Page 28 of Scarred Souls

I had my reasons for being a prick. When you got a person angry, they revealed their true self, which made it easy to spot a lie. I was reluctant to admit that so far, Hope had passed every one of my questions with flying colors. Maybe Brandon was right about her. Relief swept through me because my instincts hadn’t failed me after all.

A cartel princess with morals and a conscience. Go figure.

I pressed my lips together. “Okay. Let’s say I believe you. For now.”

Hope shifted on her feet nervously. “What do you want with me?”

“Just one thing. I need you to help us find your father.” As far as I was concerned, that was the only way for Hope to prove that her passionate distaste for Espinoza and his cartel was real.

She bared her teeth. “You come here accusing me of being the enemy, and now you want my help?”

“The way I see it, you need me more than I need you.”

“The last thing I need in my life is another controlling, violent man.”

Goddammit. This would be so much easier done my way instead of Brandon’s. I’d have Hope bound and gagged in the back of my truck, and we’d be on our way to the airport already.

Diplomacy. Discretion, I reminded myself, cringing internally that my job had been reduced to this. Hand me a rifle, and point me at the enemy. That was what I was good for. Not this negotiating bullshit.

I took a deep breath and focused on the team’s goal. Taking down Espinoza.

“If you truly hate your father like you claim, why wouldn’t you help us?”

“Because I don’t trust you. My entire life has been dictated by overbearing men forcing me one way or another, and not once has it worked out well for me. And now you show up and back me into a corner?—”

“You were backed into a corner before I got here.” I lowered my chin. “What do you want, Hope? Is it your plan to stay in this village pretending to be someone else forever?”

“I like it here,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what my future holds, but I don’t want to leave.”

“Then know this. Playa de la Palmera is running out of time. I wasn’t lying when I said the cartel has its sights set on doing business here, so let me tell you what will happen unless we put a stop to it. Your father will send men, and when this community makes a stand against them, he’ll send more. And not the newbies we encountered last night. I’m talking about experienced hitters who’ll spill as much blood as necessary to get the job done. Maybe that murderous ex-fiancé of yours will even turn up and start dismembering people if he wants to make an example. You don’t want that, do you?”

Anguish lined her face, and she shook her head.

“I thought so. Believe it or not, I don’t want that, either.”

Hope’s decision lay in the balance. I sensed that she wanted to believe me but wasn’t sure if she should. It took a huge leap of faith for someone as guarded as Elena Espinoza to share secrets with a man like me. And since Brandon wanted her loose-lipped and compliant, there was no way around it. I had to find a way to get her to trust me. I was out of my depth here, but I had an idea.

“Would it help if you spoke to a colleague of mine?” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Someone who could vouch for me?”

“Who?” Hope asked.

I dialed Sage for a video call. “It’s probably best if you talk to her.”

There was something about Hope that reminded me of Brandon’s wife. They were both bold, brave, and didn’t take crap from men. They’d probably like each other.

Sage picked up after a few rings, and her smiling face filled the screen. “What’s up, buttercup?” She moved through the barn, probably taking care of the animals that needed tending to each morning.

Back home in Montana, our team of ex–black ops mercenaries operated out of a working ranch. Brandon had made a few upgrades to the sprawling property. We had our own airstrip and a hangar full of aircraft, vehicles, weapons, and anything an elite assault unit might need to take down a small army. Or, as the case had been lately, cartels.

The ranch also functioned as a halfway house for the women we rescued from sex slavery, as well as a retreat for veterans suffering from PTSD. We offered programs to help them deal with their trauma and reintegrate into society.

Before I could return Sage’s greeting, she winced and brought the camera closer to her face. “Holy shit. Who beat you up?”

I touched my split lip. “No one important. They look worse.”

“I’ll bet.” A rooster crowed in the background. “Hey, I have someone who wants to see you.” Sage leaned down and scooped up a spoiled, overfed diva of a hen. “Esmeralda wants to say hi. Look, Esme,” she cooed. “Daddy’s on the phone.”

I didn’t embarrass easily, but I could’ve sworn I was standing in a sauna. “Christ, Sage. Put her down. This isn’t a good time. I need your?—”

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