Or not . . .
The door left ajar to the loft heightens my senses, but when I hear sniffling inside, panic sets in. I push the door open to find Peyton rocking on the couch, holding a small box in her trembling hands. With quick steps, I cross the room to check on her. Her mouth opens, but instead of words, she sobs and drops the box on the table.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, surveying her from head to toe. Physically she appears to be fine.
Her body shakes violently as I sit next to her. She scoots away, her face ashen and frightened as she points to the box. “What did you do?” she screams, but I don’t understand. “Who are you?”
The child’s shoebox is heavier than I anticipate as I lift it. The stench of rotting flesh reaches my nostrils before I get a glimpse of what’s inside. I cover my nose with one hand and use the other to lift the lid. Fear consumes me, compressing my lungs as I expect the female hand to belong to Maria. Immediately, I seek out the small heart tattooed on Maria’s right hand between her thumb and index finger. Relief rushes out of me when I don’t find it. Peyton continues sobbing as I lift a small piece of paper from the box. I unfold it and read the note.
Mr. Hunter,
Cross me and this will be her hand.
E
Eduardo obviously didn’t believe that I no longer harbor feelings for Maria.
“They said they’d kill me. Who are those men?” Peyton screams, her words murky as my mind races with thoughts of murder. “How do they know who I am?”
“What did they say?”
Peyton blinks rapidly, but doesn’t speak. I curl my hands around her arms and give her a gentle shake. “What did they say?” I ask again with a firm tone.
She swallows, holding in a breath before she says, “They said if you cross Mr. Montez, the item in the box will belong to me.”
“Fuck!” I stand, fishing my phone from my pocket. With one ring, Sid answers. “I need protection detail . . . No, not for me . . . Send them to the loft and I’ll text you the details.”
I slip the phone into my pocket as I stare at Peyton with an overwhelming sense of protectiveness that confuses me. It’s more than a feeling of responsibility for dragging her into my fucked up life and putting her in danger. This woman has gotten under my skin with her playfulness and confidence and I don’t want anything to happen to her. The stress of my trip still weighs on me, and I have shit to do, but this woman fucking needs me.
Her wide eyes peer up at me and glow with a trepidation I somehow have to relieve. Like it or not, easing her fear is my responsibility. “I have some men coming to take you home. They work for me and they’ll stay with you until this is resolved.”
I nod, wanting her to nod too, so I know she’ll be okay, but she doesn’t. “Until what’s resolved? What did you do?”
Fuck, where would I even start to explain what the hell I’ve done. How would I go about telling her, I started a war with a cartel leader and she’s just another casualty? “I can’t tell you.”
“I’m calling the police,” she shouts, reaching for her cell phone.
“There’s nothing the police can do.” My large hand engulfs her small wrist. “I’ll protect you. You’re not in any danger.”
“Are you crazy? Those men came right into your home. They pushed me down and . . .” Her head turns to the side as all of her strength evaporates. The confident woman that barged into the loft a week ago is gone.
As much I wish I didn’t give a fuck, a fierce rage surges through me. “What did they do?” I ask firmly, kneeling beside her. She refuses to look at me, rubbing her arms and sucking in quick gasps of air. I glance down and notice a bruise on her inner thigh that I missed earlier. My teeth hurt as I grind them tightly together. “Did they . . .”
“No.” She shakes her head rapidly. “They would have,” she cries. “They were going to . . . but one of them got a phone call and they left. Two minutes later, you showed up. Tell me what the fuck you did god dammit! I’m scared.”
“You’re safe . . . I promise.”
“You don’t understand. Those men were . . . Oh, God.”
I sit next to her, fighting anger and the desire to go to Monterey and end all of this with one bullet to Eduardo’s head. If I thought I could get to him without getting myself killed, I’d do it. I try to smile to reassure Peyton, but I can’t force it as anger keeps my teeth gritted. “None of those men will ever lay a fucking finger on you. They only wanted to scare you.”
“They succeeded. Who is Mr. Montez?”
I sigh, leaning forward on my knees. “He runs the Torrente Cartel, and we have a business arrangement.”
“You’re a drug dealer?” she shrieks.
“No!” I lower my voice when she flinches. “No . . . I’m helping Mr. Montez with an investment. That’s all, but he doesn’t trust me. He doesn’t trust anyone. Intimidation is just how the cartels operate, but I swear you have nothing to worry about. This was a message and I promise I will take care of Mr. Montez.”