“I want to feel him inside me, Marco.” She sidled up to her brother and cupped him between the legs. “I want to feel both of you at the same time.”
“Fucking insatiable.” He smacked her hand away. “Never happy. Look what we built for you.” He swung out an arm, indicating the estate. “We give you everything you want, and it’s never enough.”
“That’s not true.” She burst into Spanish, throwing around her hands.
Marco yelled back, getting in her face. Miguel and Omar joined in, and the dysfunctional family began to scream over one another.
Luke kept his eyes on the hedge shears in Marco’s grip. His blood ran cold at the thought of that thing going near him. And it would, as soon as they stopped arguing.
Think, goddammit.
What could he say to get out of this? What bargain could he make without revealing the existence of his team? Could he fabricate a believable story on the fly?
His ruse as a wealthy slave buyer had taken weeks to prepare, every detail memorized and thought out. If he changed his story now, they would know he was lying. Besides, anything he told them would only delay the inevitable. He couldn’t stall them for weeks.
As his captors continued to quarrel about which limb to remove first, the door opened.
They didn’t hear it.
His heart pounded at the sight of a gun, connected to an outstretched arm, the body out of view. Then the gunman stepped in.
Gunwoman.
He stopped breathing as Vera dragged an unfamiliar man in behind her and closed the door.
The room fell quiet. Every head turned. No one was breathing.
She aimed a Glock at Alejandro’s face, who had pulled his own gun the moment she came in.
He stood close enough to knock the weapon from her hand. But he wouldn’t. Because her other hand held a goddamn grenade. The pin was gone, her tiny fingers white-knuckled around the spoon. If she dropped it, they were all dead.
Luke scanned the room, confirming that only three people were armed. Alejandro, Vera, and the man she’d brought in.
What the fuck was she thinking? She was supposed to be gone and calling in backup. Goddamn her for not listening.
And God love her for showing up.
He should’ve known. This woman didn’t run. She fucking fought.
Rifles and ammo hung from her shoulders and hips. Beneath the heavy artillery, she wore a bulletproof vest. Her bare arms and neck showed multiple spider bites and signs of swelling. But there were no visible holes in the vest. No signs of gun wounds.
How had she made it in and out of the armory and all the way here without getting shot?
No matter. She was here, and he couldn’t have been prouder of her.
“I fucking told you she wasn’t dead,” Alejandro growled at his brothers.
“Easy, Vera.” Miguel didn’t move, his accent losing its smooth charisma. “Put the pin back in.”
“I dropped it outside.” She shrugged, rattling the rifles on her back. “Whoops.”
“Romero.” Marco glared at the skinny man at her side. “What are you doing?”
“She held me at gunpoint, jefe.” Romero gripped a huge phone, his gangly body weighed down by more guns and ammo belts than Luke could count. “She broke into my room and… I’m so sorry, jefe. She was going to kill me.”
Who was this kid? He didn’t look like a coldblooded cartel member.
“What did you do, Romero?” Marco asked dangerously.
With Alejandro’s gun trained on her, she returned the aim with her Glock. “He shut down the cameras and sent the coordinates of the compound to Restrepo. If you listen hard, you might hear the choppers overhead.”
Luke’s pulse burst into a sprint.
Except Matias only had one chopper in the States. Maybe she assumed there would be more? Or maybe she was lying through her teeth.
His anxiety reached an all-time high as she waved the weapon through the room and pointed it at Silvia.
Did she even know how to use a gun? Could she shoot accurately under pressure?
“Unshackle him.” Vera scowled at Silvia’s naked body. “So help me God, I’ll pump your skank ass full of lead, starting with your tits.”
“You’re not shooting anyone.” Miguel stepped forward.
She swung the Glock toward him. Until Omar called her name, and she turned the gun on him.
Luke’s mouth dried as he watched her finger bounce all over that trigger. With any luck, she wouldn’t shoot him.
“How did you get in here?” Omar asked. “Only the people in this room have access.”
“I used your sister’s key.”
“Then whose key…?” Silvia’s face paled, and she shot a deadly look at Luke. “Oh, my God. You swapped it on the veranda. That’s why I couldn’t get into my room tonight.”
“This is bullshit.” Omar charged toward Vera.
With one hand on the grenade, she adjusted the gun’s aim on him, let out a screech, and squeezed the trigger.
Nothing happened.
Omar froze, and the room went still.