Page 91 of Lethal Vengeance
“At first, no. The tattoos around it overlap the edges, but if you stare at it long enough, it becomes clear,” I explain. “What does it mean?”
He stares at me for a second. “You know my father was a drug lord, right? The jaguar with the crown was his mark. It was tattooed on us when we reached sixteen. When my brother took over, he added the circles to represent Camila, me, and him. He and I chose our numbers, but most of the members are assigned numbers based on a variety of factors.”
“Does this mean you’re in the cartel?”
“In the beginning, I had to be. Paulo needed support to take over my father’s role. But the life wasn’t for me. It was too restrictive,” he says. “Once he was firmly established, I left.”
“Where did you go? France?” I ask, thinking of his penchant for speaking the language.
He chuckles. “An organization in the US offered me a job overthrowing governments, and it sounded a hell of a lot better than going to university, so I accepted.”
Shocked, I stare at him in surprise. “The same organization Cruz worked for?”
A wry smile appears. “No, mine didn’t officially exist. Still doesn’t. Its sole purpose is to manipulate power in the world. To that end, we were sent all over the globe to make sure our preferred candidate was placed on the throne, so to speak. Turns out, the cartel is fantastic experience for that line of work.”
“Did you like it?” I ask, although the spark in his eye seems to indicate he did.
“For a long time, I did. Over time, the widespread devastation brought about by the changes in power got to be too much. When I found myself faced with the decision of rescuing a group of people or fanning the flames of the revolution, I realized I couldn’t do it anymore. I saved those people, then Zane and Marcos saved me,” he says with a shrug, but I can see the toll it took on him. He taps my nose. “Whenever I wasn’t on a job, I lived in France.”
I think about how his brother came to his rescue. “Are you and Paulo close? Now that you’re past the days of fighting on the playground,” I tease.
To my surprise, he has to think about it. “What we went through together created a bond between us that will be there for the rest of our lives. But we’re not close. Being the head of the cartel is a lonely job, but he seems to prefer it that way.” A trace of sadness lingers on his face.
“Well, if it hadn’t been for him, we wouldn’t have found you before everything went down. I know you probably would have escaped by then, but twenty-to-one, odds were not in your favor,” I gently remind him. “Paulo dropped everything and came without his guards. Pretty risky behavior for someone in his position.”
His brow furrows in thought.
“Although I’m the last one who should be giving sibling advice,” I say bitterly. The darkness threatens to pull me under, but I keep my focus on the moment and the men around me.
An arm snakes around my stomach and pulls me backward. “It’s too early to have deep conversations, especially without coffee,” Cruz grumbles from behind me. “Although waking up to you by my side certainly makes the day better.”
I stroke the arm around my stomach. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.”
Raider stretches and eases out of bed. “We have sixteen hours of driving ahead of us. I’m going to grab a shower.”
Cruz snuggles into my back. “Good. Wake me when you get out.”
After Raider leaves, we lie there quietly together. With Cruz, I don’t feel the need to fill the silence.
His hand slides back and forth across my stomach lazily stirring the desire simmering under the surface.
Raider walks back into the room wearing just a towel.
I inhale sharply. With the hard body behind me and the one in front, the temptation is too real and sharp.
“I’m next.” Scrambling out of bed, I beeline for the bathroom and shut the door. Thoughts of the two of them and me and the large king bed swirls around in my brain. I turn on the cold water.
* * *
Sixteen hours givesme plenty of time to dissect everything. The fights Sophia and I had when she was growing up. My determination to keep her on the straight and narrow. Her rebellion against me.
My mind jumps to Julio. At the time, I’d dismissed the words coming out of his mouth, even blocked most of them, but now I’d give anything to remember everything he’d said about Sophia. The one thing I do know—he never mentioned his brother. Not once did he tell me Armando killed her, not him.
We’re passing Tallahassee when a thought occurs. Rachel, Sophia’s best friend, had to have known. She never said a word when I spoke to her after Sophia disappeared, but those two were tight.
There’s only one tiny issue. Like the rest of the world, she thinks I’m dead.
Digging around in the duffle, I find my special phone. It’s one of the most secure phones on the market and the encryption is military grade. Tracing it requires access to military satellites and decryption software unavailable to most law enforcement.
