Shadow looked at an invisible watch on his naked wrist. “I’d say pretty fucking quick. Tomorrow’s off-loading day. Cargo goes to auction. Busy. Men are occupied. It’s our best chance, or we’ll have to wait another week.”
Cargo. Bitches. As long as one of them wasn’t Sia, I didn’t give a shit.
“I’ve been schooled on the ones we’re getting out. I got an idea where they’ll be.” Shadow smiled. “It’ll be a fucking breeze.” He raised one eyebrow. “But there’ll be killing, right?”
“Right,” Ky confirmed, voice thick with rage.
Shadow smiled again. “Exactly what I wanted to hear.”
Chapter Eleven
Sia
I heard the gunshot at the same time Cowboy did. Hush was still on the bed, his eyes beginning to roll. “Cowboy!” I called, heart slamming in my chest, as I glanced out of the window Cowboy stood at. I saw lights in the distance . . . and my barn was lit up.
A pained noise came from the direction of the bed. Hush’s body started jerking. “The seizure,” I said breathlessly. I moved to roll Hush onto his side like I had seen Cowboy do before. Cowboy ran to my dresser and picked up his gun.
“Hide him!” he instructed. I put my palm on Hush’s sweaty head. He was trembling, his arms and legs jerking with the strength of his seizure. Hearing another gunshot, I tried to pick him up. He was too tall. Too heavy.
“I can’t!” I cried, and Cowboy edged away from the window. He put the gun in his belt and lifted Hush up. I chased after him. “The storm latch!” I said and led him downstairs. I lifted the secret hatch in the floor of the closet.
Cowboy looked at me. “We need to get in too.”
I nodded, readying to follow, as Cowboy lowered Hush into the small space that was built into the house years ago. It wasn’t visible. It had always made me feel safe, knowing I had a place to hide.
Cowboy gave me his hand, his blue eyes frantic. “Come on!” he urged. I took his hand . . . but my fingers slipped through his when I heard another gunshot, then the horrific sound of a horse in pain. I whipped my head in the direction of the front door, my heart falling. “Sandy . . .” I whispered, just as another shot fired. The same heartbreaking cry from a horse rang out, and then . . . “No . . . Clara’s out there . . .”
Before I knew it, my legs were running for the door. “Sia!” Cowboy shouted behind me. But I couldn’t stop. Clara was in the stalls. She was working late for me tonight. I burst from the front door and sprinted over the fields. I heard the front door open behind me, Cowboy calling my name. But I couldn’t stop. Teardrops from my eyes caught in the wind and sailed to the south.
I saw movement from the stalls. I saw men walking along the length of the barn, shot after shot firing like they were piercing bullets into my heart. My horses . . . the creatures that kept me sane . . . kept me safe . . .
Someone emerged from the front of the barn. He was dark-haired, with tan skin. Mexican, I thought. My legs trembled, making me trip. He looked up . . . and a smile grew on his lips.
“Clara!” I shouted. He’d seen me. There was no need for silence. They had come for me. I knew my days had been numbered. “Clara!” I screamed again . . . and then shuddered to a halt.
“Sia,” a familiar voice said in greeting. I turned my head to see Pablo, Juan’s right-hand man, coming out of a blacked-out van.
A shot rang out behind me. I flinched, and then whipped around to see Cowboy firing at the men coming from the barn. Cowboy caught up with me and grabbed me by my arm. Men closed in around us. I narrowed my eyes, peering into the barn. A sob ripped from my throat when I saw pools of blood forming rivulets on the concrete floor.
“No!” I shouted, legs buckling as they gave way on the grass.
Pablo checked his cufflinks, like he didn’t have a care in the world. He flicked a hand at some of his men. “Take her.” Cowboy picked me up and pulled me to his chest.
“She’s not going anywhere.” He aimed his gun at the approaching men.
“Cowboy.” I ghosted my finger over his arm. “Don’t.”
“I got this, cher.”
“No,” I said. “They’ll kill you. There are too many.” As the last of those words left my mouth, a dull thud came from behind us. Cowboy’s heavy body toppled, dragging me to the floor with him. I scrambled from underneath his arm. Cowboy was out cold. I wrapped my arm around him. Pablo came to stand beside us.
“Where’s the other one?”
My pulse raced and my stomach fell. Hush. He was talking about Hush. “He left.”
Pablo’s eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that?”
“It’s true.”
Pablo clicked his finger at one of his men. “Search the house. If he’s there, get him and follow behind. Black guy.” He smirked. “Shouldn’t be too hard to spot.” He looked at another. “Get these two in the van. We’re leaving.”
“Clara?” I asked, my soul screaming at me because it already knew.
Pablo bent down. His eyes skimmed over my face and body. “You look better older,” he said in English. His lips kicked up at the side. “Juan will like that. He doesn’t tolerate women aging disgracefully.” He stood, then, looking at me over his shoulder, said, “If you’re referring to your little friend . . .” He paused, leaving my breath suspended like his words. “She’s dead.” He shook his head. “Silly whore thought she could pull a shotgun on us. Accusing us of being ranch invaders . . . whatever they are.” He tutted. “She should know the cartel if she sees us. People in Mexico would never mistake the Quintana family for common criminals.”
“So you killed her?” I whispered, nausea fighting its way up my throat.
“I’ve killed for less.”
Hands grabbed me and dragged me from Cowboy. I fought and fought them until a fist swiped across my face. I tried to keep consciousness, but when the second blow came, it was useless. The last thing I remembered seeing was Cowboy being dragged behind me . . . and a light in the house, with shadows searching for the second part of my heart.
Please, I found myself begging Hades of all people. Don’t let them find him. He’s been through enough. And as the van door shut and darkness engulfed me, I added, Ky . . . please let Ky find us again.
*****
I opened my eyes, bright sunlight making me squint. My head ached, my jaw throbbing as if I had been hit. I tried to push the fog from my brain. Visions and images came crashing to my mind like a film reel coming loose at a drive-in movie. Hush . . . Clara . . . horses . . . Pablo . . . Garcia . . . Garcia . . .. Garcia . . .
I shot up from whatever I was lying on. My head whipped around
the room. White walls, white tiled floors, and a familiar white bed.
My hand hit my chest. I fought for breath. My lungs were failing to receive the memo that I needed air. My palms fell forward and hit the mattress. The smell of sandalwood.
Juan . . .
I moved off the bed, wincing at a pain in my arm. I glanced down and saw a pinprick on my bicep. Drugs. I had been drugged. Then my eyes traveled south.
I choked on a desperate cry. Red. I was dressed in a red dress. “I like you in red, bella,” Juan said on our first date. “You were wearing a red bikini on the beach. It was what drew me to you.” He smiled and toyed with the strap of my dress. “Red is the color of a confident woman. I don’t see too many of those in my line of work.” He leaned in and kissed me, stealing my breath. When he pulled away, he said, “I have become quite mesmerized by you, mi rosa negra.” He kissed me again. He smiled against my lips. “I think I will always keep you in red.”
I clawed at the straps. I had just moved them down my arm when a door opened behind me. I froze, my eyes locked on a painting on the wall, of a villa somewhere in the Mexican countryside. The door shut, and as the footsteps came closer, I knew they’d belong to a pair of Prada shoes, shined to perfection. I knew the man in them would be six-foot-four, have a thick crop of dark hair, and have the most handsome eyes and smile I’d ever seen.
And I knew that man was the devil incarnate.
The bed dipped, and I froze. I didn’t even blink as I felt warm breath drift over my shoulder. As I smelled sandalwood . . . and as hands took the straps that were hanging down my arms and lifted them back to my shoulders.
I began to shake, one limb at a time. Wherever he touched became a mass of shivers, my strength buckling in his heavy presence. “Bella,” he whispered. I closed my eyes. The voice that had haunted my nightmares for years was suddenly alive. “You still smell the same.” He ran his stubbled cheeks along the back of my neck. Every hair I had stood on end.