Inked in Lies (The Fallen Men 5)

The harsh light in the hallway stabbed my corneas, and I squeezed my eyes shut on a low moan. My head lolled against the back of the man carrying me, jarring me in and out of consciousness.

“Ah, Greg,” Javier’s voice called out from somewhere in the room we ended up in. “Gracias. Put her in the chair, please.”

He dropped me in a deep leather chair, jostling my sore bones so much I cried out. When I righted myself, my eyes snagged on Javier sitting like a commander in what looked like a boat captain’s office, maps tacked to the wall behind him, instruments piled on the desk before her. He was watching me, eyes tagging every single imperfection on my skin like a body scanner even though his face remained implacable.

When Javier next spoke, his voice was soft, sweet in a way that chilled me. “Greg, did you hit this woman?”

Greg shifted on his feet beside me as I lolled my head against the seat back to watch him. He was tall and lanky as if he’d never quite grown into his body, and he shifted nervously from a lifetime of working for people who were cruel in their disappointment.

“Yes, boss,” he admitted, wringing his hand. “She acted up when I tried to get her.”

“Ah,” Javier nodded sagely as if he was at peace with the explanation.

One moment, he was seated behind a desk strewn with nautical equipment, and the next he was standing, his arm raised to level a gun at Greg.

The sharp crack of a discharged gun rattled through my eardrums.

A moment later, Greg, mouth open in horror, fell at my feet like a sack of rocks. A red ribbon of blood poured from the hole in his forehead, curling to the floor beneath him.

I blinked up at Javier in shock.

He smiled kindly at me, almost paternal in his affection, as he dropped the hot gun to the table and rounded it to lean on the front and stare at me.

“I’m sorry he hit you,” he said softly. “I’m sorry you’re here at all.”

The leftover drugs in my system and the impact of being without food or water for so long left my brain underpowered to deal with the overwhelming nature of the situation. I wanted to cry, curl up in the fetal position, and wait for Nova to come save me.

Only, I had no idea where I was or how long I’d been there.

And I knew there wasn’t much hope for that.

That it was up to me to get through this.

So I sat straighter in my chair and addressed him. “If you were really sorry, I wouldn’t be here at all.”

His smile was almost proud as he responded in Spanish. “Yes, yes, too true. Which is why I plan to let you leave.”

I gaped at him, prompting him to release a self-satisfied chuckle.

He was a dramatic man who enjoyed his power.

He was loving this.

“Why would you let me go?” I demanded as there was a knock at the door.

“Come in,” Javier called.

“Boss, just wanted to let you know the cops found your wife trussed up and beaten in her room at home. You want one’a them to bring her in?” The voice was familiar, a shiver racing up my spine.

Javier went from jovial, jocular uncle to cruel drug lord in a heartbeat. I watched as he sucked on his teeth and cracked his neck, as if the urge to attack someone was in his blood and hard to beat.

“Yes,” he agreed after gathering control of himself. “Have her brought here.”

“She’s already en route, should be ten minutes until the boat gets here.”

“Oh, Piston,” Javier called before the door shut. “Come here. It’s been a while since you saw Ellie’s daughter, hasn’t it?”

I froze, my heartbeat stopping, my breath arrested in my throat.

There was a soft thud as feet crossed the carpet, and then the man was in front of me, smiling through his beard.

It was the biker.

The one who had tried to take Ellie and I away when I was six, the one who had chased me through the forest days ago.

I shrank back into my chair away from him before I could curb the impulse.

Javier laughed as he clapped the leather clad biker on the back in friendly comradery. “Thank you, Piston, that’s enough for now.”

Piston nodded, hesitating as he looked me over again, then plodded out the door.

“What the fuck?” I breathed as Javier just stood there smiling at me.

He clapped his hands together. “Yes, excellent question. You see, abejita, I once knew your mother very well. So well, in fact, that when she decided she could no longer stand your father, I sent Piston to bring her to me.”

Oh, my God.

I couldn’t breathe as his words punctured deeply into my mind, wounding memories I’d never relished and somehow making them worse.