Geraldo Montilla. He had aged since the last time Laila had seen him, but he still had a commanding air.
When he set eyes on Valeria, he stopped. Stared. His face changed. Softened? Then he clapped his eyes on Jorge. His stoic expression almost melted into something she couldn’t fathom on a man like him.
It seemed tender.
The old man swallowed. “Is that—”
“Yes,” her sister snapped.
There was an undercurrent between them she didn’t understand.
“Can I hold him?” The old man’s voice sounded both shaky and scratchy.
When Valeria hesitated, Laila shook her head. They had a plan. They needed to stick to it. “Not yet. Where is Trees? I want proof of life.”
Montilla’s gaze fell on her and his dark eyes turned cold. “There is the bitch who helped steal my car. Why should I let you live?”
Laila’s fear swelled. Her heartbeat surged. “Because I am also the one who made this meeting with your grandson possible. Now where is Trees?”
The drug lord sent Valeria a surprised glance, then motioned to one of his thugs. “Bring him.”
Laila held her breath as the armed man filed out the door, taking another with him. Silence ensued, and time seemed to stretch into infinity as she waited. Finally, the door scraped open again and the armed goons dragged Trees in.
He was alive! But Laila’s relief was quickly tempered by the sight of him. She lifted a trembling hand to her mouth in shock.
Trees had a black eye nearly swollen shut, a busted lip, and a mottled contusion flaring at his temple. He stumbled in between the two guards, looking exhausted or disoriented. No, drugged. He’d been pumped full of something to keep him contained and he looked barely awake and upright. One shoulder hung awkwardly, as if it had been dislocated. He had cuts and bruises all up his muscled arms. His knuckles were torn and bloody. Somewhere along the way, he’d fought—hard.
When their eyes met, he suddenly jerked up and scowled. “Laila, you shouldn’t be here.”
She didn’t argue. He was wrong, but now wasn’t the time.
Instead, she turned to Hunter. By their previous agreement, he would do the talking from here. After all, Montilla was an old-school chauvinist. He wouldn’t take kindly to negotiating with her or her sister.
As Hunter approached, Montilla sized him up. “Mr. Edgington, I presume?”
Hunter nodded. “We’ve brought Victor Ramos. He’s nearby with guards, awaiting my instructions. After you’ve visited with your grandson, we’ll bring him to you. Then we will have fulfilled the terms of our agreement and you will return Mr. Scott.”
“Of course,” the old man returned smoothly. “I was promised fifteen minutes with Jorge first.” He turned to his armed guards. “Take Mr. Scott to the morgue in the basement until then. He will be unable to escape, and if he tries to shoot me again or Mr. Edgington reneges…well, he will already be in a morgue.”
Laila stiffened, and she whirled to Hunter. “If we cannot see him, they may continue to torture him.”
Hunter hesitated, then turned to Montilla. “I’m sending one of mine with one of yours to ensure Mr. Scott’s continued health.”
The old man shrugged as if he didn’t care, then motioned to one of his thugs, who grabbed Trees by his awkwardly dangling arm and tugged.
The agony that crossed Trees’s face made everything inside Laila twist with hate and rage.
Hunter also looked pissed off as he gestured to Matt. “Follow them.”
The cowboy nodded, and the three of them disappeared down a set of stairs on the far side of the room, into the darkness beyond the handful of portable lights EM Security had rigged for this meeting.
Then Montilla snapped his fingers. An armed goon produced a folding chair. The drug lord ambled to it and sat, then turned his attention to Valeria, his stare drilling into her. “Bring the boy to me.”
Her sister held Jorge tighter. “I did not say you could hold him. I said you could meet him.”
“He is my flesh and blood. I would never hurt him.”
“Merely kill his mother,” Valeria shot back.
“I can concede a child this young requires a mother. You will not be harmed. You have my word.”
“Forgive me if your word means very little to me.”
Montilla’s expression turned to thunder. “Bring me my son!”
Laila reared back. His son? The old man wasn’t senile. Had he actually fathered Jorge?
At her side, Valeria’s spine went even straighter. “After what you did to Emilo, the last person he needs as a father is you.”
Laila gaped at her sister. Jorge was truly Geraldo’s son?
“What did I do? I gave Emilo every advantage,” the old man growled. “Ungrateful, inept prick.”
Valeria scowled. “You indulged and corrupted him. He was a sniveling boy, playing at men’s cartel games. You turned him into a criminal, even as you undermined his every move. You ensured he could not lead without your permission, then you constantly told him that nothing he did was good enough.”
Fury twisted the old man’s face. “He was not fit to follow in my footsteps. His mother was weak, which she passed on to Emilo and his sister, Clara. Good riddance to them both. They were foolish enough to let their emotions overwhelm them. And they were both stupid enough to let themselves be killed by Pierce Walker. They got what they deserved. But this boy will be different. He belongs to me.”
Valeria clung to Jorge tighter. “He is mine. I gave birth to him.”
“I say now he is mine.” Montilla stood, rising to his full height. Suddenly, he looked a lot less injured and a lot more vital. “Once upon a time, you begged me to fuck you. Because you wanted a real man. Because you knew where the power in the cartel truly lay. This boy is my price.”
Valeria scoffed. “I only fucked you so my sister and I would be protected. I never expected to get pregnant.”
Laila blinked at her sister. Had she offered herself to Geraldo Montilla to buy their safety?
Montilla looked amused. “I did. That was my goal. Or will you try to convince me that Jorge is my son’s offspring?”
“He could be,” Valeria hedged.
“If that was so, you would not have run from my son in fear when you realized you were pregnant. But you fled because you feared he would be suspicious. And you knew he would have killed you for the truth. So you escaped with Colonel Edgington and his sons, leaving your younger sister without any help, ally, or hope for the future.” He tsked. “Not very sisterly of you.”
Valeria sent her the briefest glance filled with shame and apology, then she glared at Montilla. “I left so you could not corrupt or abuse my child. The world did not need another Emilo.”
As much as Laila felt shocked and betrayed by all her sister’s secrets, she couldn’t argue with Valeria’s conclusion. Laila had found ways of coping with life under the thumb of Victor and Hector Ramos in her brother-in-law’s compound. As a baby, Jorge would have been utterly vulnerable.
Montilla stalked closer to Valeria. “Give me my son.”