“That’s good.Keep going.”He checked the slide on the third handgun, snapped the mag into place, and holstered it to his chest.Then he snapped his sheathed knife onto his belt.
Marisol’s voice trembled through the earpiece.“She dropped her purse.I have it now.Rascón used his body to protect her from the shooting.He saved her life.”
Thank God for that.Enrique locked the weapons cabinet and shrugged his suit jacket on over the vest and weapons.Not that he gave a shit if anyone saw the tools of his trade.Let them see.Let them know and keep their distance.
As the woman rambled on, he stormed out of the penthouse and down the slow-as-fuck elevator to the underground garage.Sharp lights and deep shadows engulfed him as he ran to his muscle car, keys in hand.He threw the duffel in the passenger seat, slammed the door behind him, and cranked the engine.He peeled out, tires shrieking across the concrete.Two security guards jumped aside as he blew past the open gate and burst into daylight.The glare of the sun blinded him for only a second before he gunned the car down the street.
“The paramedics are loading your friend into the ambulance,” Marisol continued, her voice steadier.“I should put the phone back in his pocket and give the paramedics your wife’s purse.I’m not a thief.”
“Do me a favor, Marisol.Go with him.Stay at Rascón’s side until I can send someone to relieve you.I’ll pay you for your trouble.What hospital are they taking him to?”
She rattled off the name.“I couldn’t accept money, but I’ll go with him.He must mean a lot to you.”
Blistering shame raced through him.Despite how hard he tried to keep his subordinates beneath him, somehow, Rascón had become a friend.“Gracias, Marisol.I’m Enrique, by the way.Keep this phone with you.I’ll be in touch.”He tapped a button on the earpiece, ending the call, and smashed another one.“Call Rubén,” he instructed the device as he weaved between vehicles.
The call connected immediately.
“Are you seeing this?”Rubén barked as a news broadcast blared in the background.“Someone shot up the street outside the clinic.It’s all over the news.”
“Just got an eye-witness account from a woman who has Rascón’s phone.He’s shot, and Lourdes is gone.Kidnapped.Her tracker is heading north out of the city.Probably for the border.I’m on my way now.”
“Do not go off alone.Come to the hacienda.We’ll figure this shit out.”
“No fucking way, Rubén.You arrange things from there.Domingo has access to her tracker, so get him to help.Santi and Muniz, too.”
“Fuck.All right,” the jefe relented.“I’ll call Gimenez.His guys will reach you before we do.Hell, I might have to charter a helicopter.I’m not sitting this fight out.”
“Then you had better hurry.”Enrique ended the call, tossed the earpiece onto the dashboard, and blew past a red light.Horns honked from the cars screeching to a stop behind him.He had to reach her in time.Had to find her.Zayas was behind this.Nothing else made sense.
Please, God, protect Lourdes.Keep her alive,he prayed, having no right to beg for anything.With all the blood on his hands, the Holy Trinity had forsaken him long ago.God, Satan, he’d pray to the fucking Aztec gods as long as it saved Lourdes’s life.
To anyone listening, please help the woman I love.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lourdes moaned, awakeningfrom oblivion.
