Risky: Torn Between Two Lovers (11 page)

A man stood there grinning at her, his face illuminated by the interior light. She was vaguely surprised at his nondescript appearance, and thought he could’ve been an average Joe working an office job somewhere instead of a thug in the employ of a mobster.

“Sleeping Beauty is awake, eh? You were supposed to sleep a while longer, not that it matters.”

She suppressed a shudder, trying not to imagine why it didn’t. Instead, she leveled him with a glare that expressed the anger she couldn’t voice with her mouth taped shut. It only served to make him laugh, which pissed her off even more. He just reached in, grabbed her ankles, and hauled her out the door, causing her to fall backward and smack her head on the floor of the vehicle. She slid helplessly out and onto hard pavement, letting out a muffled cry as her tailbone took the brunt of the drop and her bound arms were scraped raw.

The man let her feet go and she fought to sit up, then raised her gaze to find herself the subject of plenty of amusement. The man who’d dragged her from the van was joined by two other men, one portly with a barrel-sized middle. And the third man …

Anna’s breath caught in her throat. The tall man staring down at her with cold eyes was anything but average-looking. He was built like a pro quarterback and bald as a cue ball. He was a handsome man, dark brows arching over those calculating eyes, his jaw square, mouth unlined as though his face had never learned how to smile.

“I am Petrov,” he told her in a cool, Russian-accented voice. “For the moment, you are a house guest of Deno Santos.”

She snorted, making it clear what she thought of the word guest.

Petrov went on, completely unperturbed. “Enjoy your stay while you can. Because when Santos has no more need of your presence, I will make you wish for death.”

He paused, to let that sink in.

“And then I will grant your wish.”

***

Joaquin Delacruz never thought he’d see the day when he’d beg for the FBI’s help—especially when that involved working with Special Agent Grayson Sloane.

For years, the man had nursed a burning desire to see Joaquin behind bars. He’d hunted for evidence that Joaquin was crooked with a dogged determination that he would have admired under any other circumstances. Hell, he might even have hired the man as a bodyguard.

But Sloane hated him with a passion, now more than ever. Especially since the agent had fucked up his relationship with Anna and driven her to run.

Straight into his arms. Privately, Joaquin had worried that she’d return to her former lover … and then the unthinkable happened.

Joaquin had lost her to an even more lethal enemy.

Rio had cautioned him against bringing Anna into their world, and he hadn’t listened to his brother. Now she was paying the price.

Burying his hands in his hair, he paced his study, unaware of the door opening until Henry got his attention.

“Boss, the feds are here.” The bodyguard’s voice revealed none of his distaste for their presence, considering they were right on his heels. The big man stepped aside to admit Rio, Sloane and another man Joaquin had never met before.

“Have you had any contact with Santos?” Sloane asked by way of greeting.

“The bastard’s not returning my calls.”

“Big surprise there. He wants to make you suffer.”

The agent was suffering, too, if the grooves around his mouth and the shadows underneath his eyes were any indication. Joaquin
almost
felt sorry for him. But Sloane had missed out on his chance with Anna, had in fact betrayed and hurt her. Seeing her safe was the
only
reward the agent was going to get.

“Where would Santos take Anna?” the second agent asked.

Joaquin shifted his gaze to the dark-haired man. “And you are?”

“Special Agent Simon King.”

Joaquin nodded in acknowledgement. “In answer to your question, he could’ve taken her anywhere by now. The man has ties all over the world.”

“He could have, but is that his style?” Sloane pressed. “Would he expend that much effort if he didn’t need to? After all, his goal is simple—to keep you in check and under the mob’s thumb. Or rather,
his
thumb.”

“Anna is his leverage,” Rio mused. “But why try to kill you, in that case?”

Joaquin’s jaw clenched in frustration. “That was Santos grandstanding, sending me a giant
fuck you
on my own turf. Letting me and everyone else know he did it because he can. If he had meant to kill me, I’d be dead right now.”

“So, this leads us to search, where?” Grayson snapped.

Joaquin paused, considering. “Santos has businesses and warehouses around the city. He’s even ballsy enough to take her to his estate.”

“Where is that located?”

“East of here, about ten miles.”

“Guards?”

Joaquin let out a humorless laugh. “Are you kidding? His place is like Fort Knox. We’d be shot if we got within a mile of the house.”

“First of all, there’s no
we
in that scenario,” Sloane said curtly. “Simon and I could get together a team, make entry, and extract her before they know what’s happening. The other option is for you to make contact, play along, do as he demands. Then we set up a meet to exchange Anna for ransom.”

“Santos doesn’t need cash,” Joaquin said, shaking his head.

“Then what would he want more than anything?”

“Unbelievable.” He snorted and glanced at Rio, who rolled his eyes at their stupidity. “Did you get your badge from a box of cereal, Sloane? What the hell do you think he desires above all else? A large chunk of my businesses.”

Simon spoke up. “The illegal ones?”

Joaquin hesitated. This was where things could get dicey. He needed their help to rescue Anna, but if he admitted exactly which of his businesses Santos coveted, that would be as good as an admission of guilt. Leaning against his desk, he affected a casual pose and tried to appear collected.
Right.

“Let’s say I owned an import company that wasn’t exactly on the up and up, as well as a marijuana-growing operation, both of which I’m phasing out. All hypothetical, of course.”

“Of course.” Sloane grinned, a predatory gleam in his eyes.

“And let’s further say that Santos would do just about anything to get control of them, lock, stock and barrel. That might just be enough to get him to agree to release Anna.”

Sloane crossed his arms over his broad chest, hope flickering across his face. “That might do it.”

“It could work. But I have to ask what’s in this plan for the FBI? I know
you’re
doing it because you still have feelings for Anna, but what does the FBI want from me?”

Sloane narrowed his eyes. “We want Santos. He’s a much bigger fish than you.”

“Thanks,” he said dryly.

“You get him to go for it. Set up the meet to officially hand over your operations to him, and I accompany you posing as your attorney. After the transfer of ownership, our team descends and hauls his ass to jail. His house of cards comes down in the aftermath.”

Joaquin braced himself for the rest. “And mine, too. That’s what you’ve always wanted, isn’t it? To see me burn?”

Sloane was silent for a long moment, and when he spoke, his answer shocked Joaquin. “It used to be, back when I didn’t buy that you were phasing out your father’s illegal dealings. I truly believed there was no way you
could
break out of the mob, even if you wanted to.”

“And what changed your mind?” he asked quietly.

“I’ve been talking with Rio. Your brother showed me a bunch of interesting documents dating back at least five years. Records of sales of your father’s businesses, your decreasing revenue from those fronts, along with the increasing earnings from your casino and hotel, which I believe to be legit.”

Joaquin glanced at his brother, who nodded. He turned his attention back to Sloane. “It is.”

“The evidence is there. I didn’t choose a career in the FBI to put men like you in prison, but men like Santos. Men who will never stop pushing drugs, the sex trade, illegal imports, and anything else that could conceivably make them loads of money, fast. Men who kidnap and commit murder to get what they want.”

“What are you saying?” God, he was afraid to hope. Maybe there was a way out after all.

“I’m making an offer. Give us Santos on a platter, caught red-handed with proof of his criminal empire, and you walk away from all of it. The FBI won’t darken your door again.”

Joaquin fought to keep his voice level as Rio gaped in shock. “You’re not serious.”

“Completely. The businesses will be shut down, and you’ll be free of them, as you claim to want.”

“The other families will know I rolled over on Santos to get Anna back.”

Sloane flinched almost imperceptibly. Perhaps at the mention of Anna back with him, rather than Sloane. “We’ll try to minimize your participation, but yeah. They’ll probably figure it out. But he did harm to a woman, someone you care for. That will hold a lot of weight with the other families. Mess with the women and your life isn’t worth shit.”

“True.” For the first time since waking up in the hospital just hours before, he felt real hope.

“Are you in?”

Joaquin studied both men, took a deep breath. “To have Anna returned safely, I’d give all that I own, every last dime. Of course I’m in.”

Both the agents looked relieved. Sloane, however, wasn’t finished. “Good. But if this goes south and you doublecross us, get any of our men or Anna hurt, I’ll save the public a trial. We clear?”

“Perfectly.” He gave Sloane a cold smile. “Same goes. Doublecross
me
or get Anna hurt, and there won’t be anywhere on the planet you can hide from me. Got that?”

“Yeah. We understand each other.”

“I’ll keep trying to contact Santos. He’s enjoying this, but he’ll get tired of waiting soon enough.”

“Do that. And by the way, Simon and I will be your guests until this is over. This is the perfect place to lie low.”

“Fine,” he said, barely hiding his annoyance. “Have Henry show you to a couple of rooms.”

After the men left the office, Rio shut the door behind them and studied his brother in worry. “You shouldn’t have left the hospital. You look like death warmed over.”

“I feel worse than that, believe me. But there’s no way I’d stay, not when Anna’s with those animals, probably terrified.” Lowering himself to a sofa, he stared absently at a painting on the wall. “Do you think he’s given her to Petrov? That the bastard is hurting her?”

Moving over to him, Rio squeezed his shoulder. “No, I don’t think so. Not yet. She’s his leverage, as you said.”

“I hope you’re right.”
God, Anna.

“I am.”

Slowly, he raised his gaze to his brother’s face. “The FBI is never going to get the chance to send Santos to prison. You know that, right?”

Rio understood. “Yeah. I know, and I’ve got your back all the way.”

Relief swamped him, along with a wave of sick fatigue. “It’s as good as done.”

The train was in motion, rolling downhill, and not even Deno Santos would be able to stop it now. He was going to die.

For taking Anna, the motherfucker was going to die
slowly
.

And Joaquin’s face would be the last one he’d ever see.