Page 83 of Burning Beauty

He was dragged back to the countertop, his hand placed palm down, tears streaming down his face. "P-please, I'll give you everything. I'll draw a map to her. I'll give you bank accounts, contacts, everything you need to bring Delgado down."

"Ah, loyalty," Mercer commented, his eyes as emotionless as if he was watching a boring movie.

Nic leaned in close to Ronson, uncaring of the chips that flew up at him when he put the next bullet through the other man's hand. As he screamed, Nic said in a calm voice, "You touched my woman." He waited a beat. "I took away your ability to touch. This was punishment. The main event will be your death, but your next words will decide how fast that death will come." He looked around at Franco. "The first one to give me the location of Maria Sanchez gets a bullet in the brain. The other will paint these walls red until I'm satisfied your suffering has sent a message through the underworld. My woman is untouchable."

Franco looked frantically around, probably for a piece of paper considering he couldn't speak. Ronson beat him, words pouring out of his mouth like a waterfall of information. "She's in Mexico, sold to the Carrero family. They had a bounty on her head."

"Alive or dead?" Mercer growled.

"Alive!" Ronson was quick to assure them. "The family wanted her alive, they were insistent. Seemed to want some information from her."

"What did they want with her?" Nic demanded, his finger twitching against his gun. The weight of the weapon in his palm, resting against his leg, gave him a sense of calm. He would end these men the moment they gave him what he needed.

"I don't know, they didn't say." He jerked a thumb at Franco. "He didn't ask. Just wanted her gone before you came looking."

"Why?" Nic asked sharply. "I thought he wanted her for himself. Why sell her off?"

"She was hurt," Ronson said, though it was the wrong thing to say.

Rage swept over Nic and it took real effort not to kill Franco and Ronson on the spot and then set about dismantling the entire organization. Nic got right in Ronson's face. Ice dripped from every word as he spoke, his accent thick from anger, "Tell me what happened, and do not leave out a single detail."

"One of the guys hired to pick her up at the wedding punched her in the head. Think she had a concussion." Nic pressed his gun against Ronson's belly, his finger tightening on the trigger. "That's all I know, man!"

"Where is she now?" Nic demanded. "Give me every detail and we'll release you."

Hope lit Ronson's face. "She's in Guadalajara. She was taken about four hours ago."

"Grazie," Nic said, then lifted his gun to Ronson's head. Boris stepped away from the gangster. "I release you."

Ronson closed his eyes as the bullet left the gun to embed deep in his brain. He went straight back, the force of the bullet throwing him. Nic turned back to Franco before the body even hit the ground. Franco was on his knees, rocking, his arms wrapped around himself. His pale face told them he understood what was going to happen next.

"Make sure he suffers for as long as you can keep him alive. The messier the better. His people will understand the error in fucking with Niccolo DeLuca and then they will die as well. I don't want a single Delgado associate or contact left alive. This continent will whisper my name with terror." His cold gaze flickered around the room. "The message does not need to be a subtle one."

Chapter Forty-Seven

The pleasant aroma of fresh baked tortillas filled the air as Inez pulled the tray from her stone oven. She'd had it specially installed for pizzas, tortillas and bread. Maria had always loved Inez's cooking, it had been a welcome comfort when her mama had died. Maria was sitting on a stool at the counter, sipping on a glass of tequila. She'd been hesitant to accept the glass, thinking it might be imprudent to drink while she had a concussion.

Marc's father had handed her the first glass, his solemn eyes holding hers for a painfully long time, or so it felt. Maria felt like she had to accept the peace offering. He hadn't apologized for his treatment of her, he hadn't asked her to repeat her story the way Inez had. He just handed her the glass filled with the amber liquid, clinked his glass against hers, and said, "Goodbye Marc," before draining it.

Tears in her eyes, Maria did the same, murmuring, "Goodbye Marc," and then drinking. He topped her glass up and strode away, leaving her alone. Maria had made her way to the kitchen where she was now sitting and chatting with Inez and Hector. They filled her in on life in Guadalajara. Little Carmen married a banker straight out of high school and was living the high society lifestyle now. Maria smiled at that, happy for the younger woman.

Maria was busy on Hector's smart phone, trying to figure out how to call Nic to let him know where she was. She felt pretty certain it wouldn't take him long to find her. He would've figured out that it was Franco who grabbed her, gone to Vegas guns blazing and then headed into Mexico once he extracted her location. As sure as she was though, Maria wanted to get hold of him before he came into the Carrero household, shooting first and asking questions later.

Damn it, why hadn't he insisted she memorize his number? He was so ridiculously overprotective of Maria that she was surprised he hadn't thought of this. "I mean, who gets to keep their cell phone when they're kidnapped? Obviously it was lost in the scuffle," Maria muttered, looking down at the phone as she tried to figure out what to do. She tried Googling his name but got absolutely nothing in the search. Which was weird. How did someone get their name taken out of Google? On a hunch Maria googled her own name, which a few months ago would've produced a ton of articles on 'the black widow' who killed her fiancé and got away with his murder. Now there was nothing. As if she never existed.

"Wow," she murmured to herself. What kind of power and money would it take to erase a person?

"Give me the phone," Hector said, holding his hand out. She gave him back his phone, and he busied himself tapping away at it. Two minutes later he handed it back to her, tapping the screen with his nail. "There you go. Call him."

Maria gaped at him. He shrugged. "I know a few people who also know people. And DeLuca is a man that many on this side of the border want to do business with. It's not his personal number, but the number of an associate. Go ahead and call, he'll put you in touch with your man."

"Thank you," Maria whispered, overcome with emotion. It was amazing how these people could go from hating the sight of her and wanting her to die for the crime of taking their son away, to wanting to help reunite her with her new love.

Maria stood up from the table and wandered to the window, pressing the dial button on the phone. It took some convincing, but finally Marc's contact agreed to get hold of Nic and pass on a message. He threatened her if she was wrong. Nic had little patience for liars and schemers, which is apparently what this guy thought Maria was. Maybe he thought she was an ex-lover trying to track Nic down. She assured him that Nic would be very happy to receive the message.

As if to prove her right, the phone rang less than a minute later, 'no caller ID' flashing across the screen. Grinning, Maria answered it. "Nic!"

"Tell me you're okay," his deep voice demanded.

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