Before he could release a relieved sigh, the phone started buzzing, blowing up with incoming texts as the service came back on line.
The first message had been sent three hours ago, and when he absorbed the words, his heart stopped.Unknown: Your tie is crooked.It was a code phrase, designed to convey that something had gone terribly wrong. Only Tomas knew that code.
More texts followed, timed several minutes apart.Unknown: The escort took her.
Unknown: Kicked me out of the limo on an abandoned road and drove off with her.
Unknown: Hello?
Unknown: Answer the phone.
Unknown: I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop them. I was forced out of the limo at gunpoint.
Unknown: I don’t know where they took her.
Unknown: Are you getting this?
Unknown: Where are you?
Unknown: I’m tossing this phone. Will be in touch.Pain detonated in his chest, lungs, and throat. The roar of his heartbeat thrashed in his head, and terror paralyzed him, making it impossible to think.
The cartel had Vera.
She wasn’t safe.
They knew. They fucking knew he’d been playing them in an effort to rescue her. They were going to hang them both from meat hooks.
Silvia watched his reaction, studying him too closely, way too hard. He kept his expression in check, and in the next breath, he flipped a switch.
The calculating side of him took control, squashing all fear, wrath, and love. He extinguished every ounce of emotion and let the coldness creep in, numbing his limbs and deadening his heart. He blinked, drew a steady breath, and focused on the facts.
If his cover was blown, they would’ve killed Tomas. And Vera, too. Unless they kept her alive to use her as a hostage to question him.
Why would they question him if they knew he was the rescuer they’d been waiting for? Why had Silvia tried to fuck him just a moment ago?
There was no way the cartel knew he was part of a vigilante group or that their lives were targeted by such a group. The brothers simply wanted to retaliate against Tula Gomez, their father’s killer, and whomever she’d sent to save her sister.
If they truly knew Luke’s identity, he would’ve already been tortured and cut into pieces.
This was another game. A test. Maybe they suspected that he’d been sent for Vera, but they weren’t convinced enough to risk his backlash if they were wrong.
From their viewpoint, holding Vera as a hostage was forgivable. She was just a whore. Killing Luke’s assistant, however, was just plain bad for business.
So they let Tomas go, effectively removing Luke’s bodyguard from the property with no way to return.
The cartel didn’t know that during the hours that Tomas had been texting Luke, he would’ve found another phone—would’ve stolen one from a random stranger if necessary—and contacted their team.
The Freedom Fighters would’ve learned at least an hour or two ago that Luke was in trouble. They just had to find him.
But they had intel now. They had everything Tomas would’ve passed along.
Luke turned his attention to Silvia, taking his time to speak.
“Why?” Slowly, casually, he rose from the chair and pocketed the phone. “I paid for her. You received the money. Alejandro assured me that you honor your deals.”
“It’s just a technicality. A hiccup in the deal. I’m sure we can work it out.”
“Explain the hiccup.”
“I’ll show you. Follow me.” She pivoted and strode away, giving him no choice but to follow.CHAPTER 25As Silvia led Luke outside, a disarming chill saturated the air. Maybe it was just him. His skin rippled with the prickles of a cold sweat, and the drum of looming doom sounded in his ears.
Unarmed and without backup, he had to keep his wits about him. Maintaining his composure and talking his way out of this were his only lines of defense.
Unless his cover was already blown. In that case, he was a walking corpse.
She escorted him along a trail through the lush garden, her heels carefully maneuvering the cracks in the cobblestones. He considered making a break for it, his flight-or-fight instinct gripping him hard. He could outrun Silvia with ease, but he couldn’t escape the cameras and the armed guards.
Even if he could, he would never leave Vera. If she was even here.
The path led to a small pond encircled on all sides by dense trees. The moonless shroud of nightfall cast the water in inky black, the muddy edge occupied by half a dozen man-shaped silhouettes.
Nothing like walking into a waiting throng of armed, distrusting, coldblooded murderers. His anxiety surged into overdrive.
As he approached, he squinted through the darkness, searching for Vera’s small frame among them.
Marco, Omar… All four brothers were here, dressed in a range of suits and street clothes. A few others in the cartel accompanied them.
No Vera.
“Where is she?” Luke paused a few feet away and wiped his slick palms on his pants, trying to control his nerves.