“Who is this?” I demanded. When no one spoke I stood and scanned each bewildered face until my gaze landed on Brick. “Brick?”
The always calm and collected man motioned me over.
“She came out of the bushes over there.” Brick pointed a decent distance away. “Based on where she ended up, we think she ran out the front door. My men immediately brought her to me. But no red hair, my friend, so I knew right away she wasn’t your Miri.”
The reminder of Miri’s captivity was a slap to the face. I blinked back the hot rush of anguish, recovering fast enough to shelter my pain from Brick. “What did she say? Did you get anything out of her before she passed out?” I held my breath in the hope that this woman either knew of my doll or saw her inside. The most likely scenario was that she was one of Cuchillo’s captives for his new sex trafficking venture.
“Yes. She is tired, dehydrated, and quite confused, but she knows your woman.”
I swore my heart stopped beating for a second. “Wait. She… did you say she knows Miri?” Somehow I kept my voice from breaking. Honestly, I wasn’t sure how much longer I could keep up the facade when inside, I had shattered into a thousand pieces, each one slicing my heart.
Brick nodded. “Quite well actually. From before all this.” Brick waved his hand in the direction of Cuchillo’s hideous, out of place, Spanish-style mansion, built in the middle of nowhere fucking Texas.
“I don’t understand. She knows Miri, like knows her?” The new information caused me to stagger back a step. I rubbed a hand across my forehead and dragged it down my face.
Brick shrugged. “The girl didn’t say much before she went down. She seems very thin and badly abused. Once she reached us, she dropped like a rock and we haven’t been able to rouse her. Before she fainted, she said she shared a room with Miri in the house, but also shared a room with her before.” He gave me a sympathetic look. “Whatever the hell before means. I got the impression it was a few years ago.” My breath hitched when I remembered Miri once mentioned a friend who went missing… a friend whose name I couldn’t for the life of me recall. Brick continued speaking while I was in the midst of a major mental struggle to dig out the memories. “The two women escaped but got separated outside. This one,” he pointed to the unconscious woman, “thinks Miri was caught and brought back inside.”
“We need our men to search the perimeter, check the ground. God, Miri could be passed out somewhere, injured… shit.” My voice got progressively louder and my words came tumbling out in a rush. Brick grabbed me by the shoulders and gave me a rough shake.
“Lower your voice,” he growled. “Unless you want Los Guerreros to know we’re here.” Scowling, I jerked out of his hold, but nodded in agreement. Of course he was right. It was imperative, now more than ever, that I remained calm. I was no good to Miri if I didn’t think every step through before taking action. Running on emotions would only get my people killed and further endanger Miri. “My men are searching, they are contacting your men to do the same,” Brick said.
“Good. Thank you for that.” I huffed out a relieved breath. “Now what?”
“Now, my friend, we wait to see if they find your woman anywhere on the grounds. If not, we go in.”
Brick was so casual, so calm, he made it sound as if it were no big deal to storm a rival boss’s home—a home filled with trained men and dozens of weapons—and grab my girl without everything going to shit. Fuck. My hands twitched, itching to do something, to kill someone, to make someone pay for Miri’s suffering and now on top of that, the suffering of her friend.
“I told my men to quietly kill anyone who comes close to the perimeter,” I said to Brick. “It will cut down on the number of armed men we have to go through to take the house.”
“I agree.” Brick snapped his fingers. “Eric?” One of the men in the huddle broke off and joined us. Tall with jet-black hair and massive muscles, I recognized the guy from the earlier meeting on neutral ground. He was Brick’s second in command, his underboss. “Let everyone know to quietly, and I mean quietly, take out any Los Guerreros that venture near the edge of the property. But not if it will alert anyone to our presence. And Eric, keep one or two alive for questioning.”
I grinned at Brick’s last order.
Great fucking minds think alike.
Miri
I woke to a dry, hoarse hacking fit that sent unending waves of pain across every single square inch of my body. My throat hurt and I could hardly swallow because that fucking bastard El Cuchillo choked me so hard… last night? Earlier today? I had no clue what time or day it was. The light in the room was low, but bright enough that it took a minute or two for my eyes to adjust. Once they did, all hope was extinguished like a dying flame.
I was back in the torture room. Not tied to the chair, though. No, this time, I was bound to a flat surface—a table or a bar top if I had to guess. I knew I should test my restraints to see if I could get out, but what was the point? I hardly had the strength to keep my eyes open, let alone break free of any kind of ties or chains. Instead, I closed my eyes and waited for everything to end. Preferably soon.
In the distance, I heard doors banging open and closed. Every once in a while, the eerie quiet was interrupted by quick bursts of guttural Spanish before it fell silent again. Something was happening. Something not related to my escape attempt, I just didn’t know what. The corner of my mouth pulled into a tiny smirk. Maybe Cat got away and they were freaking out over it. Maybe she was sending the police.
I immediately squelched that idea. There was no more room in my heart for hope. It had gotten me far, kept me going long enough to withstand the daily beatings, the rapes, and the horrific amount of pain inflicted. It helped me formulate a plan to escape, and hopefully, for Cat to get free. But I was done with hope. I was going to die here. It was merely a matter of how and when. The sooner I resigned myself to that fact, the easier it would be to let go—of Jag, of a future, of Cat, of a life that would never be.
A single tear trickled down my cheek. I wanted to wipe it away so my captors wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing me break down, but with both hands bound above my head and tied to something sturdy, the tear would have to remain where it was. I must have dozed off again because I didn’t realize anyone else was in the room until the hard slap landed on my face. Stars exploded behind my eyes and my teeth rattled from the force of the blow.
“Wake up, puta. It is time.”
El Cuchillo.
He slapped me again and my head snapped to the side, my brain rocking inside my skull.
Bastard. I clenched my teeth and curled my hands into fists.
Not wanting him to see my fear, I kept my eyes squeezed shut in defiance. There might be no hope for me to get out of here, but I’d be damned if I was going down without a fight. He unleashed on me again, this time with his fists on my tender ribs. I yelped as fire spread from my side, making it difficult to breathe. Still I kept my eyes squeezed tight.
“I can keep this up all night, stupid cunt,” he growled.