His ears pricked when the younger federale posed that very question. “There are hundreds of Mexican nationals rotting in US prisons,” Rios said. “Why all the effort for one man?”
Espinoza crossed his arms over his chest. “That information is classified.”
Unfortunately, Ortiz chose that moment to return from the men’s room. Aware the American ATF agent spoke Spanish, the federales cut their conversation short.
After Ortiz took his seat, Espinoza switched to heavily accented English. “We were just discussing which of my agents will travel to Phoenix with you.”
Lopez gave his younger partner an appraising look. “Perhaps Agent Rios should go. He is a former tactical officer and has more experience with Salazar.”
Rios inclined his head to Lopez before turning hopeful eyes to his boss. Flag decided he would prefer to have Rios assist the team. Instinct told him he might use the man’s obvious attraction to Veranda Cruz to his advantage. When Espinoza showed signs of consenting, Flag nudged him along.
“I couldn’t understand what you three were saying while Agent Ortiz was gone,” Flag began, maintaining the façade of ignorance. “But we need a decision.” He gestured to Ortiz. “We’re wheels up in two hours.”
His comment had the desired effect.
Espinoza jabbed a beefy finger at Rios. “You will go.” He turned to Flag. “Agent Rios will also assist with the extradition process if Salazar is arrested on US soil.”
“I’m curious about your government’s interest in Salazar.” Flag tried for an offhanded tone. “Why so eager to drag him back before he does any time in the US?”
Espinoza’s smile held no mirth. “I do not question my orders.”
Flag pressed him. “We only have felony abduction and assault warrants out for Salazar. I’m aware your government is opposed to the death penalty, but those aren’t capital offenses. Salazar can’t get the needle.” He shrugged. “There’s no danger of us executing him before he’s returned to you. So what’s really going on? Why do you want Agent Rios to rush him back here?”
Espinoza dug a finger into his shirt collar. “He is wanted for murder in Mexico. I am not at liberty to say more, Agent Flag. I am sure you understand.”
Flag did understand. He was being stonewalled. Something was going on at the highest levels of the Mexican government. Whatever the situation, it involved Salazar. Which meant that it involved Hector Villalobos and his cartel. Mind racing, he eased back in his chair to figure out his next move.
18
Another tear coursed down Sofia Pacheco’s cheek. She peered at the clock hanging from a nail in the wall. In seven minutes, at the stroke of midnight, her fifteenth birthday would arrive. For years, she and her twin sister had dreamed of their quinceañera party. The beautiful ceremony was a rite of passage many Latinas took for granted, as she once had.
Not anymore.
For the past month, she’d been a captive in the Villalobos cartel’s West Phoenix armory, which also served as their main base, under the supervision of their computer expert, Ignacio. Others called him Nacho, but he made her call him “sir” to remind her of her place. She suspected he needed the reminder as much as she did. His lanky frame, boyish dimples, and side-swept hair gave him a youthful appearance, unlike the coyotes, whose thickset bodies spoke of manual labor and hard training. American born, Nacho had confided his true age to her last week. He was only nineteen.
He sat down next to her on the polished cement floor in the tiny workshop wedged in the corner of the building. “What’s wrong?” Nacho’s Spanish had a distinctly American accent. Concern filled his eyes as he wiped the teardrop from her face.
His unexpected kindness undid her, and she began to sob. “It’s almost my b-birthday. I m-miss my sister.”
Nacho stroked her hair. “Please don’t cry, Sofia.”
“Quit your sniveling and get back to work.” The icy female voice ripped Sofia out of her misery and slammed her into pure terror. Dashing the remaining droplets from her eyes, she looked up to see Señorita Daria standing in the doorway.
Nacho shot to his feet. “She’s got something in her eye.”
Sofia scrambled to stand on shaky legs.
“Don’t lie to me, Nacho. You should have hacked into the police server by now.” She strode into the room, head swiveling, scanning their work space. “Instead of doing your job, I find you getting cozy with the prisoner who’s supposed to assist you.”
A film of sweat broke out on his upper lip. “They’ve amped up their security, but we’re close.”
Daria turned her venomous glare on Sofia. “Maybe you’d actually get through the firewall if you didn’t have any distractions.”
“She’s helping me,” Nacho said.
“Is she truly helping?” Daria strolled over to Sofia. “Or is she slowing you down?” She reached out to cup Sofia’s quivering chin. Sofia flinched when Daria sank her lacquered nails into the soft flesh of her cheek.
Transfixed, Sofia looked into the beautiful face glowering down at her. She saw the sharp edge of cruelty lurking beneath the smooth surface. A whimper escaped her lips.
Still clutching Sofia, Daria gave Nacho a side-eyed glare. “You have twenty-four hours to hack into that server. If you aren’t in by then, you will be punished.” She dug her nails in harder. “Or perhaps your little protégé will. Would that bother you, Nacho? Have you become attached to her?”
Daria’s harsh laugh sent a chill through Sofia.
“We breached the Mexican Federal Police server,” Nacho blurted.
Daria dropped her hand and turned her full attention to him. “What have you learned?”
“They sent Agent Manuel Rios to Phoenix with two American Feds.” His eyes darted to the clock. “Should’ve landed at Sky Harbor about two hours ago.”
Daria tapped her foot. “When did you plan to tell me about this?”
“The next time I saw you.”
Daria seemed to consider the new information. “Before you do anything else, forward all data to my secure account. I’ll download it to my phone. Did you get his cell number?” At Nacho’s nod, one corner of her mouth tipped up. “Track his movements and monitor his calls. If Agent Rios is in town, he’ll work with Detective Cruz. Why put more of my men at risk when I can use technology to follow her?”
Nacho gestured to Sofia. “I’ll need help.”
When Daria bent to scrutinize her, Sofia fought the urge to cringe. She felt like a butterfly pinned to a board under the intense focus of those cold brown eyes.
Daria’s shapely brows knitted in scorn. “Have you been crying?”
She tried to respond but only managed a squeak.
“She’s upset,” Nacho said. “It’ll be her birthday at midnight.”
A calculating expression replaced Daria’s sneer. “How old?”
“Fifteen.” Sofia’s voice caught on the word.
Daria turned to Nacho. “Leave us.”
Nacho shot her an apprehensive glance before closing the door behind him.
Sofia’s fear bordered on panic. Alone in a cramped workshop with the most terrifying woman she’d ever met, her body began to tremble in earnest.
Daria regarded her thoughtfully before speaking. “You are feeling sorry for yourself because you can’t have your quinceañera.” She made it a statement. “Do you want to know how I spent my fifteenth birthday?”
The question caught her completely off guard. How should she answer? “Um, yes.”
“I’m sure you think I wore a pretty dress. That my father danced with me and presented me with my first high-heeled shoes. That all the other girls were jealous.” Daria let out a mirthless laugh. “Are you jealous, little one?”
Still unsure what to do, Sofia took her best guess and shook her head.
“Good,” Daria said. “Because
no ceremony at all is better than what I went through.”
The last words came out in a bitter rush. She realized Daria was about to reveal something about her past and waited, holding her breath.
Daria began to pace. “I’m the youngest of my father’s children and the only female.” She snorted. “If you only count his legitimate children, anyway.” She pivoted, turning her back to Sofia. “The night before my fifteenth birthday, my father called me to his office. He explained that I was about to become a woman in the eyes of my community. From the next day on, I would spend all of my free time with my mother, learning how to run a household. While my brothers learned to shoot, fight, and negotiate business deals, I would go to a beauty salon for a makeover. Once he deemed me compliant and pretty enough, he would begin looking for a suitable husband for me. Someone whose family could expand his business.”
Sofia’s mouth fell open and she snapped it shut. What century did El Lobo live in? He sounded medieval.
Still pacing, Daria continued her story. “I dared to argue for equal treatment with my brothers. My father explained why, in his opinion, women are not equal. They are smaller, softer, weaker than men. Their bodies are made for childbearing, not for fighting.” She shook her head. “I told him I would fight for my place among the men.”
Halting, Daria faced her. “He offered me a choice. To earn a stake in the family business like my brothers, I had to defeat one of his coyotes in hand-to-hand combat. There would be no weapons, only strength, skill, and cunning. And if I lost, he would allow the man to teach me what it was to be a woman.” Her eyes locked with Sofia’s. “My father had guarded my virginity until that day, but he would turn me over to one of his henchmen to keep me in my place.”
A chill slid down Sofia’s spine as she imagined herself in that situation. Daria had been raised by a monster. She struggled to identify the emotion tugging at her. Pity. Sofia had been born into poverty in a Mexico City barrio, yet she felt sorry for someone raised with everything wealth and prestige could offer. She would never again look back on her early years with disdain. Her family had little money, but an abundance of love.
“What did you do, Señorita Daria?”
Daria picked up a wrench from the dusty surface of a nearby workbench. “I agreed to my father’s terms. He tried to change my mind. Reminded me of the comfortable life I would have as a woman under his protection.” Her knuckles whitened as she gripped the hand tool. “But I stood by my choice.”
Sofia couldn’t believe her ears. What kind of teenaged girl willingly agrees to fight a grown man trained in combat? She recalled the times she’d been manhandled by the coyotes during her captivity over the past three months. They were burly, sweaty, smelly beasts. And they were strong.
Frown lines marred Daria’s smooth skin. “The next day, instead of having a quinceañera party, I fought for my future.” She laid the tool back down. “And I lost.”
Sofia sucked in a gulp of air and listened in horror.
“The night I spent with that foul brute was worse than anything you can imagine.” Daria’s voice dropped to a whisper, her expression bleak. “He went on for hours. Did disgusting things. I was innocent, but he showed me no mercy.”
Sofia’s hand flew to her mouth as she imagined Daria at her age. “How did you survive?”
“Every moment of his abuse, I plotted revenge. Purpose guided me. Rage gave me strength.” Daria’s gaze grew distant. “After he tired himself out, I waited until the asshole fell asleep, and I slit his throat. When my father found out, he congratulated me and welcomed me into his inner circle with my brothers.” She lifted her chin. “I had defeated my opponent after all.”
“Ay, dios mio.” Sofia could hardly grasp what Daria had suffered at just fifteen years old.
Daria seemed to snap back to the present, giving her a cagey look. “You came to Phoenix on a scholarship, yes?”
Last May, at the end of term, Sofia had qualified for a grant for inner-city youth from Mexico City to study computer science in Phoenix beginning in August. Her father had died the year before, and she figured they wouldn’t be able to afford the portion the families had to pay. By July, her mother had arranged the trip, taking her twin sister along.
Leery of the motive behind the abrupt change in subject, she kept her answer short. “Sí, Señorita Daria.”
“When my brother learned you had computer skills, he assigned you to help Nacho hack, but I see more potential in you.”
Resentment scorched her. Daria had glossed over the fact that she’d never been able to attend the promised advanced computer course. Snared by a Villalobos cartel trap, Sofia had been beaten, starved, and terrorized into serving them.
“One day, the Villalobos cartel will be mine,” Daria went on, seemingly unconcerned with Sofia’s suffering. “The organization is filled with stupid, arrogant bullies. In other words, men.” She chuckled at her own wit. “But I have ways to keep them under control.” She briefly closed her eyes and smiled. “Ways that bring me great pleasure.”
Sofia bit her lip. She’d overheard comments and seen dark looks exchanged among the men. But why was Daria discussing this with her? “Let me give you an example.” Daria tapped her chin with a slender finger. “I ordered three of my men to set up surveillance on a side road near Veranda Cruz’s family property. I told them to stay in the van on eight-hour shifts around the clock. All they had to do was wait until the bitch came to visit her mother, follow her out, see where she’s staying, and report back to me.” Daria planted a fist on her hip. “Simple, right?”
Sofia swallowed a gasp at the mention of a woman who had become her hero. Veranda Cruz was brave, resourceful, and smart. If Sofia could be like that too, maybe she could get away. Seven weeks ago, Veranda rescued Sofia’s sister and saved her mother from a horrible death. When Hector Villalobos found out what happened, he had punished Sofia for her sister’s escape. For the rest of her life, her scars would bear witness to El Lobo’s brutality. As they were meant to.
“Do you know where I just came from?” Daria asked, cutting off the stream of dark memories that always flowed close to the surface. Without waiting for a response, she grabbed Sofia’s wrist and tugged her to the closed door. “Come see.”
Panic blossomed, crowding out reason as Sofia’s heart pounded. Where was Daria taking her? What would happen when she got there? She stumbled from the room, directing an anxious glance toward Nacho as Daria hauled her past him.
“You’re not a child anymore,” Daria said, pulling her past a group of men stacking crates in the vast storage area. The men paused, following their progress across the expanse of concrete floor.
“Get back to work.” Daria’s sharp command sent them scrambling back to their tasks.
After navigating a short passageway, Daria yanked her in front of a closed door. Sofia knew this was the section of the building where Daria slept, but she’d never been inside. She watched as Daria slipped a key from her pants pocket and twisted it in the lock.
Hand on the doorknob, Daria turned to her. “I could use a trustworthy woman as my assistant. Someone loyal only to me. Someone who won’t fuck me.” She raised a brow. “In any sense of the word.”
Sofia wanted to say she’d rather die than willingly work for the cartel. Instead, she tried to appear tempted by the offer. “You are too kind, Señorita Daria. But I must return to my family.”
“You’re not going back, Sofia. Not ever.” Daria turned the knob and opened the door but didn’t enter, blocking Sofia’s view of the room beyond. “This is your life now. Make the best of it.” She picked up her conversation from the workshop. “The men I sent to tail Veranda Cruz didn’t follow my orders. The idiots saw her get out of her car without her gun, threw a plan together, and tried to grab her.” She sneered. “They got their asses kicked.”
Sofia clasped her hands together to prevent her fist fro
m pumping the air. She mentally promoted Veranda from hero to goddess.
Daria turned and stepped inside, beckoning her to follow. “This is what happens to men who fail me.”
Sofia’s mouth fell open in a soundless scream. At first, her mind refused to process what she saw. Her vision blurred, her teeth chattered, and a buzzing began in her ears. Gradually, the haze of shock lifted and she took in the scene in front of her.
Three naked men hung from chains stretching down from the ceiling to their shackled wrists. Apparently unconscious, the manacles held them upright as they slumped, knees buckled and heads lolled, forcing their purpled hands and upstretched arms to bear their weight. The long red stripes scoring their bare flesh brought her meager dinner to the back of her throat. Her own skin would forever bear the same marks. El Lobo had personally seen to that.
Sofia’s hand clutched her mouth, muffling an agonized wail, and she wondered at what point Daria had become her own father.
Either unaware or uncaring that Sofia had begun to sway on her feet, Daria continued. “You have a choice to make,” she said. “My father is in final negotiations on the purchase of a computer firm. Once he closes the deal, he’ll have all the tech support he needs. Nacho will lead the new employees, but you will become—as they say in business—redundant. Without any necessary skills, you’re just another woman.”
Sofia tore her gaze from the grisly display to look at Daria. “If I’m not useful, why won’t they just let me go?”
“I thought you were smart.” Daria let out a derisive snort. “You can make money for the cartel by working in the brothels.” She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t you see?” She paused for emphasis. “That was always the plan for you after my father found enough tech support.”
Sofia stood rooted to the spot. Snatches of overheard conversations, hungry gazes from the men, sympathetic glances from the women, clicked into place with sickening clarity.
Death Blow Page 12