Page 51 of Brutal Knight

ELEVEN

PRESENT DAY

I woke, sandwiched between Antonio and Carlos, draped across Carlos’ lap. I knew this because his new belt buckle was poking into my cheek.

I was still dressed,thank god, but was missing my shoes and purse. Fortunately, they hadn’t discovered the knife sewn into my dress.

I pretended to still be out of it, while I listened to what was going on around me.

"Why the fuck are we bringing her here?” I heard Carlos ask. “It’s only asking for trouble.”

"When he's done with her, she won't even know where she is. Besides, she doesn't have any loyalty to the Kings, otherwise she wouldn't have given us Benny,” Antonio answered.

“Exactly. She hasn’t picked a side, so who’s to say…”

They continued to talk but Antonio’s words drowned out anything else:when he's done with her…

He.

Who the hell was ‘he’ and what did cartel business have to do with me? I was a neutral party, careful to live under the King protection, being as useful as possible without bringing any heat on me from anywhere else. Giving them Benny was as far as I’d ever gone, and only because I was desperate.

I didn't give a shit where their warehouse was.

All I wanted was information to destroy Knight, and then I would take my ass away from this dirty city. Once I was gone, the cartel and the Kings could kill each other over this shitty place, for all I cared. I fully intended to live the rest of my life sipping margaritas on some white, sandy beach that the world had forgotten about.

Once Knight was dead.

Or, that was supposed to be the plan, anyway. The pact that I’d made with Rook years ago, and one that I was finding much more difficult to carry out than I expected.

However, telling these guys my life goals meant nothing to these men. Despite the somewhat friendly relationship I had with Antonio and Carlos, we didn’t trust each other. And they certainly would never choose me over one of their bosses.

Whatever was in store for me was going to be dangerous. The Mendozas didn’t bring you in for cocktails and shrimp.

Or margaritas and tamales, for that matter.

All that mattered now was staying alive, and discovering the identity of this mysterious man.

As the car slowed and came to a stop, there was a rushing, roaring sound in my ears as my heart pounded, adrenaline firing through my system. I held as still as possible, trying to keep my breathing calm and even.

As they began to jostle me, pulling me from the car and carrying me between them, I discreetly slid out my knife.

I held it loosely in my hand, allowing them to carry the full weight of my body. Squinting, I could see the white SUV we'd just exited, and another man lagging behind them, probably the driver. We were in a large gravel parking lot, surrounded by a chain link fence. The sounds of a diesel truck were in the background, along with another man speaking Spanish, yelling at someone to drive the truck around back.

As they carried me towards a steel warehouse, big enough to house a couple small airplanes, I heard the labored breathing of Antonio and Carlos. My stomach clenched with nerves the closer we got to the door, my breathing now rapid and panicked.

I had to escape before we made it inside. Otherwise, I might not ever make it out. But I had to be calm and methodical. Panicked fighting only made you sloppy. And sloppy equaled death.

At each step towards the door, I forced myself to focus, mentally repeating the mantra Rook had taught me.I choose to be calm. I am safe because I know how to protect myself. I am in charge of my reality.

Finally, my heart rate slowed, a calm slowly infusing through me. I was focused and ready.

“You guys really need to work out more," I said before striking quickly, stabbing Carlos in the neck.

He gasped in surprise, dropping me. I used my hands to catch myself. Then I twisted my body, slamming my heel in Antonio's face.

Exhaling sharply, he let go of my feet. “Oh come on, Tatiana," he growled, grabbing his nose, which was bleeding. "Why it gotta be like this?"

Gritting my teeth, I slammed my heel into his junk, hard.

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