Wicked and forever, p.2
Wicked and Forever, page 2
When he spotted her, he ripped off his mask and flashed her a wide smile. “Chiquita, there you are. Put down the guns and greet me the way I taught you.”
On her knees. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t betray Trees like that. And the distraction would only delay the inevitable destruction of all he held dear. Nor could she simply shoot Victor. As much as she would love to, there was a way to make the most of this situation, one that wouldn’t simply end her rapist. One that would also make her family safe from everyone in the Tierra Caliente cartel so Valeria and Jorge could finally live.
Time to start swaying Victor to a different way of thinking.
“Is that what you really want in life?” she challenged. “All you want? A blow job?”
“You’re right. It will wait until I set this bastard’s house on fire. You can suck me off while I watch it burn.”
Never. “Victor, he is not a man to cross.”
Ramos dropped the gas can and stormed in her direction, thunder rolling across his face. “Neither am I. He killed my brother, and for that, he will pay.”
Skittering back a step, Laila raised the guns to him, her trigger finger itching. “He told me. But stop. Think about what you are doing.”
“Has Hector’s killer been keeping you here?”
That question led to dangerous answers. “Does it really matter to you? Does he?”
Victor looked at her as if she’d gone insane. “Of course. Because of him, my brother is dead.”
“Your brother is dead because he behaved stupidly and he got lazy. Because he decided to chase pussy and petty nonsense, instead of embracing what he truly wanted—to take over the Tierra Caliente cartel. I respect that he would never have crossed Emilo, but now…” Laila shrugged, then took a deep breath and went for broke. “I have always thought you were too smart to let yourself fall into his trap. Was I wrong? Are you more interested in paltry vengeance when the goal you both sought, the power you both coveted, is right in front of you? You could oust Geraldo Montilla and be king, sit on his throne and rule an empire richer than most governments—if you focused.”
Victor scoffed. “Montilla has surrounded himself with an army, and Emilo’s remaining men are too few. They are demoralized. Too many have left because the money no longer flows.”
“Excuses. Fix it and do what you should to achieve the dream on your brother’s behalf. Reign in his memory. Or are you afraid?” she baited him.
His face shouted, but his voice was a quiet hiss. “I am afraid of nothing.”
“Good. Then do what is important.”
“Why do you care if I take down Montilla and rule his empire?” Victor’s eyes narrowed as he had the audacity to grip her chin and force her gaze to his. “You hate me.”
“I do.” If she lied about that, he would never listen. And she refused to invite or stomach his advances again. “But I can help you take down Geraldo Montilla.”
He narrowed his dark eyes. “You lie, puta.”
“It is true. Since I have slept under the enemy’s roof, I have learned things that will help you.” Not a lot, but she would make things up if she had to. Whatever it took to divert Victor’s attention from Trees and keep her family safe. “Things you cannot possibly know. Things that will turn the tables. But if you are too weak to pursue your dream…”
“I am too weak for nothing,” he spat, gripping her chin harder. “I can rule. I will rule.” His eyes burned with resolve. “And you will help me.”
“You will need me.”
A smile crept across his face. “Yes. Start on your knees.”
She rolled her eyes. “So quickly you revert, giving up your goals for petty pleasures. It seems you are not ready to become the next head of the cartel, after all.”
“I am. You know that, or you would never have suggested I take over.”
She’d suggested it because she could manipulate him into weakening Geraldo Montilla, perhaps even taking the kingpin down, which would ensure her family’s safety. But it would probably mean Victor’s death, too.
The perfect end.
“True,” she lied with a smile. “But if you want the empire and you want my help claiming the throne, there must be changes.”
His eyes narrowed. “Such as?”
“First, get your hands off me.” She jerked her chin out of his grasp. “I am your partner, not your whore. Not your punching bag. Do not ever touch me again. Are we clear? If you cannot manage that, I will tell you nothing.”
“You think I care? Your pussy, while sweet, is hardly the only one. Since you left, I have been relieving myself with girls in a nearby village. They are happy to slake my lust.”
Laila would bet anything that when Victor said girls, he meant that literally. He liked them young…
Swallowing down her distaste, she flashed him a smile. If he expected her to care who he fucked, he was sorely mistaken. “So you agree? You will not touch me.”
“Of course.” He waved a dismissive hand. “You are hardly irreplaceable.”
Then why had he chased her across Orlando just last week, intent on recapturing her so she could warm his bed again? But Laila didn’t point that out. She just thanked the heavens that his vanity and ambition outweighed his desire for her.
“Then we are in agreement. We are partners with one goal. You will not touch me. If you forget our agreement, I will pull the trigger.”
“Don’t threaten me, chiquita.”
When he made to grab her face again, she pressed the gun to his forehead. “Do not threaten me, Victor.”
He scoffed. “You think I could not wrest that gun from you? Are you still that naive?”
“You could,” she acknowledged. “But then you will never know what I know. You will never be king. And you will never give your brother the tribute he deserves.”
Victor hesitated, then backed away with a grunt. “All right. Keep your guns. I don’t care. Now tell me everything.”
“Not so fast. I have more demands. Not only will you not touch me, you will leave my sister and Jorge alone.”
He shook his head. “The old man wants them. If I seize them first, I have a bargaining chip—”
“You will not need them. There is another one, a better one,” she insisted, making things up as she went.
But then she realized it wasn’t untrue. She could use the Edgingtons’ sister, Kimber, to her advantage—all while helping to win the woman’s freedom. If she finessed Victor just right, it would work.
“You lie.”
“I do not. But before I tell you more, you must agree that my family is off-limits.”
“If you’re not lying to me, if you know of more effective leverage, then I agree. I have no use for Emilo’s shrew or his snot-nosed boy.”
Laila tried to hold down her giddiness. She almost had Victor where she wanted him. So, so close… He just had to accept one more condition. “Excellent. You must also abandon this pointless revenge against the man who has been keeping me here. He is simply a paid operative doing his job.”
Victor raised a brow. “Pointless? He killed my brother. But I am curious, chiquita. Why do you care what happens to this man? Is it because he killed for you? Because he means something to you?”
When her heart started pounding and she had to resist the urge to fidget, she worried he could see right through her. “He means nothing. I merely prevent you from making a stupid mistake. I told you he is not a man to cross. If you do not want to fight him while doing the far more important work of deposing Geraldo Montilla, forget this man.”
“He fucked you.”
Oh, he did much more than that.
Heat rushed to Laila’s face and she hoped Victor didn’t notice. “Of course he did. He is a man—a very large one. I had no way to stop him from taking what he wanted.”
Never mind that, last time, she had ached to give herself to him.
He shrugged, as if the possibility that someone else had raped her meant nothing to him. “Why do you care whether I seize Geraldo Montilla’s throne? Are you hoping for money?”
Dipped in rivers of innocent blood? “No. I want peace. If you rule the cartel, the threat to my family is gone. You become rich and powerful beyond your dreams while Valeria, Jorge, and I are finally free. Our paths will not cross again. I believe it is, as the Americans say, a win-win. Do you not agree?”
Victor stared so long she felt dissected. Could he see through her, down to her half-truths and lies? The urge to squirm rode her, but Laila tamped it down and waited, preparing arguments in case she needed them.
“You are right,” Victor conceded.
Somehow, she kept in her giant sigh of relief. “As soon as you leave, I will call you with the first piece of information you need. Every few days, I will deliver more until—”
“You negotiated your terms. Now I will negotiate mine. I have only one.” The way he smiled told Laila she would hate it. “You come with me.”
Horror gripped her until she couldn’t breathe. “No. Impossible. This man—”
“Forest Scott?” She must have looked surprised because he slanted her a superior glance. “Did you think I wouldn’t learn about my adversary before I came to kill him?”
Of course he would. Victor wasn’t lazy, just half-witted. “He is very dangerous. He will come for me.”
“Because you mean something to him?” Victor sauntered closer, his stare speculative.
I love you, Laila.
The memory of Trees’s sweet words made her heart ache. Would she ever hear them again?
Probably not, and she couldn’t let her anguish about that make her decision. Survival didn’t care about her feelings. Or his. Saving her family, Kimber Trenton, and Trees was more important. Someday, Trees would move on. Since he was a good man, he would find someone worthy of his love. Her heart would be a casualty, but for his safety and his future, that was a small sacrifice.
“Pay attention. I told you he is merely paid to keep me here, but he values his job. He is a professional. He will not admit defeat.”
“So we’ll make him.”
“Are you listening? He will be a thorn in your side you do not need while you must concentrate on taking down Montilla.”
“If Mr. Scott is a problem, I will dispatch him quickly.” Victor shot her a speculative glance. “Unless you can think of some other way to keep him at bay? As you pointed out, it would be better for my focus. I know it would be better for his health.”
A chill shot through Laila. How could she prevent Trees from doing what he would inevitably do and rescuing her?
“Another reason you should leave me here, so no one is wise to our plan. I can continue to extract more information from him you can use to your benefit and—”
“You coming with me is a nonnegotiable term. It is the only way I can hold you accountable if your information is, shall we say, ineffectual. If you refuse, I will set this house on fire with you inside, turn all my attention to killing your sister while holding your nephew hostage. After I’ve dispatched with Mr. Scott, of course.”
With her thoughts racing and her panic climbing, Laila tried to think of a way around Victor’s demand. But there wasn’t one. As much as she wanted to cry about that, it would do her no good. She would rather protect Trees than herself. “You understand that if I come with you, I will not be able to overhear any more valuable information.”
It was a last-ditch effort. She prayed it would succeed.
Once again, the world was against her.
“You are resourceful, Laila. Much smarter than your sister. If I need more information, you will find a way—spreading your legs again for Mr. Scott, perhaps—to procure it. But for now, you will come with me.”
Laila held back the insane and detrimental urge to sob. She would probably never see Trees again, much less have the chance to tell him she had feelings for him, too. Maybe that was for the best.
She swallowed everything back but her determination. “All right. I will go with you.”
The two hours since the alarm had alerted Trees that someone had infiltrated his property had been among the worst of his life. He’d tried a hundred times to call Laila. Nothing. And he had no idea what the fuck was going on. The intruder had shot out every surveillance camera inside the house. So all Trees knew? An asshole wearing a ski mask had shattered his living room window, then climbed in through the gaping hole. Twenty minutes later, he’d walked out with Laila at his side—no struggle, no gun, no coercion necessary. She’d merely climbed into the passenger’s seat of the bastard’s black truck with its hidden plates. Then the vehicle had screeched away, taking Laila—and his heart—with it.
Who the fuck had abducted her? How had he coerced her compliance? What was she enduring now?
The intruder had to be someone she knew. Trees was convinced of that.
Since she’d tried to escape two nights ago for a clandestine meet-up with Hunter Edgington to help save the man’s sister, as well as her own, Trees would have suspected his boss. But all of the douche buckets he worked for, Hunter included, had been thirty thousand feet in the air with him when Laila had been taken.
So whoever had her captive wasn’t a friendly, which made the fact that she’d left without being forced even more baffling. Worse, he suspected it was someone from either Geraldo Montilla’s or Victor Ramos’s orbit.
One thing he knew for sure? Laila would never comply merely to ensure her own safety. But for Valeria’s? For Jorge’s? They were her weakness. Whoever had taken her probably knew it.
Fuck.
“Anything, buddy?” Zy burst in through the back door, stopping short in the portal, staring at the shards of glass everywhere.
Trees didn’t understand the destruction. Had Laila fought in the kitchen but given up by the time she’d been dragged to the front door? “Nothing. I’ve looked all over the house for clues to understand what happened and who took her.”
Laila hadn’t taken a single one of her possessions. Not her clothes or her phone. Not even a nightlight. But two SIGs were missing off his wall in his underground panic room, along with a box of ammo. That scared the shit out of him.
“Are you sure Laila walked out of her own free will?”
“It fucking looks that way.” Trees tried to stifle both his alarm and impatience and tossed Zy his phone, screen open to the feed from the front porch camera. “Here. Watch. This is all I’ve got.”
As Zy did, Trees paced to Laila’s room. He couldn’t watch the video again, not without wanting to tear something apart and kill a motherfucker.
Inside her room, he found far fewer signs of struggle. In fact, her bed wasn’t even rumpled. The only hint he had that she’d been here? The towel wadded up in the bathroom sink, as if she’d dumped it there in a hurry. The middle was still damp.
He lifted the terry cloth and inhaled. It smelled like Laila. As her scent filled his nose, he tried not to lose his shit or start tearing down the world to find her.
Somehow, someone had swooped in and taken her from him. He was going to fucking get her back—no matter what.
“I don’t understand.” Zy frowned from the doorway of Laila’s bathroom. “But you’ve got to hold it together, buddy.”
Reluctantly, Trees dropped the towel. “How would you be doing right now if someone had taken Tessa?”
“I’d be somewhere between falling apart and wanting to rip a motherfucker into pieces, too. Point taken. So where do we go from here? Do you have any theories about who has her?”
“My best guess? Victor Ramos, mostly because Geraldo Montilla should have been in Florida for that classic car race.”
“Unless it was a ruse.”
It was possible, but Trees’s gut said no. “If Montilla had done this, he would have sent more than one person to abduct Laila. Victor, on the other hand… Now that I’ve offed his brother, maybe he’s alone? I’m not sure how the fuck he found me. And how did whoever this son of a bitch was make it ten feet across the yard without Barney ripping out his entrails?” Trees said of his big-ass Rottweiler.
“Fucker came prepared. He tossed your four-legged mooch a raw steak slathered in something I suspect put Barney out for a while. I found the steak bone and a loopy dog.”
That pissed Trees off. “Is Barney okay?”
“Yeah. He’s up and walking. A little sideways, but walking.”
At least that was one less worry. “Maybe I should call the bosses.”
But what could they do when all their resources were stretched thin, trying to bring Kimber home?
“To confirm that Laila is long gone? I think they know, buddy. But I’ll advise them. Why don’t you grab your computer, see if you can catch her trail?”
Probably his best course of action, but the last damn thing he wanted to do was sit on his ass when someone had their filthy fucking hands all over his woman. Was she screaming? Crying? Terrified? Begging? Being forced? Violated? Tortured? Was she even alive anymore?
God, he couldn’t stand not knowing.
Suddenly, Zy dropped a hand to his shoulder. “You’ve got to do something constructive. Gnashing your teeth and wishing death on whoever took her isn’t it.”
Trees had no idea what his friend meant until he realized he’d gripped the pedestal sink and, in impotent fury, pulled it from the wall. With a curse, he released the fixture, leaving it balanced precariously, and zipped past Zy, stomping his way to his home office. There, he grabbed a computer, stalked to the kitchen, and shoved all the broken glassware and china from the table with a sweep of his arm. He lifted the chair and emptied the shards from his seat, then plopped down and pried the machine open.
Where the fuck should he start? What scan could he possibly run that might lead him to Laila?
Apprehension gnawed at his gut as he stared at the blank screen with its blinking cursor. Traffic cams. Police communications. Maybe that would turn up something. Or maybe he should work backward, follow his hunch, and see if he could track Geraldo Montilla’s and Victor Ramos’s last known locations.
Trees launched multiple searches, then spoke to Zy without even looking his friend’s way. “Call the colonel for me. Ask him if he knows anyone on the Lafayette PD who’d be willing to put out a BOLO for Laila. Or better yet, report her kidnapping.”
On her knees. She wouldn’t do it. She wouldn’t betray Trees like that. And the distraction would only delay the inevitable destruction of all he held dear. Nor could she simply shoot Victor. As much as she would love to, there was a way to make the most of this situation, one that wouldn’t simply end her rapist. One that would also make her family safe from everyone in the Tierra Caliente cartel so Valeria and Jorge could finally live.
Time to start swaying Victor to a different way of thinking.
“Is that what you really want in life?” she challenged. “All you want? A blow job?”
“You’re right. It will wait until I set this bastard’s house on fire. You can suck me off while I watch it burn.”
Never. “Victor, he is not a man to cross.”
Ramos dropped the gas can and stormed in her direction, thunder rolling across his face. “Neither am I. He killed my brother, and for that, he will pay.”
Skittering back a step, Laila raised the guns to him, her trigger finger itching. “He told me. But stop. Think about what you are doing.”
“Has Hector’s killer been keeping you here?”
That question led to dangerous answers. “Does it really matter to you? Does he?”
Victor looked at her as if she’d gone insane. “Of course. Because of him, my brother is dead.”
“Your brother is dead because he behaved stupidly and he got lazy. Because he decided to chase pussy and petty nonsense, instead of embracing what he truly wanted—to take over the Tierra Caliente cartel. I respect that he would never have crossed Emilo, but now…” Laila shrugged, then took a deep breath and went for broke. “I have always thought you were too smart to let yourself fall into his trap. Was I wrong? Are you more interested in paltry vengeance when the goal you both sought, the power you both coveted, is right in front of you? You could oust Geraldo Montilla and be king, sit on his throne and rule an empire richer than most governments—if you focused.”
Victor scoffed. “Montilla has surrounded himself with an army, and Emilo’s remaining men are too few. They are demoralized. Too many have left because the money no longer flows.”
“Excuses. Fix it and do what you should to achieve the dream on your brother’s behalf. Reign in his memory. Or are you afraid?” she baited him.
His face shouted, but his voice was a quiet hiss. “I am afraid of nothing.”
“Good. Then do what is important.”
“Why do you care if I take down Montilla and rule his empire?” Victor’s eyes narrowed as he had the audacity to grip her chin and force her gaze to his. “You hate me.”
“I do.” If she lied about that, he would never listen. And she refused to invite or stomach his advances again. “But I can help you take down Geraldo Montilla.”
He narrowed his dark eyes. “You lie, puta.”
“It is true. Since I have slept under the enemy’s roof, I have learned things that will help you.” Not a lot, but she would make things up if she had to. Whatever it took to divert Victor’s attention from Trees and keep her family safe. “Things you cannot possibly know. Things that will turn the tables. But if you are too weak to pursue your dream…”
“I am too weak for nothing,” he spat, gripping her chin harder. “I can rule. I will rule.” His eyes burned with resolve. “And you will help me.”
“You will need me.”
A smile crept across his face. “Yes. Start on your knees.”
She rolled her eyes. “So quickly you revert, giving up your goals for petty pleasures. It seems you are not ready to become the next head of the cartel, after all.”
“I am. You know that, or you would never have suggested I take over.”
She’d suggested it because she could manipulate him into weakening Geraldo Montilla, perhaps even taking the kingpin down, which would ensure her family’s safety. But it would probably mean Victor’s death, too.
The perfect end.
“True,” she lied with a smile. “But if you want the empire and you want my help claiming the throne, there must be changes.”
His eyes narrowed. “Such as?”
“First, get your hands off me.” She jerked her chin out of his grasp. “I am your partner, not your whore. Not your punching bag. Do not ever touch me again. Are we clear? If you cannot manage that, I will tell you nothing.”
“You think I care? Your pussy, while sweet, is hardly the only one. Since you left, I have been relieving myself with girls in a nearby village. They are happy to slake my lust.”
Laila would bet anything that when Victor said girls, he meant that literally. He liked them young…
Swallowing down her distaste, she flashed him a smile. If he expected her to care who he fucked, he was sorely mistaken. “So you agree? You will not touch me.”
“Of course.” He waved a dismissive hand. “You are hardly irreplaceable.”
Then why had he chased her across Orlando just last week, intent on recapturing her so she could warm his bed again? But Laila didn’t point that out. She just thanked the heavens that his vanity and ambition outweighed his desire for her.
“Then we are in agreement. We are partners with one goal. You will not touch me. If you forget our agreement, I will pull the trigger.”
“Don’t threaten me, chiquita.”
When he made to grab her face again, she pressed the gun to his forehead. “Do not threaten me, Victor.”
He scoffed. “You think I could not wrest that gun from you? Are you still that naive?”
“You could,” she acknowledged. “But then you will never know what I know. You will never be king. And you will never give your brother the tribute he deserves.”
Victor hesitated, then backed away with a grunt. “All right. Keep your guns. I don’t care. Now tell me everything.”
“Not so fast. I have more demands. Not only will you not touch me, you will leave my sister and Jorge alone.”
He shook his head. “The old man wants them. If I seize them first, I have a bargaining chip—”
“You will not need them. There is another one, a better one,” she insisted, making things up as she went.
But then she realized it wasn’t untrue. She could use the Edgingtons’ sister, Kimber, to her advantage—all while helping to win the woman’s freedom. If she finessed Victor just right, it would work.
“You lie.”
“I do not. But before I tell you more, you must agree that my family is off-limits.”
“If you’re not lying to me, if you know of more effective leverage, then I agree. I have no use for Emilo’s shrew or his snot-nosed boy.”
Laila tried to hold down her giddiness. She almost had Victor where she wanted him. So, so close… He just had to accept one more condition. “Excellent. You must also abandon this pointless revenge against the man who has been keeping me here. He is simply a paid operative doing his job.”
Victor raised a brow. “Pointless? He killed my brother. But I am curious, chiquita. Why do you care what happens to this man? Is it because he killed for you? Because he means something to you?”
When her heart started pounding and she had to resist the urge to fidget, she worried he could see right through her. “He means nothing. I merely prevent you from making a stupid mistake. I told you he is not a man to cross. If you do not want to fight him while doing the far more important work of deposing Geraldo Montilla, forget this man.”
“He fucked you.”
Oh, he did much more than that.
Heat rushed to Laila’s face and she hoped Victor didn’t notice. “Of course he did. He is a man—a very large one. I had no way to stop him from taking what he wanted.”
Never mind that, last time, she had ached to give herself to him.
He shrugged, as if the possibility that someone else had raped her meant nothing to him. “Why do you care whether I seize Geraldo Montilla’s throne? Are you hoping for money?”
Dipped in rivers of innocent blood? “No. I want peace. If you rule the cartel, the threat to my family is gone. You become rich and powerful beyond your dreams while Valeria, Jorge, and I are finally free. Our paths will not cross again. I believe it is, as the Americans say, a win-win. Do you not agree?”
Victor stared so long she felt dissected. Could he see through her, down to her half-truths and lies? The urge to squirm rode her, but Laila tamped it down and waited, preparing arguments in case she needed them.
“You are right,” Victor conceded.
Somehow, she kept in her giant sigh of relief. “As soon as you leave, I will call you with the first piece of information you need. Every few days, I will deliver more until—”
“You negotiated your terms. Now I will negotiate mine. I have only one.” The way he smiled told Laila she would hate it. “You come with me.”
Horror gripped her until she couldn’t breathe. “No. Impossible. This man—”
“Forest Scott?” She must have looked surprised because he slanted her a superior glance. “Did you think I wouldn’t learn about my adversary before I came to kill him?”
Of course he would. Victor wasn’t lazy, just half-witted. “He is very dangerous. He will come for me.”
“Because you mean something to him?” Victor sauntered closer, his stare speculative.
I love you, Laila.
The memory of Trees’s sweet words made her heart ache. Would she ever hear them again?
Probably not, and she couldn’t let her anguish about that make her decision. Survival didn’t care about her feelings. Or his. Saving her family, Kimber Trenton, and Trees was more important. Someday, Trees would move on. Since he was a good man, he would find someone worthy of his love. Her heart would be a casualty, but for his safety and his future, that was a small sacrifice.
“Pay attention. I told you he is merely paid to keep me here, but he values his job. He is a professional. He will not admit defeat.”
“So we’ll make him.”
“Are you listening? He will be a thorn in your side you do not need while you must concentrate on taking down Montilla.”
“If Mr. Scott is a problem, I will dispatch him quickly.” Victor shot her a speculative glance. “Unless you can think of some other way to keep him at bay? As you pointed out, it would be better for my focus. I know it would be better for his health.”
A chill shot through Laila. How could she prevent Trees from doing what he would inevitably do and rescuing her?
“Another reason you should leave me here, so no one is wise to our plan. I can continue to extract more information from him you can use to your benefit and—”
“You coming with me is a nonnegotiable term. It is the only way I can hold you accountable if your information is, shall we say, ineffectual. If you refuse, I will set this house on fire with you inside, turn all my attention to killing your sister while holding your nephew hostage. After I’ve dispatched with Mr. Scott, of course.”
With her thoughts racing and her panic climbing, Laila tried to think of a way around Victor’s demand. But there wasn’t one. As much as she wanted to cry about that, it would do her no good. She would rather protect Trees than herself. “You understand that if I come with you, I will not be able to overhear any more valuable information.”
It was a last-ditch effort. She prayed it would succeed.
Once again, the world was against her.
“You are resourceful, Laila. Much smarter than your sister. If I need more information, you will find a way—spreading your legs again for Mr. Scott, perhaps—to procure it. But for now, you will come with me.”
Laila held back the insane and detrimental urge to sob. She would probably never see Trees again, much less have the chance to tell him she had feelings for him, too. Maybe that was for the best.
She swallowed everything back but her determination. “All right. I will go with you.”
The two hours since the alarm had alerted Trees that someone had infiltrated his property had been among the worst of his life. He’d tried a hundred times to call Laila. Nothing. And he had no idea what the fuck was going on. The intruder had shot out every surveillance camera inside the house. So all Trees knew? An asshole wearing a ski mask had shattered his living room window, then climbed in through the gaping hole. Twenty minutes later, he’d walked out with Laila at his side—no struggle, no gun, no coercion necessary. She’d merely climbed into the passenger’s seat of the bastard’s black truck with its hidden plates. Then the vehicle had screeched away, taking Laila—and his heart—with it.
Who the fuck had abducted her? How had he coerced her compliance? What was she enduring now?
The intruder had to be someone she knew. Trees was convinced of that.
Since she’d tried to escape two nights ago for a clandestine meet-up with Hunter Edgington to help save the man’s sister, as well as her own, Trees would have suspected his boss. But all of the douche buckets he worked for, Hunter included, had been thirty thousand feet in the air with him when Laila had been taken.
So whoever had her captive wasn’t a friendly, which made the fact that she’d left without being forced even more baffling. Worse, he suspected it was someone from either Geraldo Montilla’s or Victor Ramos’s orbit.
One thing he knew for sure? Laila would never comply merely to ensure her own safety. But for Valeria’s? For Jorge’s? They were her weakness. Whoever had taken her probably knew it.
Fuck.
“Anything, buddy?” Zy burst in through the back door, stopping short in the portal, staring at the shards of glass everywhere.
Trees didn’t understand the destruction. Had Laila fought in the kitchen but given up by the time she’d been dragged to the front door? “Nothing. I’ve looked all over the house for clues to understand what happened and who took her.”
Laila hadn’t taken a single one of her possessions. Not her clothes or her phone. Not even a nightlight. But two SIGs were missing off his wall in his underground panic room, along with a box of ammo. That scared the shit out of him.
“Are you sure Laila walked out of her own free will?”
“It fucking looks that way.” Trees tried to stifle both his alarm and impatience and tossed Zy his phone, screen open to the feed from the front porch camera. “Here. Watch. This is all I’ve got.”
As Zy did, Trees paced to Laila’s room. He couldn’t watch the video again, not without wanting to tear something apart and kill a motherfucker.
Inside her room, he found far fewer signs of struggle. In fact, her bed wasn’t even rumpled. The only hint he had that she’d been here? The towel wadded up in the bathroom sink, as if she’d dumped it there in a hurry. The middle was still damp.
He lifted the terry cloth and inhaled. It smelled like Laila. As her scent filled his nose, he tried not to lose his shit or start tearing down the world to find her.
Somehow, someone had swooped in and taken her from him. He was going to fucking get her back—no matter what.
“I don’t understand.” Zy frowned from the doorway of Laila’s bathroom. “But you’ve got to hold it together, buddy.”
Reluctantly, Trees dropped the towel. “How would you be doing right now if someone had taken Tessa?”
“I’d be somewhere between falling apart and wanting to rip a motherfucker into pieces, too. Point taken. So where do we go from here? Do you have any theories about who has her?”
“My best guess? Victor Ramos, mostly because Geraldo Montilla should have been in Florida for that classic car race.”
“Unless it was a ruse.”
It was possible, but Trees’s gut said no. “If Montilla had done this, he would have sent more than one person to abduct Laila. Victor, on the other hand… Now that I’ve offed his brother, maybe he’s alone? I’m not sure how the fuck he found me. And how did whoever this son of a bitch was make it ten feet across the yard without Barney ripping out his entrails?” Trees said of his big-ass Rottweiler.
“Fucker came prepared. He tossed your four-legged mooch a raw steak slathered in something I suspect put Barney out for a while. I found the steak bone and a loopy dog.”
That pissed Trees off. “Is Barney okay?”
“Yeah. He’s up and walking. A little sideways, but walking.”
At least that was one less worry. “Maybe I should call the bosses.”
But what could they do when all their resources were stretched thin, trying to bring Kimber home?
“To confirm that Laila is long gone? I think they know, buddy. But I’ll advise them. Why don’t you grab your computer, see if you can catch her trail?”
Probably his best course of action, but the last damn thing he wanted to do was sit on his ass when someone had their filthy fucking hands all over his woman. Was she screaming? Crying? Terrified? Begging? Being forced? Violated? Tortured? Was she even alive anymore?
God, he couldn’t stand not knowing.
Suddenly, Zy dropped a hand to his shoulder. “You’ve got to do something constructive. Gnashing your teeth and wishing death on whoever took her isn’t it.”
Trees had no idea what his friend meant until he realized he’d gripped the pedestal sink and, in impotent fury, pulled it from the wall. With a curse, he released the fixture, leaving it balanced precariously, and zipped past Zy, stomping his way to his home office. There, he grabbed a computer, stalked to the kitchen, and shoved all the broken glassware and china from the table with a sweep of his arm. He lifted the chair and emptied the shards from his seat, then plopped down and pried the machine open.
Where the fuck should he start? What scan could he possibly run that might lead him to Laila?
Apprehension gnawed at his gut as he stared at the blank screen with its blinking cursor. Traffic cams. Police communications. Maybe that would turn up something. Or maybe he should work backward, follow his hunch, and see if he could track Geraldo Montilla’s and Victor Ramos’s last known locations.
Trees launched multiple searches, then spoke to Zy without even looking his friend’s way. “Call the colonel for me. Ask him if he knows anyone on the Lafayette PD who’d be willing to put out a BOLO for Laila. Or better yet, report her kidnapping.”
