The remaining guard leans against the wall near the door, rifle hanging lazily from one shoulder.
My wrists ache behind my back as I start pacing the narrow space, the ridged steel floor cold beneath my bare feet. ‘You could untie me,’ I say quietly, turning towards the guard. ‘It’s not like I can go anywhere.’
He snorts. ‘As if, princesa.’
I hold his gaze. ‘You’re scared of me?’
He laughs then, a rough, barking sound. ‘Of you?’ He shakes his head. ‘No.’ His eyes flick briefly to the door. ‘Of him.’
My chest tightens. The muffled sound of voices echoes in the distance, but they’re too low to make out what they’re saying. The air inside the container grows thick and stale, every breath echoing softly against the metal walls.
The guard pushes himself off the wall slowly and steps closer to me, lifting the rifle slightly.
Then a single gunshot splits through the silence.
52
DOMINIC
We reach the warehouse before nine a.m. I’m out of the BMW before the engine dies. Rage is the only thing keeping me upright.
She’s close.
I feel it with every fibre of my being.
Frankie catches my arm before I reach the entrance. ‘You lose your head now,’ he murmurs quietly, ‘and you lose her.’
I wrench free, but I slow just enough to let him walk beside me. Behind us, my brothers fall into formation. Ciaran, then Cathal. Owen. Tristan. And even Kai, who returned with Frankie, but went straight to Mama K’s place, while Frankie came to ours.
The whole fucking family shouldered together forming a united front.
Cruz won’t be expecting Frankie. It’s given us an edge. We’re all armed. Pistols. Knives. Bulletproof vests beneath our suits. We stalk inside the warehouse like one single military unit. I’ve been here a hundred times before—shipments, deals, quiet meetings that never officially happened. I know the place like the back of my hand.
My shoes thwack off the concrete floor to where Santiago Cruz waits in the centre of the warehouse. His men are spread around him, each of them armed with glocks. And his fucking sister.
He smiles as we approach—warm. Friendly even. Like he hasn’t got my wife tied up somewhere in this building. But I don’t miss the way his eyes dart to Frankie. A flicker of surprise registers but he blinks it away.
‘Dominic,’ he says smoothly. ‘Good of you to come so swiftly.’
My jaw tightens. ‘Where is my wife?’
‘Straight to business,’ he sighs, eyeing each of us in turn. ‘I respect that.’
Frankie steps slightly forward beside me. ‘You kidnapped a Kincaid,’ Frankie says calmly. ‘You’re lucky we’re talking at all.’
Cruz shrugs lightly. ‘If Dominic had agreed to push the heroin for us,’ he says, ‘we wouldn’t have needed to involve Mr Kavanagh. You wouldn’t have stolen my stock. And your wife wouldn’t be cooped up in a cosy container with one of my men.’
Rage ripples through my chest. ‘I made our stance on heroin crystal fucking clear,’ I spit.
‘Which is why I had no choice but to go behind your back and partner with Kavanagh,’ Cruz says casually. ‘The women were his contribution. A lucrative sweetener.’
My fists clench. ‘I want to see my wife. Now.’
Cruz gestures lazily across the warehouse to a metal container. My blood boils to molten lava in my veins. ‘You’ll get her,’ he says. ‘When I get my merchandise.’
Ciaran nudges the crate forward with his boot. Inside are bricks wrapped in identical packaging to the heroin we destroyed.
Cruz nods at two of his men. ‘Check it.’
