Belle sagged with a feeling of hopeful relief. She had to believe that Nancy would be all right, as well as Marta and Christie, too. She couldn’t give up hope on any of them. Not now.
Not ever.
CHAPTER 19
Salvatore stared at Christie where she lay on the floor, tied to the chair, near Carl’s body. Salvatore’s knuckles stung from hitting her and the side of her face was starting to swell and purple.
She stirred and moaned.
He crouched beside her. “Mi mariposa, you shouldn’t have said what you did. I had to teach you a lesson. You know that, don’t you?”
She mumbled something and he was afraid she was saying, “Monster,” again, but he didn’t want to hear that from her lips again.
His eyes narrowed. He looked at Paco and gestured to Christie. “Pick her up and keep her tied to the chair.”
Paco looked unfazed as he took the chair and raised it so that Christie was again in a sitting position. Paco was a cold-hearted killer and that’s what Salvatore needed. Paco didn’t care if his target was male or female. He just did his job. “Do you want me to take care of eliminating her?”
“No.” The words came out of Salvatore like pieces of ice. “I’ll deal with Christie when I’m ready.”
A smear of blood was on the floor where Christie’s head had hit the concrete. Salvatore’s gut churned involuntarily at the sight of her blood before he looked at his wife. She was dazed, blinking as if trying to regain focus.
Anger burned through him, making him hot enough to sweat beneath his shirt and trousers. She had driven him to hit her. She had provoked him. She was at fault for making him hurt her.
Salvatore stepped over Carl’s body and walked around the chair until he was standing behind Christie and saw that her long red hair was dark where it was matted with blood. It pained him to see the blood. He reached out to stroke the hair he’d always loved and she flinched away from his touch.
He trembled with a flash of rage and almost hit her again. Instead, he moved to face her. He picked up the piece of tape that he’d laid on the table earlier, the piece that had been across her mouth. He put the strip back over her mouth so she couldn’t speak the words that had cut him to his soul. If she said them again, he’d likely kill her right now.
“You’re a horrible, sick monster, Salvatore.”
Again the words chilled him.
He was not a monster. He was a businessman and this was all business. Mixed with a little revenge, he supposed. The damned CoS had always shut him out until Belle left. When she’d vanished, he’d hoped she had been kidnapped and that they’d find her body somewhere.
When Belle turned up years later and she and Christie had rekindled their close relationship, he’d been disappointed, but had put on a good show. Now the CoS had fucked up his life again and he was going to have to run. But first he’d make sure every last one of them died, preferably painful deaths.
His wife would be tortured by the agonizing deaths of her friends, and that would be pain enough for her. He’d be merciful and kill her quickly. Unless she provoked him again.
The look in her eyes when she’d called him a monster was unlike anything he’d seen from her before. He didn’t like the strength he’d seen in her expression. She had always been quiet and gentle around him, like a beautiful butterfly. Despite never giving him sons, she had balanced him and he’d loved her.
Now… He had to do what he had to do. He was moving on and she’d be pushed to the back of his mind, a memory that he would eventually forget. He’d already separated from her in some ways.
Until death do us part.
Their vows to one another at their marriage ceremony were written in stone. And that’s how it would end. With her departure from this life.
His private cell vibrated in his pocket, the one he’d used to set up the attack on the safe house. The one he used to conduct his real business.
He withdrew the phone from his pocket and looked at the display, expecting to see Oscar Garcia calling with the news that Marta was dead. Instead it was Jorge.
Cold washed over Salvatore. Jorge had been monitoring the situation with Oscar and Marta. That he was calling instead of Oscar could very well be bad news.
He bit out each word. “You have news for me?”
“Oscar is dead.” Jorge’s voice sounded flat, matter of fact. “Curtis killed Oscar after he smothered Marta and then strangled Belle.”
“Was he successful in killing Marta and Belle?” Salvatore’s voice rose. He saw Christie’s eyes widen and he realized his mistake by letting her know Belle had still been alive.
“No.” Jorge went on, “My resource says Belle stopped Oscar from finishing his job when she hit him with an object. He tried to murder Belle, but Curtis found them and killed Oscar before he could finish her off.”
“Fuck.” Salvatore spat the word. “I’ll talk to Rodrigo and get Davies on the job.”
“The feds have two agents on the room now,” Jorge said.
Salvatore’s hand shook. “Then Davies can bomb the fucking place.”
“The hospital is being watched from the outside. He wouldn’t be able to get close.”
Salvatore struggled to maintain his composure. It would not do to have Paco and Christie see him lose control. “I’ll get Rodrigo to lend me Davies to put on locating Leon and his family. I want you to track Curtis and Belle. Use whatever resources you need. Cost is no object.”
“I will take care of it,” Jorge said. “And I’ll get Rat on the job, too.”
“See that you do.” Salvatore disconnected the call. Rat was nothing more than a shithead, but he did as he was told and was generally useful.
Salvatore dialed the phone to reach El Verdugo to request Davies’s assistance. Rodrigo did not pick up.
Frustration ate through Salvatore’s stomach like acid. He left a brief message that he needed Davies, and then disconnected the call.
When Salvatore looked at Christie, she had her chin tilted up and that look in her eyes that he didn’t like. Not one bit. He’d always thought of her as that delicate butterfly he could crush if he chose to. She didn’t look crushed. She looked angry.
He stared at her. She didn’t look away.
Fury cut through his chest like a knife and he bent and clenched his fists on the tabletop. Nothing had gone as planned. Everything was falling apart and he had to pull it all back together.
He would, of that he had no doubt.
And every member of the CoS would die.
CHAPTER 20
It was the morning following the attack on the safe house, Christie’s kidnapping, and the attempt on Marta’s life.
Belle perched on the edge of the bed of the suite in the B & B, her hands braced to either side of her and her feet on the floor to keep herself grounded. Her skin felt chilled and her stomach tied in knots.
Nothing seemed real. It was all one big nightmare.
And then there was the secret she’d been keeping from Dylan.
She knew she had to tell him the truth. She’d put it off and put it off, and she knew there would be no perfect time to tell him.
Feeling overwhelmed, tears threatened at the backs of her eyes. She had to do it now. She’d waited too long.
Her thoughts whirled as Dylan used the bathroom in the suite they were staying in. The B & B was a large private home with two upstairs suites. Originally four bedrooms had been upstairs but they’d been converted into two suites when the new owners purchased the older home.
So much had happened since she got that first call from Dylan… Nate. Tom. Marta. Christie.
Marta’s guard had been doubled and another team was watching the hospital. The FBI was now working with DHS to find Christie as it was considered to be a kidnapping.
Belle pushed her fingers through her hair, shifted on the bed, then tried to sit still. She wanted to be out there, helping find Christie. Dylan would be leaving soon to do just that.
Before
he left, she had to come clean. After everything that had happened, she was going to hit him with a truth that would send him reeling. How was she going to do this?
The suites were nice and apparently rented out steadily, even though the owners did not advertise. Visitors to Bisbee learned about the B & B by word of mouth, and Dylan had decided it was an ideal temporary place to stay.
Agents had rented the two upstairs suites so no one was there but Dylan, Belle, and two agents Dylan trusted the most—Trace and Brooks. The owners kept to their private quarters and the kitchen on the bottom floor.
The two agents remained on guard in the hallway between suites, while Dylan stayed with Belle in one of them. G.I. Joe was in the front room near the door, sitting like a sphinx, his ears perked. He seemed to be intent on guarding them, especially after what had happened at the safe house. She wondered at how vicious he’d been to Salvatore and the other men, like he knew them. She had a feeling he did and that it had something to do with Nate.
Belle’s throat and neck ached from nearly being strangled. Her skin had bruised, the purple marks stark against her naturally pale skin. Before she left the hospital, an agent brought her a turtleneck sweater at Dylan’s request, which would help avoid notice of the bruises and avoid questions. Her eyes were red, a result of the near strangulation, but sunglasses had hidden the redness when she was in public.
She sighed, hating what she had to do. It was time—she had to tell Dylan everything. It was important that no secrets be kept between them.
When he’d finished in the bathroom, he looked distracted. “I hope to hell we have the warrant to search Salvatore and Christie’s home by now.”
He frowned as he saw Belle and sat beside her on the bed. “Something’s on your mind.” His gaze was intense. “And it’s not just what’s been happening. There’s something else, isn’t there.” The last part he said as a statement, not a question. Like he somehow knew she’d been keeping something from him.
She looked down at her lap and saw that she was wringing her hands. She raised her eyes and met his gaze.
He skimmed her neck with his fingertips, a light feathery touch. “I hate seeing what that bastard did to you.”
“Really, I’m okay.” Belle sighed. “I’m lucky. I’m not like Marta, in a coma, with a gauge sticking out of my head.” She swallowed. “And I’m not missing like Christie.”
“What happened is nothing to dismiss, Belle.” He cupped her cheek. “I haven’t been so scared since…”
“Since I left in high school. I don’t know if I can ever apologize enough for doing that to you the way I did.” Belle bit her lower lip a moment before she continued. “I need to tell you something important that was one of the reasons I left. You might hate me for not telling you sooner.”
Dylan frowned. “I could never hate you, Belle.”
Her throat hurt more when she swallowed, and it was as if she could still feel the man’s hands around her neck. “I will be honest. I can’t say that I regret not telling you when you were a teenager. You could have ended up in jail, because you might have killed my stepfather.”
Dylan’s voice was harsh, anger clear in his expression. “Your stepfather deserves whatever he gets for what he did to you.”
“You didn’t deserve to go to jail.” She looked away a moment before meeting his gaze again. “And you still don’t. What I’m going to tell you might make you want to kill him even more. Please promise me you won’t go after him.”
“What’s going on?” Dylan’s entire body seemed to go tense. “What is it that you need to tell me?”
For a moment she held her breath. Just get it out.
She let it out in a rush as she said, “My stepfather was responsible for your dad’s death. Harvey killed your dad.”
The shock that crossed Dylan’s face sent a sharp pain through her chest. But the mask that replaced it scared her even more. It was like he’d shut down his emotions, shut her out.
His voice was hard, his expression even harder. “Explain.”
She gripped his arm as if that might keep him from being lost to her altogether. “Promise me you won’t go after Harvey yourself.”
His arm vibrated beneath her touch, as if he was holding back every bit of anger he’d stored up since his father’s murder. “Tell me.”
“I overheard everything when my mother and Harvey talked about it. Before my mom died.” Tears welled up in Belle’s eyes. “The Jimenez Cartel put a hit out on your dad. My stepfather carried it out for the money. It was the one time I saw my mother stand up to him and tell him he shouldn’t have done it. He hit her hard enough to knock her out. I slipped out the back door so he wouldn’t know I’d overheard, in case he planned to take it out on me, too.”
Dylan looked away. His entire body had gone rigid. “You should have told me.”
His words were a cold slap. She’d expected it, but reality was far worse than what she’d ever imagined.
Then he did something that totally took her by surprise. He braced his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands.
“Dylan.” She placed her hand tentatively on his shoulder. “I’m sorry. I really am. But you understand why I didn’t tell you, don’t you?”
He said nothing. She stroked his shoulder as he remained silent. “I’m sorry. Can you forgive me?”
After a long moment he raised his head, his forearms resting on his thighs as he stared forward, his eyes focused on something she couldn’t see. Like a memory.
A cold look hardened his face and she jerked her hand back from his shoulder as if she’d been scalded.
When he turned to her, his eyes were slightly red but she saw no tears, only a mask that now shuttered his expression.
“Dylan?” She didn’t know what to do. “I understand you being angry with me. But please don’t go after Harvey by yourself. Do what you have to do to arrest him. But—”
When Dylan spoke, it was slow, measured, as if he was trying to maintain his calm. “I’m going to leave you here with Trace and Brooks. I trust them and they will protect you.”
“Take one of them with you, please.” She didn’t care that she was begging. “They can help you take him into custody. I’ll testify against Harvey. I’ll do anything you need me to. Take me with you.”
Dylan got to his feet and she rushed to stand, too. He gripped her shoulder with one big hand. “You will stay here.” His face was still a mask, but as he looked at her, she thought she saw his sharp edges soften ever so slightly. He leaned over and kissed her forehead before grabbing his duffel bag, turning and leaving the bedroom.
The kiss stunned her. She didn’t know if it was a goodbye kiss or something else entirely.
She hurried after him, fear for him making her heart ache as he strode to the door of the suite. “Please, Dylan.”
He grasped the doorknob and looked over his shoulder. “You’ll stay in the suite with Joe.” He opened the door. “I have some business to take care of.”
“Dylan.” Even as she called out his name, he shut the door behind him.
She wrenched the door open and saw him talking with Trace. Joe came up to stand beside her.
Dylan looked at her and pointed to the room. “Get inside.”
She set her jaw. “Come back.”
With the duffel bag over his shoulder, he turned and jogged down the wood staircase and vanished from sight. She started to follow.
So that she couldn’t chase Dylan, Trace stepped in front of her. “Go in the room, Belle.”
“You don’t understand.” Tears burned at the backs of her eyes. “He’s going after my stepfather. He wants to kill him. You have to stop Dylan.”
Trace frowned. “What do you mean, Belle?”
“He was already furious at my stepfather for hurting me.” Tears flowed down Belle’s cheeks. “But now it’s worse. I told him the truth.” Her throat felt like it was closing in on her. “My stepfather is the man who killed Dylan’s dad.”
Trace looked as if his entire body had gone tense. “That’s where Dylan is going? To your stepfather’s?”
“I don’t care about Harvey, but I care about Dylan. I don’t want him to end up doing something he’ll regret. Please stop him.” She twisted her hands together. “Harvey lives in Galena.” She gave Trace the address of the miserable home she’d grown up in.
“I’ll call for someone to get over here.” Brooks nodded to the stairs Dylan had just taken. “You go after Dylan.”
“Back in your room, Belle.” Trace’s Texan drawl seemed deeper as he spoke and gave her a firm look. “Stay with Joe. Brooks will be outside watching the room.”
“Okay.” She put her fingers in Joe’s fur as she pleaded with Trace. “Just hurry. Please.”
~~*~~
It was still early morning, not even eight yet, and it was all Dylan could do to keep from throwing on Trace’s SUV’s grill lights and siren. He wanted to race far over the speed limit as he headed the vehicle toward Harvey Driscoll’s home. But he needed the time to think and work out a plan before he arrived at the house.
The thought repeated over and over in his head. Driscoll murdered Dad. The bastard murdered my dad.
Too many things were happening all at once.
And Driscoll had murdered Dylan’s dad.
Driscoll had not only killed Dylan and Aspen’s father, but he’d taken away the man their mother had loved. For years she’d been haunted by Ben Curtis’s death, until she finally gave herself permission to move on.
Dylan’s skin burned and itched with fury. His face was flushed with heat. He gritted his teeth and clenched the steering wheel as he drove from Old Bisbee, around the pit mines, to the traffic circle, and then took the exit to Galena. The drive seemed to last forever. He wanted to get to the bastard who was responsible for so much goddamned misery and pain.
He wanted to kill Harvey with his bare hands. He could picture a dozen different ways he could kill the man. Make it look like an accident. Make it look like Harvey had killed himself.
No Mercy Page 20