Leon disappeared into another part of the warehouse. I use the time to take inventory and figure out a way to break free. I tug my hands apart, gritting my teeth. Shit. My wrists are bound, raw, and most likely bleeding where the plastic digs in. Fucking useless. My ankles, equally so. My brain can at least function now that the drugs are fading. But that also means the pain is coming. A dull roar already builds in my shoulders.
I push myself into a seated position against the leg of a nearby metal chair. It’s not comfortable, but I’d rather be sitting up than face down on the floor like a damn animal waiting forslaughter.
Think, Marlowe.
Leon is not my friend. That’s obvious now. But why? What does he want with Declan when this has always been about my father? The drug haze has lifted somewhat, but my brain is still sputtering.
Leon returns with a water bottle and a phone. He sees I’ve moved and raises an eyebrow.
“Impressive. Most people stay down longer.” He crouches in front of me and holds the water to my lips. “Drink. I need you coherent.”
I want to refuse becausefuck him.But my throat is sandpaper, so I drink.
“You have questions,” he says. “I can see them behind your eyes.”
“Then answer them.”
“I don’t owe you anything.” He settles back, quiet for a long stretch. He sighs. “But I guess it doesn’t matter now. You’re not leaving here except through your husband. He’s interfered with my business and now I’m going to collect.”
“Your business?” I ask, giving my head a confused shake. “You’re in finance. How would Declan interfere with your business?”
Something flickers in his eyes. Surprise, maybe. “Because while I am technically in ‘finance,’ I have one primary client. And now everything, including my life, is on the chopping block because he fucking interfered with my plans.”
My mouth drops open. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m saying that I’m not the person you think I am.” His eyes glitter with ice and anger.
“T-then w-who are you?” I say in a breathless whisper, trying like hell to process what I’m hearing. Because Leon is a wealthy financier who dabbles in socialcircles around the arts. That’s how we met in the first place. He’s cultured. Educated. We’re cut from the same cloth.
Or are we?
“Leon Fuentes. Garcia was easier. A more forgettable name. The alias I work under. Garcia is the kind of name that lets you move through donor galas without anyone looking too hard.”
“Fuentes,” I repeat. Why does that name sound familiar to me? Maybe it doesn’t. Maybe it’s just the drugs making me think that. But I don’t think so. I think I’ve heard it before.
“My father runs the Roja Cartel.” He laughs bitterly. “But I’m not good enough for his business. Never was. So I work for the Cinco Cartel instead. Moving and laundering money. Facilitating deals. Keeping my head down and doing what I’m told.” He shrugs. “I guess in very loose terms, you could say it’s a flavor of finance.”
“Jesus,” I mutter. Cartels. Cinco. Roja. Names I’ve heard whispered. By Declan. By his brothers. Connected to violence and drugs and things that live in dark, dangerous shadows.
“I don’t understand,” I say. “Why would you lie to me about who you really are? You said you’d help me find my dad. I trusted you.”
Leon stops pacing. His whole body goes tense, eyes narrowing to slits.
“Newsflash. Your dear daddy liked to gamble. Big time. Dog fights, boxing matches, anything with blood and odds.” His voice hardens to stone. “But he wasn’t very good at it. And when you’re bad at gambling, you borrow. When you borrow from Cinco, you’d better be prepared to pay. Or you run for your life because if they find you, they’ll take it. No questions asked.”
Oh my God…Daddy…how the hell could you do something so fucking stupid?
“Did he…run away?”
Leon gives a swift nod. “Liquidated what he could without your mother noticing, scattered it across offshore accounts, and fucking vanished.” His face twists. “Left behind his wife. His company. His precious ballerina daughter. Because Heston Briggs loves Heston Briggs more than he loves anyone else.”
The words hit like a machete to my chest.
I want to defend him. I know my father loves me. But if this is really true…
A sudden flash of anger roars through my insides. My heart clenches tight, and I nearly choke on my thudding pulse.
He hasn’t reached out at all to make sure I’m okay. He left me and Mom here all alone with those cartel thugs circling like vultures because of something he did, and he’s out there somewhere, protecting his ass.
