Unveiled (Vargas Cartel #2) (16 page)

Chapter Twenty-Six

Ryker

“How much longer?” I asked, drumming my hands against the leather steering wheel.

“Any minute,” Rever answered without glancing at me.

“Dammit, Rever. Text her. The mass is going to end in less than twenty minutes, and then we’ll be fucked. I’m not getting into a gunfight on the church steps. I’m not religious, but I have limits.”

He rolled down the window of the car and a wave of humid heat collided with the air-conditioned interior. “I did text her.”

“Text her again.”

“She knows we’re here. She’ll be here any second.”

“Unless she set us up and we’re about to get slaughtered.”

His head whipped around. “She wouldn’t do that.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“Fine, but if she doesn’t walk out that door in the next ten minutes, I’m leaving. You can come with me, or you can stay. I don’t care.”

“She’ll come,” he murmured. “I’m not worried.”

Time ticked by, second-by-second. I stared at the dashboard, willing ten minutes to pass. Part of me wanted Anna to keep her ass firmly planted on that wooden pew and reject Rever forever. The other part of me prayed she’d hurry the fuck up so I could put the final punctuation mark on this chapter of my life and move forward with Hattie and our baby.

With two minutes to spare, a petite woman with long black hair and a white full-length dress ran down the front steps, a straw tote bag clutched in her hand. She had a flawless olive complexion except the J-shaped scar near her right temple.

Rever flung the car door open. “Anna.”

She waved her hands above her head. “Go back to the car. We can’t do this today. They know something is going on.”

“No,” Rever yelled as he stalked up the steps. “You’re coming with me today.”

Anna glanced over her shoulder. A man dressed in jeans and a black t-shirt pushed open the front door of the church. “Go. Go without me,” Anna yelled, moving slowly back up the steps.

Rever charged forward, grabbing her around the waist and tossed her over his shoulder. She pounded her fists on his back and kicked her legs. “
Suéltame. Suéltame, abusón
,” she screamed, pleading for him to let her go.

“No.”

“Dammit,” I muttered.

I knew this wouldn’t work. It was too simple. Too many things could go wrong. I snagged my gun off the center console and jumped out of the car. I held the gun in front of me and used the hood to shield my body. The man in the black t-shirt lifted a gun and aimed it at Rever’s head. I didn’t stop to think. I pulled the trigger.

The shot exploded through the air, drowning out the hum of the church hymn. His gun fell out of his hand, clattering down the steps and rolling to a stop in the street. He collapsed to his knees, clutching his bicep. His face drained of color as blood poured down his arm, splattering on the pristine ivory steps.

Screams drifted from inside the church walls. Rever set Anna on her feet. He stared at the scene, frozen in the moment, not moving, not breathing. Tears poured down her face as she stuffed her fist into her mouth and bent at her waist.

“Move.” I pounded my hand against the hood. “Get in the car. We have to leave now.”

Car tires squealed around the corner, and I dove in the front seat. Rever grabbed Anna’s wrist and yanked her down the steps. She slapped his chest and clawed at his hand as she tried to break free. “He’s my brother. I can’t leave him. He’s bleeding. Oh my God. This my fault. This was a dumb idea. I knew it.”

Rever shoved her in the backseat and jumped in beside her. He looped his arms around her waist and rocked her back and forth. “It’s going to be okay. It’s just a flesh wound. Nothing more,” he whispered next to her ear.

A car swerved around us, coming to an abrupt stop perpendicular to the front bumper of our car, stopping the flow of traffic. I cranked the wheel to the right and slammed on the gas pedal. Our car jumped the curb, and my head whipped to the side. Sparks flew as the metal car rims grinded against the church steps. The minute we passed the car blocking the street, I jerked the steering wheel to the right, and we were back on the asphalt again.

Pop.

Pop. Pop. Pop!

Gunshots shattered the back window. Little slivers of glass showered over Rever and Anna’s heads like rice at a wedding recessional.

“Drive faster,” Rever barked, sheltering Anna’s body with his.

I wove through the steady stream of cars, scooters, and golf carts clogging the main road circling the tiny island. “I’m going as fast as I can,” I said through clenched teeth. “Take this and aim for their tires. Don’t kill anyone,” I yelled, tossing my gun over my shoulder. “We need to get them off our tail if we want to get into that helicopter and off this island in one piece.”

Rever shoved Anna to the floorboard of the car and fired shot after shot out the back window until the road behind us cleared. I turned the corner and slammed on the brakes. Emilio’s helicopter was waiting at the designated meeting spot. The roar of the blades drowned out the sounds of the ocean crashing against the slick, black rocks.

“Hurry. They will be here any second,” I yelled as I flung open the door and ran to the helicopter, not waiting for Rever and Anna. He could take care of her. I’d done all I could for them.

As soon as we made it back to the Vargas compound, I was done with all of this shit, forever. I had supported my brother. I dropped everything to be at Ignacio’s bedside, and he shoved it back in my face. I’d walked the line between two worlds and two lives for too many years to count. I couldn’t do it anymore. I had a kid on the way, and if Ignacio or Rever wanted anything else from me, then tough shit. I’d given enough. Sacrificed enough.

My hands shook as I buckled my seatbelt. My eyes strained for any sign of Anna’s security detail. Rever ducked his head and jogged to the door with Anna in his arms.

The minute Rever closed the door behind him, the helicopter lifted from the ground, and I took my first real breath since walking out of the hotel room this morning.

Still sobbing, Anna buried her head in Rever’s lap. Rever stared out the window, his hand noticeably shaking as he stroked her hair.

“We did it,” Rever said, his voice raspy.

“We did, but the next part is going to be the hardest,” I replied, my eyes still trained on the shrinking island.

“What do you mean?”

“We have to wait for Juan Alvarez to retaliate.”

“Do you think he’ll do something?”

I snorted. “Yes.”

“Well, that’s Ignacio’s problem. Anna and I will be gone tomorrow and so will you and Hattie. Ignacio can deal with it. Violence and revenge are his specialty.”

“I hope you’re right.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Hattie

Ryker didn’t come back to the hotel last night. He texted me late in the afternoon saying he wouldn’t be back until sometime this morning. He and Rever went to visit Ignacio. Ryker told me he didn’t want me to go with him, which was fine. I never wanted to step foot inside the Vargas compound again, much less see Ignacio. Ryker said he wasn’t doing well, but that didn’t soften my opinion of him.

As I exited the hotel, I turned on my iPod. I needed to run. I needed fresh air. We’d been in Mexico for almost four days, and I hadn’t done much of anything except work on a research paper for my graduate degree. My back ached from being hunched over my laptop. Ryker warned me not to stray too far from the hotel grounds, but I hadn’t jogged in days. I didn’t plan to be gone long. Maybe thirty or forty minutes, and we were in the middle of Playa del Carmen, a tourist destination, not a cartel stronghold.

I rounded the corner, increasing my speed. At six thirty in the morning, the streets were empty except for a few people standing at the bus stop. I liked exploring the town this way. I could see traces of the sleepy fishing village before the tourist industry crept southward from Cancun.

With each stride, my feet pounded against the uneven sun-bleached pavement. Music screamed from my earbuds, blocking out the world. The faint tinge of ocean air tickled my nose. Sweat beaded at my temples. The humid air stuck in my lungs. Even this early in the morning, my clothes clung to my body like a second skin. I’d never get used to this weather.

I vaulted on and off the narrow sidewalk, avoiding signs, trashcans, and planters. My legs burned, but I pushed harder, hammering away at the cobwebs in my brain from too many sleepless nights and too much anxiety.

My phone repeatedly vibrated against my leg in the zipped pocket of my running shorts. Ryker was probably trying to reach me. He could wait. I’d decided to fly home today or tomorrow, regardless of whether his plans had changed. I wanted to go home. I hadn’t seen Ryker much during the entire trip. He didn’t need me here. I didn’t belong here. As much as he denied it, this was his world.

I paused at the intersection as a white sedan turned the corner and came to an abrupt halt. A convoy of three trucks whipped around the corner, slamming on their brakes, effectively boxing me in.

A chill ghosted down my spine, and my skin prickled beneath the sheen of sweat. My heart squeezed painfully. I ripped my earbuds from my ears and draped the wire around the back of my neck. Panicked, I glanced over my shoulder for an escape route that didn’t include walking by the cars. Just then, the passenger car doors opened. Men dressed in black exited the cars with assault weapons slung over their shoulders.

A scream bubbled up in my chest, but when I opened my mouth it resembled a whimper. Frozen with fear, I bit down on the inside of my cheek until the metallic taste of blood coated my mouth. My stomach flipped like an over-easy egg. Hundreds of thoughts raced through my mind, colliding like bumper cars as they vied for my attention.

I willed my legs to move, but dread cemented them to the ground.

“Rapido. Rapido,”
one man bellowed, waving his gun back and forth like a macabre music conductor.

Fuck.
They were here for me. Blood drained from my face, and I swayed. Trembling, my iPod slipped from my boneless fingertips, cartwheeling down the sidewalk into the street. Strangely detached from reality, I watched it tumble around and around until it skidded to a stop.

Then, something clicked in my brain, and I ran. I ran like my life depended on it, and it probably did.

“Help me. Somebody help me,” I screamed, not even pausing to glance over my shoulder. I vaulted over a collapsible sidewalk sign advertising breakfast. The toe of my sneaker caught the wooden edge, and it tipped over, sliding across the pavement.

“
Agarrarla,”
a man yelled.

Strands of hair whipped around my face. Cold sweat poured down my back. My lungs burned. Blood thundered in my ears like a steam train, getting louder and louder with every stride.

Please don’t let them catch me
.

Please don’t let them catch me.

Please don’t—

Before I could finish the thought a third time, arms snaked around my waist, gouging the flesh of my stomach, centimeter by centimeter. The rubber soles of my sneakers scraped across the pavement. I lurched forward, battling him with every muscle fiber in my body, but instead of breaking his hold, we tumbled forward onto the sidewalk. Pain zigzagged up my arms as my hands crashed against the ground. Dirt and gravel dug into my flesh like shrapnel.

I scrambled forward, my fingernails clawing at the hairline fractures in the pavement as though I could rip them open and find refuge from the nightmare unfolding with lightning speed. Rust-colored blood from my hands streaked the pavement in parallel lines. He yanked my head backward by my hair, and my scalp pulsed with mind-splitting pain. Like a bull taunted by a matador in a bullfight, a red haze of bloodlust tinted my vision. I donkey-kicked backward over and over, relishing every grunt and groan spilling from the man’s mouth.

I wouldn’t win. I knew it. He knew it. He weighed at least a hundred pounds more than me. He had a gun. He had five men helping him, but I’d fight until I couldn’t fight any longer. For me. For our baby.

“
Pinche puta,”
the man cursed next to my ear. Saliva splattered across the side of my face. Like a noxious gas, the smell of garlic and stale cigarette smoke infiltrated my lungs. I gagged, barely choking back the bile blistering the walls of my throat.

He shoved my face into the ground. My teeth rattled. Tears streamed unchecked down my sweat-stained face. Dirt coated my lips, crunching between my teeth.

“Fuck you. You piece of shit.” I growled as I reached back and yanked a handful of his greasy hair, tearing it from the roots. My hand fell to the ground. Looking down, my stomach lurched when I saw a fistful of black hair threaded between my fingers.

“Did your boyfriend think we’d ignore his insult? That we wouldn’t retaliate?” His hand coiled around the front of my neck, constricting the air to my lungs, and pressing with alarming accuracy against my jugular. I gasped for air. My body ached. Terror screamed through my veins.

My fingernails burrowed into his hand, scratching and mauling him like a feral alley cat. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said, but the words sounded more like hoarse whimpers.

“Shut the fuck up. All he had to do was mind his own business and stay the hell out of Mexico and away from Anna.”

“No. No. No,” I mumbled. My vision blurred from a combination of tears and lack of air. Everything looked wavy and distorted. I drew my body into a tight ball. Ryker was supposed to protect me. He said he’d keep me safe, but he was nowhere to be found as his enemies stole my future, like cherry blossoms swept away in a spring wind.
I had no one. Nothing.

Not again.
Not again.
I chanted, wishing my thoughts alone could stop this from happening. The butt of his gun collided with the side of my head, sandwiching my skull against the ground. Pain exploded inside my head, and white stars splashed behind my eyes. My vision tunneled to a pinprick, and then everything went dark.