars. “Wake up.
Wake up!
” He produces a set of keys and opens the cage.

I walk inside.

The man lifts his head. “Cat?” he asks.

I stare at the man's beaten and deformed face.

Tomas chuckles. “I hope that you don't mind, but I had a little fun with him while you were gone.” He turns and looks at me with open emotion. “I blamed him for what happened to you that night on the boat. I thought that you were dead. When you went over the side . . .”

I remember.
A gun battle on the boat. I wrestled with this man. Tomas shot at him but Cataleyna stepped in front of him, knocking us all overboard. “I'm Carlos.”

Tomas nods with a wide smile. “Is it coming back to you now?”

I ignore him and kneel in front of the
real
Julian. Without even thinking, I wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze with everything I have.

Julian doesn't resist. It's as if he welcomes death. He chokes and turns a deep purple.

Disgusted, I fling him away.

Tomas laughs and pats me on the back. “Welcome back,
brother
.”

Now I remember everything: the months I watched Julian with his paws all over the woman I'd fallen in love with at first sight, an enemy's daughter, who I was determined to have at any cost.

“I don't understand how you're here . . . or where you've been,” Tomas says. “I'm having a hard time wrapping my brain around all of this.”

“I woke up in a hospital three months ago in Playa del Carmen. I couldn't remember who I was.” I look at Julian again. “I thought I was him.”

“However it happened. I'm glad you're back.” Tomas laughs and then embraces me. “Welcome home.”

I pull out of my shock and return my brother's embrace. However, I still have one question. “Cataleyna?”

There's a beat of hesitation. “I'll take you to her.”

I
wake with my entire face throbbing in pain. When I look around, I'm crushed to see that I'm still in my golden cage. “Julian.” I press a hand over my mouth, remembering the beaten and broken man down in the basement. Though he was black and blue with eyes swollen shut, I know it was him. Has he been down there all this time?

A key rattles in the door.

I freeze, clutching the bedding in my tight fist.

The door creaks open and the Vazquez brothers walk into the room. My mind goes wild. “What the fuck do you want?” I shout, inching away from them across the bed.

Tomas hits on the light switch and floods the room with light. “Like I told you. Safe and sound.”

A scarred and burned Carlos enters into the room. I glare at him in horror and disgust.

“You're here. I knew that I'd find you,” Carlos gushes with visible relief.

I frown and keep moving backward until I fall over the side of the bed.

“Careful!” He races over to help.

“I want to make sure that you're all—”

“I said don't touch me!” I spin my hands like a propeller, hitting him in the face, chest, and head.

“You're both monsters! I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” One punch catches Carlos in the lip. He explodes with anger and backhands me so hard that I crash back against the wall, sobbing.

Blinking, he immediately does a one-eighty and kneels down. “Cat, baby. I'm
so
sorry. I didn't mean to do that. I don't know what came over me.”

I shrink away. “Go away! Leave me alone.”

“I—”

Gritting his teeth, he checks his anger. “All right. I'll—let you get some rest.” Reluctantly, he stands and backs away. “I'll be back tomorrow. We can talk then—get to know each other.”

“What?” I stare, shaking my head. “When are you two going to get it through your heads. I don't want to have anything to do with you.
Ever!
” I turn and throw everything I can get my hands on: a brush, a mirror, and a lamp.
“
Get out! Get out!
Get out!”
I wail at him until I've backed him and his sadistic brother to the door.

Defeated, Carlos turns and walks out behind his brother.

After its slams, I slump against the door.

“She'll calm down,” I hear Tomas promise. “You have all the time you need, you'll bring her around.”

My tears fall faster.

Carlos's voice rumbles through the door where I huddle shaking. “Yeah. She'll come around. After all, we have plenty of time.”

I bow my head and cry.