"Got it."
I hung up and headed into the bathroom next to the interrogation room. Peeling off my blood-stained clothes and shoes, I shoved them into a plastic bag before turning on the shower.
Grabbing a bottle of soap, I washed away the last few remnants of Paul's body. While I'd at least found out something new, I wasn't sure it would give Catalina the answers she needed or bring her anywhere closer to her goal.
I slammed my fist against the tile.Damn it!
Running a hand through my hair, I tried to get my breathing under control.
It didn't matter if the information I'd beat out of Paul amounted to anything or not, because if it didn't, I'd just try a new angle.
Iwouldget this resolved for Catalina. There was no room for any other alternative.
After a few minutes, I turned off the shower, stepped out, and donned fresh clothes—a crisp black shirt and trousers—before slipping into clean shoes.
When I emerged, Carlos had already placed Paul's phone, keys, and wallet aside, awaiting the cleaning crew.
"What would you like me to do with his body?"
"Put him in the cremation chamber. Then make sure the bones and metal go into the acid. Leave nothing behind."
Carlos nodded.
I exited the building, slid into my car, and called Anthony, who was watching over the cameras I'd installed in front of Catalina's house.
But when he answered, his voice sounded panicked, urgent. "Marco, Catalina’s in trouble. A van just pulled up with eight men, maybe more. They're trying to break in."
No.
I floored the accelerator.
No.
The car shot forward, speeding down the road. I braked hard to turn, the tires screeching as I forced them through the movement.
No!
"Send my men to her address."
"Are you sure?—"
"Just fucking do it!" I roared. I hung up, my vision turning red.
The buildings blurred together as I sped to her house.
Please. Let me make it on time. Please let her be okay. Please. Please!
I begged someone, anyone, whatever deity might be listening. Because if one hair on her head was out of place, I'd burn this city to the ground.
I parked behind the van,blocking it in Catalina's driveway.
Pulling out my gun, I slowly crept up the path. There was no movement outside, nor inside the van. Catalina’s house was pitch black. Everything deathly silent.
My pulse thundered in my ears as I sprinted up the front steps. I popped open the keypad on her lock. They’d cut the wires, leaving the deadbolt as the only thing standing in between her and I. I pulled out my lock-picking set and got to work, my hands trembling with every movement.
I took a deep breath.Steady.
Picking a lock was an art form, something that required time. The complete opposite of what I wanted. I wanted to kick the door down, storm in, and getmywoman. But I didn't know the situation inside.
