Darkness Embraced (Hades Hangmen 7)

Finally, my hand rested over his heart. “It’s beating so fast,” I whispered.

“You’re trying to leave me,” Tanner bit, and yanked at his arms. “You can’t fucking leave me, baby. Please . . .” When Tanner’s voice grew hoarse with emotion, it ruined me. But I kept pushing through. My eyes misted and blurred my vision. But I didn’t fight it. With every word spoken, I was losing a piece of my soul. I doubted any of it would be with me when I left.

Tanner would own it all. As I wished.

I cupped his face and made sure he met my eyes. I pushed past the agony I saw reflected in their depths, to say, “I dream that one day, in another life, we might find one another again.” Tanner’s face contorted with pain. I stroked the lines from his forehead.

“Lita . . .”

“I dream that we meet each other in some distant future and recognize one another’s souls. And we’ll be found.” I envisioned the scene in my head. “Just you and me. No prejudices or hatred would be a part of our lives. No one would disagree with our union. Culture or skin color would not even be a factor.” I smiled. “You would simply love me, and I would simply love you.” I felt like I could physically feel my heart tearing into shreds as I shared my hopes. “But this life doesn’t hold that dream for us, mi amor.” I shook my head. “It has always been a fight.” I dropped my forehead to his and watched as a tear fell from the corner of his eye. I couldn’t bear the sight. I couldn’t bear to see this strong man, the man I loved with my entire heart, so hurt. “It has to be this way, baby. I must stop the pain. I have to try to make things better for everyone.”

Tanner pulled back. “No!” he bit and thrashed on the bed. I saw the cable tie on his left hand strain. “If you go back to Mexico, they’ll fucking kill you!” He spoke fast. Urgently. “Diego won’t forgive you for running back to me at the exchange. Your father will kill you for being with me, period. It isn’t safe, baby.” He sucked in a breath. “It’s a fucking suicide mission. You’re going back to die.”

I knew that. I was prepared for it . . . but there was no other way. Tanner must have seen the resolution in my face because he roared, “No! I won’t let you go! I’ll come after you. You won’t make it anywhere close to Mexico.” I lifted the needle, and Tanner’s face paled. “Lita, no . . . no, baby . . . do not fucking do this!” His voice cut off and he lost all strength. “I can’t . . . I can’t fucking do this without you.” His head shook. “This life . . . all this freedom . . . it means fuck all if I don’t have you.”

I leaned down and kissed his forehead. “You will live, Tanner Ayers. You are strong, and you will love again.”

Tanner fought so hard against the restraints, I worried I had left things too late. Taking the needle, I pushed it into his neck and saw him immediately weaken. His blue eyes locked on mine as I saw him fighting against the pull of the drug. It was the one Edge had used on me when they took me from Mexico.

Cupping Tanner’s face, I kissed him on the lips and said, “I do not regret a thing. Not a single thing. If I knew all I would get in a lifetime were these few stolen moments with you, I would take the pain and hurt all over again. I’d do it over and over, and over again.”

Tanner made a pained noise, but his eyes started to close. I stayed with him, stroking his cheek until he was out. A pained sob slipped from my throat. I let the devastation consume me for a few minutes, until I pulled myself together. Leaving the room, I walked out into the night air. I heard the men in the bar, drunk and lost to mourning a fallen brother. I had counted on them being inebriated.

Walking to the forest that surrounded the compound like a shield, I sank into the depth of the trees and was quickly lost from view by the thick covering of foliage. I followed the dirt path for over an hour. I lost track of time after that, just kept heading south until I came to a break in the fence. A road lay beyond. I was numb, forcing myself to block out any feelings I had about leaving Tanner behind. Of seeing Diego and my papa again.

The minute I stepped out onto the pitch-black road, low lights from a waiting car glared, and the car came toward me. The back door opened, and I slipped inside. Two of Diego’s guards were in the front seats. They had guns at the ready, and their eyes scanned the forest.

“No one is coming,” I said, slipping back into Spanish. “This isn’t a trap.”

They clearly didn’t believe me, and drove slowly, checking for an ambush. When we were away from the compound and taking back roads to Lord knew where, they kept their focus on the rearview mirror, I assumed for any sign of attack.

Closing my eyes, I wrapped my arms around my waist. I found I couldn’t breathe when I thought of Tanner, and leaving him behind. Of him begging me not to go.

I rubbed at my chest and tried to stave off the panic I felt building inside me. And I fought it as we arrived on a rural airfield and took my father’s private plane back to Mexico. As the plane soared into the sky, dawn began to break. The sky boasted a vibrant pink painting. I stared at the Texan ground below me and prayed, with everything I had, that Tanner would one day find happiness. And that one day again, in the next life or beyond, we would find each other again.

*****

I stared at the hacienda and had to fight my hands from shaking. I didn’t know what awaited me beyond the familiar wooden doors. But I wasn’t the woman who had left. I was coming back with knowledge of my father and ex-fiancé that I would never have previously believed.

The car came to a halt, and the guard who’d picked me up opened the door. I climbed out and made my way up the stairs. When I went inside, the foyer seemed cold and barren. And I now knew this was a house built on the pain and suffering of innocent women. On their loss of freedom and blood.

Carmen came rushing from the direction of my suites. The woman who had taken care of me since I was a child threw her arms around me and held me tightly. I held her back. “Adelita,” she whispered, and I saw relief on her face. “Come. Let us get you cleaned up and out of these clothes.” I glanced down at my black jeans, boots, and the Hangmen tank Beauty had given me. I felt a sudden urge to push Carmen away.

“I am going to see my father.” I headed in the direction in his office. Carmen stood in my path, face flustered.

“No, Lita. He has insisted you be cleaned and rested after your ordeal. He will visit you when his business is done.”

Pure anger ripped through me, and I pushed aro

und Carmen, determination in my step. I marched to my father’s office. I didn’t bother knocking, simply pushed the door open and walked inside.

My father sat behind his desk. Diego sat in the opposite seat. At my entrance, they both spun around. Annoyance drifted across my father’s face until he saw it was me. Then his eyes absorbed what I was wearing. His face wore an angry expression. “I told Carmen to make sure you were to rest before I came to see you.”

“Tell me it isn’t true,” I demanded, working hard to stop my voice from shaking. My father’s head tilted to the side. As he sat before me, I felt like I was staring down a stranger. “Tell me it isn’t true.”

“What isn’t true?”

“The women,” I said, my voice losing strength. “The women and young girls you steal and sell to men for sex. To be slaves and God knows what else.”

My father was good. I knew there were years of schooling his expression—to enemies and business partners—that made sure his face remained neutral. But I was his daughter. And I saw, by a flash in his eyes, that it was true. It was all true. I knew this, of course. But to witness the lack of guilt in his eyes, eyes I had admired all my life . . . it was like taking a hammer to my heart.

“Why?” I whispered.

Papa changed in an instant. The ruse was gone, and he collapsed back in his chair. This was Alfonso Quintana. This was the man, the face people saw before he had them killed . . . before he raped them. This was the man who took Saffie over and over again. “It’s business.” He sighed. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“I wouldn’t understand?” I laughed at the assumed naivety. “What wouldn’t I understand?” My voice raised a notch in volume. Adrenaline fueled my every move. “I wouldn’t understand that you kidnap women from their vacations or from vulnerable situations? Children, that you kidnap, buy, and sell into slavery?” I stepped forward and made sure I was looking directly into his eyes as I said, “And wouldn’t I understand that you requested young girls to fuck while visiting your slave camps and forced them to endure you taking them against their will? Children. Fucking children!” My chest rose and fell with the anger that was pumping through my muscles. My father’s face reddened. I had never spoken to him this way. I had never disobeyed him. Never even cursed in front of him. Silence thickened the air. “When?” I demanded. “When did this start? How long have you been trafficking women?”