No boundaries, p.1
No Boundaries, page 1
No Boundaries
Karen Kelley
Copyright
Published by K and K Publishing
Copyright 2023 by K and K Publishing
Cover by Karl Kelley
No Part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organization or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
TOC
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter One
Renegade heard them call the man Jose. He was pretty sure he was like the fifth man down the ladder to the main guy—Alejandro Martinez. Not that any of it mattered right now. Well, except that Alejandro ran most of the cartel in the south of Mexico—a mean mother who'd branched out and started shipping into Texas. Everything from drugs to guns to people—mostly women and kids. He was so evil both the Mexican and US governments were trying to shut him down.
Not that anyone had been able to. No one messed with Alejandro. If they did, they weren’t heard from again. So far, he’d been considered a ghost. No one had ever pinpointed his exact location.
Until Renegade tracked him down and began gathering crucial intel that would end his reign of terror for good. He was a damned good tracker. The best, in fact. That’s why they wanted him for the job. He’d only made one small mistake, and it would probably cost him his life. Damn, he never dreamed the man he was working with would turn on him.
Except he did.
That’s how he’d ended up in a tent in the southern part of Mexico, in the middle of a hot-ass summer, having the crap beat out of him. His body had almost gone numb from the number of times Jose hit or cut him.
A fly landed on his shoulder near one of the cuts. He jerked, and it took off—little bastards. The constant buzzing of flies sounded like helicopter blades. For a moment, he thought he was back in Afghanistan.
He closed his eyes tight. No, don’t remember that time.
The damned insects acted as though he was already dead, feasting on the open wounds. He wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Jose had been at it since last night, and his best guess was that it was late afternoon by the light and heat coming inside the tent.
Jose’s fist slammed into the side of Renegade’s face again. His head whipped to the right, blood and spit flying. Stars exploded in front of him as pain crashed inside his head like a demolition derby on a Saturday night—except he had the losing car. Son of a bitch, this guy knew just where to aim.
“You ready to talk, Culero?”
Renegade wasn’t ready to talk last night, and even if he could make his mouth work now, he still wouldn’t talk. That would mean giving up the rest of the team, and he would die before that happened. Everyone knew the risk when they went on a mission like this.
Another man entered the tent. Renegade could barely make out his features through his swollen eyes. The man was dressed all in white: shoes, slacks, shirt, jacket. They'd called in the big guns—Alejandro himself.
He dragged a chair across from Renegade and sat, absently brushing at some dirt on his pants. "You're going to talk sooner or later, Amigo. You might as well save yourself some pain and tell us what we need to know." His voice was soft, cultured, like he came from money.
Amigo, his ass. No way was Renegade his friend. Yeah, that was a joke. He snorted, which was about all he could manage right now, but it seemed to upset Alejandro. Good.
“You think we can’t make you scream in agony?” Alejandro’s voice took on a hard edge. “You will talk!”
"Might as well kill me now 'cause I'm not talking," he mumbled, but he didn't think they understood him.
Alejandro grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully. “You have the brand of a drug runner. It’s not like you’re a saint or anything. Come to work for me and I can give you everything. Or else I can make you pray for death. I can make your familia pay as well. Will they be able to stand the torture? Make the choice soon.”
Family? That had been a long time ago. Back when he was innocent of what really went on in the world. Back when he cherished his mother’s hugs and his papa’s smile of approval. Back then, he was called Rafael.
He closed his eyes. Alejandro’s words whipped around inside his head: drug runner, familia, torture…
Twenty years ago
“Your father can’t pay his rent, so you will come work for us,” Carlos said.
“He’s only ten. Don’t take my son,” Luis begged. “I’ll do anything.”
Rafael hated this man. His papa could barely scrape enough money together to put food on the table. Rafael had gotten a job sweeping the grocery store after school to help out. In return, they were given meat or vegetables that were about to spoil if they sat on a shelf one more day. When he’d talked to his papa about working full-time, his father had immediately said no. It was more important to get an education.
Now he looked at his father. “It’s okay, Papa. I can help.”
Luis shook his head. “No, I will not have you doing his dirty work. I would rather die.”
Carlos shrugged, brought his gun out, and pulled the trigger. A red dot formed between his father's eyes and a trickle of blood ran down his nose. As if in slow motion, Papa's legs buckled, and he dropped to the floor before falling forward, lifeless.
Rafael stumbled back. Everything blurred. This wasn’t happening. Not his papa. He began to shake, no longer feeling like a man trying to help, but like the little boy he was. A fat tear ran down his cheek. He sniffed and swiped it away.
His mother ran to his father, dropping beside him and pulling his head onto her lap as she screamed and cried. Rafael broke out of his trance and started to run toward his father, but Carlos grabbed his arm.
“You belong to me now.”
As he dragged him out the front door, two men pulled his mother away, ripping off her pretty blue apron. Their laughter and his mother’s screams echoed outside. It wasn’t long before he heard another gunshot and his mother’s screams stopped.
“I am your familia now. You will come work for me.”
Later that night, they branded his arm with the symbol of their drug runners. After he tried to run one too many times, they began calling him Renegade. Not that it stopped him. He didn’t care how many times they beat him, someday he would escape and make them pay for what they did.
Present time
A bucket of water was thrown on him.
“Rafael, wake up. Don’t let them win.”
Renegade blinked, expecting to see his father standing over him. Instead, Jose leaned down. Renegade tried to spit in his face, but his mouth still wasn’t working, so he gave up.
Jose laughed. "I thought we'd lost you for a while there. The boss wouldn't be happy if you died too soon. Besides, I'm having too much fun. I'm still trying to figure you out. You have darker skin than a gringo, but your eyes are bright green. What are you?"
His mother dusted the flour off her hands on the pale blue apron tied around her waist. When she saw he’d snuck into the kitchen, her eyes twinkled, and she smiled at him. His mother was beautiful with dark blonde hair pulled back into a long braid. His father called her his angel. His beautiful wife, who wasn't supposed to fall in love and run off with one of the workers on her father's hacienda, but she had.
“Rafael, it’s almost lunchtime. Go to the field and get your father.”
Except he couldn't move. He pulled against the ties that bound his wrists, but they were too tight. He couldn't get his father.
Time passed. Day turned to night, then day again.
“He’s not talking,” Jose finally said, voice flat. “I can’t break this one.”
"Take him up on the hill. Let the bugs and coyotes have him. If anyone finds him, they'll know it's a warning not to cross me, or the same thing will happen to them. I don't care how many law enforcement agents they send. I'm untouchable." Alejandro laughed as he left the tent.
A few minutes later, men dragged Renegade out of the tent and up a small hill. The unrelenting sun on his raw skin was brutal. Pain wracked his body and his mouth was so dry he couldn’t swallow. What he wouldn’t do for an ice-cold beer right now. Yeah, he didn’t think Jose would bring him one. He grunted when they dropped him face down in the dirt, then flipped him onto his back.
"You're one tough man, Amigo. Let's see how tough you are when the animals start to chew on you."
They stretched him out, tying the ropes on his
“I’m going to give you something to let everyone know not to cross Alejandro or they will suffer the consequences,” Jose said as he knelt beside him. He dug the knife in just deep enough to cut, but not deep enough to kill.
Renegade screamed. Sweat streamed down his face as he gulped in the hot air. When he thought he couldn't stand anymore, Jose stood, pocketing the knife.
“I admire you, Cabron. I never met a man I couldn’t break. Too bad you’re going to die out here in the desert all alone.”
Renegade heard the men moving around down the hill, then vehicles pulling away. He tugged on the ropes but he was too weak. The sun beat down unmercifully. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry.
Night fell and the desert air chilled him to the bone. He shivered, teeth clicking. Brush rustled nearby. An animal crept closer. He raised his head as much as he could and, with what little strength he had left, yelled, then his head dropped back to the hard desert ground. There was a louder rustling as whatever had been there scurried away, but it would be back.
He prayed for death.
“Don’t give up,” his mother said. “Remember, you have a guardian angel watching over you.”
“Tired. Why can’t I be with you and Papa?”
“It’s not your time, son. You still have too much work to do.”
He drew in a breath, then let it out. He just wanted to sleep.
The sun came up. Through one swollen eye he saw a coyote stealthily moving toward him. His jaws drooling at the prospect of a meal he didn't have to work for. Renegade opened his mouth to yell, but nothing came out.
So, this was it. He silently prayed for a swift end.
A gunshot blasted, kicking up the dirt near the coyote and sending it yelping and running in the opposite direction. Had Jose come back and decided to end it after all? That was fine with him.
“What are you doing, Amelia? The man is dead. You might as well let the starving animal have him.”
The softest hands he'd ever felt touched his face, then moved to his neck. "Except he's not dead. He has a pulse, but it's weak. Help me get him to the Jeep, Tony."
Maybe this was a hallucination. He didn’t care anymore.
“It’s okay. I’ll take care of you,” she said. “Here’s some water, but just enough to wet your mouth. I don’t want you choking or getting sick. I’ll give you more later.”
The small amount of moisture wet his lips and just barely wet his mouth. Renegade opened his eyes. The sun cast a warm light around her. She was beautiful, like an angel.
Maybe this was what death was like. If so, he didn’t mind dying—not at all.
Chapter Two
“Amelia, look at his chest. He wears Alejandro’s mark.” Tony glanced around as if he thought Alejandro might appear any minute.
Tony hated Alejandro just as much as Amelia, but they also knew what he was capable of doing if they helped one of his enemies and he found out about it.
And this man was apparently one of his enemies.
Amelia stared at the mark covered in dried blood, and even though it was scorching hot out, the blood in her veins ran cold. The letters AM with a circle around them carved into his chest weren't deep enough to kill, but to warn someone they'd better walk away.
It wasn’t the first time she’d seen Alejandro’s mark. Usually, the person was already dead and all they could do was bury them. The man staked out was meant to die painfully and slowly, torn apart by the desert animals.
Except he was still alive. Alejandro and his men hadn’t been gone long or they would’ve been too late.
“Help me get him to the Jeep.” When Tony didn’t make a move, she met his gaze. “Or I’ll do it without your help. But one way or the other, I’m not leaving him here.”
“You’re jeopardizing everything you’ve worked for,” he grumbled beneath his breath, but took out his knife as he walked closer. He cut the ropes on the man’s wrist, then brought his arm to his side, freezing when another mark became visible.
She’d seen it, too.
Dammit! Now what did she do? They looked at each other.
“He has the brand of a drug runner, Amelia. He’s no better than Alejandro and his men. We should walk away now. At least we’d be doing some starving coyote a favor, and be ridding the world of a drug runner.”
Tony was right. The three X’s followed by a star were an unmistakable brand. The cartel always marked their drug runners with three X’s, followed by a symbol. She didn't recognize this one. It definitely wasn’t Alejandro’s mark. She’d seen that one before. It didn't mean the man was innocent, though. New cartels were starting up all the time. Everyone out to make a quick dollar. It didn’t matter if they ruined lives along the way. The cartels were all about money and power.
“You’re thinking too much, Amelia. Go back to the Jeep and I’ll end this right now. I’ll make sure he doesn’t suffer if that’s what worries you.”
She thought about what he was telling her. This man must've done something pretty bad to gain Alejandro's attention. Maybe he got greedy. Tony could take care of it right here in the desert. The man was probably going to die anyway. His pulse had been feeble.
“You need to listen to me, Miha,” Tony pleaded.
She should, but she couldn’t. Amelia knew she couldn't leave the stranger there for the wild animals to rip apart or Tony to kill.
She made a quick decision. The only one she could make. She didn’t rescue people only to leave one to die. "I doubt Alejandro will come back to check on this man. Now, help me get him into the Jeep."
“You’ll get us all killed.”
But he would do her bidding, even if he didn’t like it, and they both knew it. He advised her, but he never went against her wishes. Sometimes he argued a lot, but he never said no.
Tony cut the other ropes, then moved her hands away, and pulled the man up and over his shoulder. He grunted from the other man's weight, made sure it was evenly distributed, then carried him with little difficulty to the Jeep. He didn't let the matter drop, though. He mumbled something about her kindness getting them all in trouble.
She knew he would grumble for the rest of the day, but she didn't think he would've left the man to die a slow, painful, death or even put him out of his misery. Well, he might have done that. Tony was no saint. But deep down, Tony was a good man. That's why she'd hired him.
"He'll probably be dead before we get back to the hacienda," Tony warned as he started the Jeep.
"If he is, we’ll bury him." At least that should shut Tony up.
What the hell was she doing? If Alejandro discovered she'd helped this man, he would end her entire operation. No, she argued with herself. There was no way he would know. As soon as the man was better, she'd have Tony take him to the nearest town. He would be on his own from there. He could get out of Mexico. She didn't think he was full-blooded Mexican. She'd seen the color of his eyes–dull green—the lackluster eyes of a dying man.
It wasn't uncommon to see Mexican children with blue or green eyes. Men would come over from the States, sleep with the women, and then leave, not caring if they left anything behind, like a child growing inside her. Not that Amelia knew if this was the case or not, but green eyes would give him a better chance of crossing the border and escaping Alejandro's wrath.
She'd seen the head of the southern drug cartel’s anger before. It hadn’t been pretty. Just like he’d done to this man, he enjoyed mutilating people and destroying lives. She tried to save as many women and children, and sometimes men, as she could from the cartels. So far, they had let her operate her safehouse without repercussions. She knew helping this man could put an end to all that.
But only if Alejandro found out.
"I know I'm taking a chance," she admitted.
Tony sighed after a moment. "It's okay, Miha. We’ll get him well, then I’ll take him away where he'll be safe. Alejandro will never know you made him better. That is, if he doesn't die first."
She noticed there was still a hard edge in his voice. Not that she really blamed him. They knew nothing about the man. Only that Alejandro wanted him to die a horrible death, and he was a drug runner.
That was two marks against him. Most drug runners took the job to feed their family. It was risky work and never ended well for the runner. Either they ended up moving up in the cartel, someone shot them, or they ended up in prison.
