Total pages in book: 48
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 45785 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 229(@200wpm)___ 183(@250wpm)___ 153(@300wpm)
I rolled over again, and I turned to him and pushed myself up on my elbow.
“Before you say anything,” he said quickly. “I just wanna emphasize what I told you earlier. I knew exactly what I was doing—I knew the risks. And if putting my life on the line brings back my daughter, it’ll be worth it. I would do anything for her, Elliott.”
I frowned. “How about making some smart decisions? Would you do that for her?”
He clenched his jaw and gave me a look that told me he was very low on patience.
I didn’t fucking care. When was he gonna get it?
I sat up straighter, my feet landing on the floor. “I’m not saying this to be an asshole, Joel. I’m serious. You think I wouldn’t risk my life for Blake? You think I wouldn’t kill and die for her? But that’s not what you did tonight. You risked your life for nothing. That’s why I killed those motherfuckers—”
“Wait—you did what?” He went rigid. “You killed them?”
I—what… Did he not—I mean—oh, for chrissakes, I couldn’t handle another mindfuck. “You were there.” I spoke slowly, because I was clearly speaking to a child.
“But Blanco said—” He was as confused as I was. He frowned in thought. “When the doctor worked on me, Vincente said all eight men were dead. I thought… Fuck.” He blew out a breath, frustrated, and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s hazy—I need the damn meds to stop working for a goddamn second.”
He’d gotten his memories mixed up, hadn’t he? In the commotion, in the middle of all that pain, he’d assumed Vincente’s guards had killed those eight men. Or rather, the ones remaining after Joel had killed one or two. I didn’t remember all the specifics myself. Mayhem had its way of blurring the lines between reality and the mental gymnastics that followed in the aftermath.
“We were sitting ducks out there, man,” I said. “It was my decision. I killed them.”
Was that going to be a problem?
Joel took a deep breath and scrubbed his hands over his face. “I told you not to,” he said quietly. “It couldn’t have been you, because I specifically said I wanted to keep some of them alive for interrogation.”
I remembered that part. “And you were wrong. It wasn’t worth the risk—”
“That’s not your decision to make!” He exploded and glared murderously at me. Right then and there, I was every bit as much the enemy as Carillo was to him. “You had no right, Elliott! They could’ve led me to Blake! They could’ve known someth—”
“Except, they fucking don’t,” I growled. Fury got the best of me, and I shot up from the bed and balled my hands into fists. “This isn’t the time or place for you to walk before you can crawl, Joel. I’ve been dealing with cartels on and off for almost twenty goddamn years. When I say they don’t know shit, they don’t know shit. They’re clueless fuckers recruited out of poverty to do the dirty work for a few hundred bucks. Tonight was a warning sent by Carillo to Vincente. It was meant to scare Vincente—that’s all.”
“By sending him running to the next location?” he yelled incredulously. “How does that make sense if Carillo sent you a message to come here?”
“He—” I stopped abruptly and sucked in a breath, my brain grinding to a screeching halt. Holy fuck. I staggered back and slumped down on the bed again, and I stared unseeingly as new scenarios started swimming in my head. Scenarios, questions, doubts, fears. What was going on? Joel was right; if Carillo sent us here to murder Vincente…why scare the man off? Why send eight men here to attack the villa?
Why had Vincente been so generous last night? Credit cards, cash, luggage, private plane, whatever we’d needed. Was he holding something back? Was he in on it with Carillo? Had he offered me the world because he’d known I wasn’t leaving this place? Or had someone else sent the eight men? The Blanco Family had plenty of enemies.
Did I warn Vincente that he might be heading into a trap? Because what if he was on our side?
He has to be on our side. He may be theatrical, but that’s one hell of a show to fuck with you.
No. No, I couldn’t believe Vincente was working with Carillo. It didn’t make a lick of sense. At the same time, I couldn’t take any chances. All the information Vincente had given us—I’d trust it once Squeezy had double-checked it. Not a moment before.
Joel sat down in front of me.
We locked eyes.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.”
I… Fuck me. We had to leave. “Pack a bag for both of us,” I said quietly. “Make sure we have our papers. I’m gonna go downstairs and take whatever’s worth something.” That we could carry anyway. “Knowing him, there’s gonna be diamonds and shit.” I quickly put on my jeans and grabbed a T-shirt. “We’ll take one of the cars and some guns we’ll ditch before the airport. Cancún isn’t far away. We’ll fly to Florida from there, then Europe.”