“I don’t need my husband to solve all my problems,” I huff, knowing I’m being a prideful idiot even as I say it.
“This is a family problem,” Monroe points out carefully. The man is competent and strong, but I know Lachlan threatened to reduce our entire security staff to - as he said - “An ocean of blood,” if anything happened to me.
“I’ll take this in the back,” I sigh as my phone goes off again.
Chapter Thirty-Two
In which Juan Alonso is such a manipulative asshole.
Lachlan…
“She fecking didwhat?”
“Boss, she slid out the back door while I was waiting for her in the hall. There was no indication, no hint that-” Gregor sounds resigned, like he knows I’m going to tear his head from his body when I see him.
“Where is she now?” I ask, pinching the bridge of my nose with my thumb and forefinger. The storm outside is picking up, and snow is battering the hotel. It doesn’t matter how much I threaten Captain Steve, we can’t take off in this storm.
“When we spoke, she was about two hours from Cartagena,” he says. “I can put together a team of thirty men and charter a jet to chase her down, but she’s got an eleven-hour head start. The thing is…” Gregor hesitates.
“The thing is, we both know that we can have thirty men or three hundred, but the chances of breaching the Alonso cartel compound are about as good as me getting hit by a meteor right now.”
Gritting my teeth, I count to ten. “Get moving. I’ll fly directly from here as soon as the storm slows down enough. Find Aria and keep her surrounded. Do not, under any circumstances, allow her to attempt a rescue for Elana, do you hear me? Keep my wife safe.”
“I will,” Gregor promises, voice heavy with regret before I disconnect the call.
Gripping my phone in one fist, I fight my desire to hurl it across the room. My phone survives, but the crystal glass I’ve been drinking from is not as lucky. My shoulders tighten as it shatters against the wall.
Fucking Juan Alonso. What is his game? Juan didn’t get Elana to sneak away from her family because he’s madly in love with her. I know he’s not operating under Daddy’s orders. Pedro Alonso would insist on a huge wedding, so he could rub his triumph in the King’s faces.
All my pleasure at watching the brutal finish to the Petrov Bratva has disappeared. The image of Aria in the clutches of the Alonso cartel - and in the city they control - is the only thing I can see.
***
Aria…
“Miss King, we’re five minutes from landing if you’ll take your seat?” Keith, our flight attendant, gives me an encouraging smile.
“Thank you. Please notify the captain to refuel the jet immediately, and stand by. Do not leave the airfield, I’m leaving two guards here with you. We don’t know what to expect here.”
Keith’s been through more than one spooky episode with us, so he merely smiles and nods. “We’ll be here. Good luck.”
Monroe is methodically strapping on his weapons as we land, my other nine guards are doing the same. There’s none of the usual joking they make when we’re heading out on a mission. Everyone knows we’re outnumbered and outgunned here.
If I can’t convince Juan to let my sister go, I don’t know what we’re going to do.
“How close?” Monroe’s looking over my shoulder at my phone screen, watching the progress as we get closer to the little red dot that represents Elana.
“A couple of meters,” I murmur, watching us draw closer. “The only good news is that they’re not in the compound. Based on the neighborhood, it must be a private residence.”
There’s a high iron fence in front of the stucco mansion where my tracker tells me Elana is being held. It’s a massive house with a tile roof, bristling with gunmen walking the grounds and four more guarding the gate.
The one who approaches us holds his submachine gun loosely, his index finger lightly tapping the trigger. His eyes are red and I’m pretty sure he’s been dipping into his boss’s product.
That’s sloppy. Bad for business.
“¿Qué deseas?What do you want?”
“Hola,” I say, smiling in what I hope is a non-threatening way.“Estamos aquí para ver al señor Juan Alonso.We’re here to see Juan Alonso.”
