Page 5 of Ravaged Hearts

I swapped the box of cigars to my other hand and brushed my fingers against Hope’s. “Once the meeting starts, unless I tell you otherwise, you’re to kneel beside my chair, eyes down. Okay?”

She made a small anxious sound. “I’m seriously beginning to regret the life choices that brought me to this moment.”

I directed Hope into a dark alleyway and backed her up against a wall. Her mouth parted in surprise when I took her chin between my thumb and forefinger and tilted her face up to meet mine. “I’ll take care of you in there. No one will hurt you. No one except me will even lay a finger on you. I’d sooner kill every last motherfucker in this meeting than let that happen. Just follow my lead, do exactly as I say, and everything will be all right. I promise.”

She nodded and exhaled a shuddering breath. Then I pressed my lips to hers gently, hoping the gesture conveyed how precious she was to me. It was the last time I’d show her any kindness until we returned to our hotel room. From here on out, she was my property, and I needed to remember to treat her as such.

A short walk later, we reached the bar. It was a multilevel building wedged between an open-air restaurant and a hotel with a cracked pale-blue facade. I gave the bouncer the code word from el Capitán’s text message, and he opened the door. Hope followed a couple of paces behind me, the way a slave girl would.

There were people inside the bar—men and women—although not a regular bar crowd. It looked more like a private party for a bunch of gangbangers and strippers. Beneath low lighting, an almost naked woman danced around a pole. Half a dozen guys played cards at a table near the back, while a few others were shooting pool.

At a lounge area to the side, girls dressed similarly to Hope draped themselves over the laps of heavily tattooed men, all inked with red handprints on their necks that declared them members of la Mano Roja. I recognized a few of them.

One guy rose from the sofa, unceremoniously shoving his lady friend off his lap. “El piloto loco.”

The crazy pilot.I’d earned that moniker many times over when doing jobs for la Mano Roja after I first got out of Zulu. Did I have a death wish at the time? Probably. In those days, my life revolved around doing anything to forget the fucked-up shit that had happened to me.

I wasn’t proud of the coping mechanisms I’d employed. Drugs, booze, meaningless bathroom-stall hookups. And of course, trafficking product for la Mano Roja in some of the most dangerous and inhospitable places in Central and South America. I’d chased anything to either numb the pain or fill me with so much adrenaline that I was forced to remain in the present.

As the man drew nearer, I recognized him as José, one of Miguel’s junior enforcers. Well, he’d been a junior when I’d met him several years ago, but the cocky way he strutted toward me made me think he’d moved up the ranks. It was surprising he’d stayed alive this long. I didn’t recall him being all that smart.

“Welcome, Brother,” José said, and extended his hand. When I glared at his open palm like it was smeared with shit, he dropped it. “That’s right. I forgot you’re weird about touching.”

Weird?If wanting to rip this asshole’s spine from his body was weird, then yeah, I guessed I was. I reminded myself it would be poor form to murder the welcoming committee, so I took a deep breath before I changed my mind.

“José,” I said with a nod.

His slimy gaze moved behind me, and I sensed Hope shifting nervously on her high heels.

“Collared.” José chuckled in a knowing way. “Someone’s been sampling the product.”

Hope moved nearer to me, and I positioned myself to block her from this jackass’s view. “Not sampling. She’smine.”

“My mistake.” José stroked his embarrassingly sparse goatee. I’d seen fourteen-year-olds with coarser whiskers than this clown. “The boss is waiting for you upstairs. She can stay down here with us.”

“No” was all I said as I brushed past him with Hope sticking close behind.

We made our way to the first floor and were met by another bouncer guarding a door. “Weapons and phones in the box.”

I removed my two pistols—the one from the waistband of my jeans and the other from my ankle holster—as well as the blade at my hip. My phone went in last. The guard ran a metal detector wand over Hope and me before ushering us inside.

The large, smoky room resembled a club’s VIP area with sofa seating on one side, a bar on the other, and a large poker table in the middle where Miguel and his second-in-command, Armando, sat with two other men. They must’ve just finished a hand, because all four of them had their cards facing up on the table while Armando greedily scooped cash, a gold watch, and a chunky diamond-encrusted ring toward himself.

And over in the corner, sitting locked inside a goddamn cage like a zoo animal, sat a woman as naked as the day she was born except for the pink collar around her neck.

Despite expecting a scene like this, it took all my effort not to react with fury and revulsion at the sight of the woman kneeling on a cushion, thighs spread, utterly exposed. With eyes downcast, she slowly swayed to the beat of the electronic music permeating the room from the party below. Track marksscored her arms, and I was almost glad for it because at least it meant she had some escape from her miserable reality.

This. This was why Hope and I were risking so much to be here. We had to stop this vile shit from happening. I couldn’t do anything to help the woman in the cage tonight, but I’d make sure Brandon knew of her situation so he could plan an extraction op.

La Mano Roja hadn’t always been involved in human trafficking. Back when I did jobs for them, they’d only ever asked me to move drugs, weapons, and cash. This side of their transportation role had kicked off when the Pacific Coast Cartel had expanded into flesh peddling.

“El piloto loco. Llegaste justo a tiempo,” Miguel said.You arrived just in time.“I’m about to lose my villa in Tulum to this asshole if I don’t stop playing.”

Armando laughed as he folded notes and stuffed them into his trouser pockets.

The two men I didn’t recognize rose from their seats and relocated to the bar, taking their glasses of amber liquor with them.

I let a lazy smile slide across my lips. “That’s a shame. Thought I could join you for a few hands.”

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