Chapter Twenty-Three
Dios sálvame,Lourdes prayed and swallowed as much as the meaty arm squeezing her windpipe allowed.Her heart thrashed against her ribs like a trapped bird.Through sheer will, she steadied her knocking knees and gripped Diego’s arm in a fruitless effort to pull it back.The remote-controlled explosives strapped to her chest weighed more than a bulldozer mowing her down.Nauseous and fighting to keep from passing out in terror, she squinted against the blinding sun and the dust stinging her eyes.Long shadows spilled across the earth as though to drag her into the abyss.
Five vehicles spanned the desert with Enrique’s beloved car, now scratched from its trek across the rocky ground, at the forefront.He stood behind it, gun raised.
A marble bust had nothing on his pinched face.Eyes colder than glaciers, he was calm.Controlled.Heartless.The second-in-command cartel leader he kept hidden from her.But she knew him better than that.Beneath the ice brewed fiery rage.Shame and desperation.All masked under years of training.
“Zayas,” Enrique called, his voice sharper than ever.“Look around.You’re outnumbered.This is over.Let her go.”
“Over?Bullshit.We’re just getting started.I have the best bargaining chip in the world.”Diego raised his hand, showing off the remote.“Guns on the ground.You and the boys might get itchy trigger fingers.”
“Kill her, you’ll kill yourself,” Enrique snapped at him.
“And I’ll take you with me.”
“You really are fucking crazy.”
“Damn right, you arrogant ass.”He squeezed her tighter against him as though he thought his bulletproof vest would protect him from the explosive packs.“You want this bitch to live?Do as I say.Throw down your gun.Knives, too.I know you got some,El Tajador,” he mocked.“I don’t want to see a fucking weapon anywhere near you.”
Lourdes blinked away a sheen of tears.Just a few short hours earlier, she had joked with Rascón about her husband’s alias.Now, she needed The Cutter to save her life.
Enrique tossed his handgun and his black knife over the hood of his car.
Fresh anger flooded her veins as the weapons thudded on impact.Enough manipulation.Enough fear.She wasn’t a weak, helpless woman Diego could exploit.As Enrique’s tatted, scowling comrades followed his lead, she eyed the gleaming guns and knives scattered around the impromptu arena.
Chuckling, Diego loosened his grip around her throat just enough so that she sucked in great mouthfuls of air.He clicked his tongue.“What a shame.You guys once answered to me.Would have done anything for me.Are you my replacement, Gimenez?”
She craned her neck to follow Diego’s line of sight to a short, muscled man who would probably have light sunburn on his bald head before the fight was through.
“You said it,” Gimenez replied with a sneer.“The Nogales plaza, the shipping network, the prestige—now mine.Only a fool would give that up.”
Diego snorted, rolled his eyes, and faced Enrique again.“Keys, Briceño.We’re leaving.If anyone tries to follow, I’ll press this button.”He waved the device beside her head and pushed her a few steps forward.
Lourdes grimaced, plodding along.Diego’s chest heaved against her.His rank breath skirted one side of her face and shot another wave of nausea through her middle.
“How about a trade?”Enrique raised his hand, palm out.“Take me instead.”
Diego barked a harsh laugh.“I don’t fuck men.”
“And I don’t fuck assholes,” she muttered, shuddering in repugnance.
Enrique shifted his scowl to her captor’s henchmen.“You swore an oath to the Lozano Cartel to follow the jefe.Yet here you are, assisting a walking dead man in using an innocent woman as a bomber.Mywoman.What did he promise you?Money?Power?”
