The Vargas Cartel Trilogy: Books 1 - 3

by Lisa Cardiff

  After seconds that stretched like hours, he released my hands and I rolled to my side, my back to him.

  The bed dipped behind me, and he rested his hand on my hip. “You need to eat.”

  “For some unfathomable reason, I lost my appetite.” I kicked the tray, but it only budged an inch or two.

  “Nobody wants to see you hurt. As long as the U.S. government releases my brother, I’m happy to let you go. In fact, I’ll fly you first-class back to the U.S.”

  I rolled onto my back and stroked the tender skin of my neck. It’d be black and blue soon if it weren’t already. “You could’ve fooled me.”

  His lips pressed into a firm line, and he sighed in exasperation. “Just behave yourself and this whole thing will be infinitely easier for you. Don’t make waves.”

  Did he think I was stupid? I couldn’t believe any word that tumbled from his beautifully cruel lips. “Just let me go and I’ll talk to my dad. I’ll convince him to grant a pardon for your brother or whatever the hell else you want. I have to go home.” My heart pounded against the walls of my chest. “I have to be in school in a couple days. I can’t miss. I’m a teaching assistant. I have a few more months until graduation. I have an internship lined up this summer.”

  He slanted forward so his mouth was less than an inch from my ear. “Sorry, Hattie,” he murmured in a soft, soothing voice. “But I can’t have you complicating my plans. When Rever’s released, you’ll be released. Tit for tat. And even if I wanted to let you go, I couldn’t.”

  “Sorry?” I shook my head from side to side, strands of hair whipping across my face. “Sorry for what? Abducting me? Imprisoning me? Drugging me? Fucking me in a dirty alley?”

  A faint chuckled escaped his lips. “If I said all of the above, would you be happy? Or maybe I should apologize for everything but fucking you.” He cocked his head to the side, and a lock of midnight colored hair veiled his expressive eyebrows. “My memory is hazy, but I think you enjoyed it.”

  I gasped. Satisfaction curled his lips into a wicked smile, and my stomach rolled in giant waves. “Shut up. Just shut up. You’re an asshole.”

  His lips twitched, and he folded his arms across his chest. “So I’ve been told.”

  “I hate you.”

  He brushed a kiss across my forehead. An unwelcome heat spiraled through my body and my heart squeezed. My reaction didn’t make sense, so I mentally chalked it up to the trauma of the last few weeks—starting with catching Evan cheating, and ending with my abduction.

  “No, you don’t,” he drawled as he rose from the bed.

  “I don’t want to see you again. Can’t someone else take care of me?”

  He raised one eyebrow, a quick up and down motion that made me uneasy. “Who? Caesar?”

  “Caesar? Who’s he?”

  “The man who tried to squeeze the life out of your neck a few seconds ago. Or maybe you’d prefer my father. I have a hunch you wouldn’t like him very much either…he has a notoriously bad temper. Do want some tea or broth?”

  What the hell? I blinked. “What?”

  “Your throat is probably sore from Caesar’s attentions. Tea or broth might be better than solid food.”

  “I’ll have tea with some whiskey.”

  He shook his head. “Sorry. It’s not on the menu. Alcohol could make you more volatile, and it’s not good for you anyway.”

  “Lots of things aren’t good for me…like being locked in a cell, the lack of sunlight, being molested, but you don’t seem to care about any of those things.”

  He scoffed. “You haven’t been molested. Far from it.”

  Heat poured into my face as memories of the night in the bar with him flashed through my mind, taunting me with my stupidity. I turned to the side hoping he wouldn’t notice.

  “Are you blushing?”

  “Hardly.” I rolled my eyes. “Thanks to your buddy, Caesar, I don’t feel well.”

  “If you say so,” he replied. “Have a good night.” He opened the door.

  “What about the tea or the broth?” I reminded him, my voice panicked. Even though I didn’t like him, I didn’t want to be alone. I’d go crazy staring at the walls for hours without anything to do.

  “I’ll see what I can do.”

  He slammed the door behind him without glancing back.

  “Dammit,” I screamed, and the vibration raked like fire over my sore throat. I threw my pillow at the door. Tears flooded my eyes, clouding my vision. I was sick of crying and being sad. Fate had screwed with my life, and I didn’t know if anything would feel right or safe again.

  Chapter Ten

  Life rolled on and without a window or a clock, I didn’t even know how many days had passed. A week was my best guess, but then again, I stopped counting after three days of confinement.

  A man who never talked or made eye contact brought me three meals and escorted me on three bathroom breaks every day. When I asked him questions, he stared right through me. I even tried communicating in my rusty Spanish. My attempt didn’t make a difference. Apparently, someone—most likely Ryker—told him not to talk to me. He delivered some books a couple days ago. They weren’t something I’d normally read, but it was better than staring at the walls.

  I craved conversation and contact. Yesterday, I started singing songs at the top of my lungs—dumb songs designed to annoy everyone in hearing distance. First, I belted out cornball nursery rhymes like the “Wheels on the Bus” and the “Ants Go Marching.” I liked these two songs because they allowed me to invent new verses to the tune. When I found myself talking about the drunks on the bus, I figured I should move on.

  Move on I did…with Eric Carmen’s “All by Myself” and Katy Perry’s “Roar.” Both songs appealed to me given my situation. One spoke to my loneliness, and the other became a theme song about breaking out my prison. I didn’t know all the lyrics, but I improvised where necessary. As a bonus, I liked the idea of subjecting Ryker to my ramblings, because I had a feeling they would annoy the shit out of him.

  “Get dressed,” Ryker demanded one morning after I finished eating my breakfast.

  I scanned my outfit. I had on the same dress I wore yesterday, not that my clothing selections were important. I didn’t have anyone to impress. “I am dressed.”

  With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, he scanned the length of my body. “You wore that dress yesterday.”

  “How would you know?” I didn’t look up from my book.

  “Cameras.”

  Time froze as my mind swam in circles. “Cameras?” Somehow I found my voice, but it was small, barely above a whisper.

  “Yes, cameras.” He tilted his head to the side, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lush lips. “You know what those are, right?”

  I wanted to say something cutting, but anger and shock prevented me from forming the words. While I was locked in a cave-like room, Ryker apparently scrutinized my movements as though I were a rat in a lab experiment. How long before Hattie lost her mind? “You’re a sick bastard.”

  “I’ve heard that before. Let’s go.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “We’re making a proof of life video, or in this case, a proof of life live video conference.”

  “That’s dumb,” I declared standing up.

  “How do you figure?”

  “I’m sure there’s a way to trace the call and then they’ll come for me. What are you using? Skype?”

  He chuckled. “It’s not Skype, just something similar with many layers of encryption.”

  “That doesn’t mean they can’t circumvent it.”

  “They could, but it will take at least seven minutes to break the encryption technology if they’re good. Longer if they don’t know what they’re doing, and the exchange won’t last long anyway.” He held out his hand to me.

  “So it’s a live stream.” Ignoring his hand, I brushed by him. I probably had about thirty seconds of saying whatever I wanted before they stopped me or tu
rned off the video stream. I intended to make good use of the time even if Ryker and his minions punished me later. Given my solitary confinement in a windowless room, I didn’t have much information to provide, but I refused to read from some worthless script where I begged my dad to comply with my captors’ terms.

  “You think you’ll be able to give them useful information,” he said. A ghost-like laugh escaped his mouth as he wrapped his hand around my neck, guiding me out the door.

  Screw him. He was always one step ahead of me, but that knowledge only fueled the fire raging inside of me to find a way to circumvent him. “Maybe,” I replied.

  He guided me through the shadowed hallways of the house that served as my prison for the past week. When we reached the front door, he pulled a rope from the pocket of his black pants and dangled it in front of my face. “Do I need this or will you be a good girl?”

  My body begged with me to resist everything he wanted and try to escape, but with him trailing beside me, I wouldn’t get far. In the end, he’d catch me, and he’d make my life much worse than it already was. If I did this chat, maybe it would improve my dad’s chances of finding me or securing my release in the near future. I held out my hands to him. “Do whatever you want. With or without the restraints, I can’t go far.”

  “You’re right. I’ll find you.” He stuffed the rope back in his pocket and opened the door. “Now walk.”

  The minute I stepped outside the front door, my eyes screamed from the sudden onslaught of bright light. I’d spent over a week in a dark, cavernous room, and my eyes didn’t appreciate the sudden change. Ryker’s hand circled the back of my neck again.

  “We’re going to the villa to do the little video chat.”

  I nodded as my vision came into focus. Less than fifty yards in front of me, I saw a large, white stucco villa with sweeping arches and a terra cotta colored tile roof. It had to be at least three stories with a picturesque columned front patio. I glanced over my shoulder to see the building where Ryker kept me. Like the villa, it was white stucco, but it didn’t have any windows—at least on the front of the building—and resembled a shed in comparison to the villa.

  “What am I supposed to say to my dad?” I asked as Ryker pushed open an oversized, intricately carved wooden door.

  “I don’t think we’ll be talking to your dad today.”

  I halted, and Ryker’s body brushed against my back. Every inch of his heated body pressed into my back. I trembled. “Why not?”

  His hand dropped from my neck and swept around my waist. “Your dad isn’t our main point of contact.”

  I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the way his spicy scent wrapped around me, infiltrating my lungs, making me dizzy. “Then why are we bothering? I can’t imagine many other people have a sufficient interest in securing my release in exchange for your brother.”

  “Senator Deveron,” he breathed next to my neck. “Does his name ring any bells?”

  “What?” I seethed through clenched teeth. “Why would he care?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I don’t know. You’re the man with the answers.”

  He whirled me around to face him, his thumb stroking the soft, still bruised skin of my throat. I swallowed hard. As usual, his touch unnerved me, and I tensed my muscles so I didn’t melt into him.

  “He and his son are very interested in your safe return. In fact, their level of interest makes me question your little breakup story.”

  I shrugged, feigning indifference even as my heart raced at the thought of seeing Evan’s face in a few minutes. Mixed…was the only word applicable to my jumbled emotions. Relieved he cared, angry he came to my rescue when my dad didn’t or couldn’t, and embarrassed I had sex with the man who kidnapped me. I hoped Evan didn’t know that dirty fact because I intended to take it to my grave. “Why do you care whether we broke up or not?”

  A wry smile lit the sharp angles of his face. “I don’t care either way, but I need accurate information in order to fully understand the situation and react accordingly.”

  I turned my head to the side, unable to look at his face for one more second. “Right, I’m just part of your job…another chess piece to move and manipulate as needed to achieve the desired outcome.”

  “You’re wrong.” His fingers cradled my face, turning my chin so I had to look into his stormy gray eyes again.

  “Wrong about what?” I whispered the words almost to myself.

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes,” I said even as I shook my head.

  “Even if I met you at a different time in a different place, I would have pulled you out of that bar and fucked you against the wall, except it wouldn’t have ended there,” he drawled.

  “It wouldn’t have?” I said, mesmerized by his deep voice.

  He shook his head. “I would have brought you back to my hotel and caressed every inch of your skin with my hands and my mouth until I burned you into my mind, and you had enough orgasms to last a lifetime. And then, I would have woke you up a few hours later to start all over again.”

  Holy shit. My knees felt weak, and I swayed into him as my body warred with my mind to collect on his promise.

  “Breathe, Hattie. Breathe,” he said.

  I sucked in a deep breath. “You really want that? With me?” I whispered, the words barely audible.

  He trailed a finger down my neck along my collarbone to the top of my breast. A fevered tremor tore through my body. “Of course,” he answered without hesitating.

  “Then, why don’t you do it?” Even as the words tumbled from my lips, my mind pleaded with me to take them back. I couldn’t be with him again. Ever. It was sick, twisted, and depraved I had even considered it. I should slap him across the face, but I didn’t.

  “I can’t. Your life is waiting for you, and when you’re safely ensconced in your bed with Evan in a week or two, you don’t need to have any more regrets weighing you down.”

  “Why don’t you let me decide what regrets I’m willing to live with?” I needed to sew my mouth shut.

  A devastating grin had slid across his face before he laughed. His eyes crinkled at the corners, and a faint dimple made an appearance on the right side of his face. For a split second, I forgot to be offended, but then the sensual haze cleared.

  “Don’t patronize me.” Jesus, what was wrong with me? My mind and body battled over him even as he laughed at the expense of my sanity.

  He disguised his mouth with a quick swipe of his hand. “I’m not. Believe me, I like your enthusiasm, but it’s better if I don’t touch you again. In a couple months, I’ll be a distant memory, and you won’t even remember the color of my eyes.”

  “Maybe,” I prevaricated as I shook my head. Whether or not this was the last instant I ever touched him or saw his face, I’d never forget him. I wished it weren’t true. Trust me, the thought of five or ten years elapsing and still having wandering thoughts of Ryker—his sensual lips, his sexy grin, and the feel of his warm body pressed against mine—struck an apoplectic fear deep in my already wounded heart.

  He dropped his hand from my body, I whimpered from the loss. “It’s time to do the proof of life live feed.”

  “Do I have to read a script for them?”

  “No. Just answer their questions. Nothing you say will change the outcome,” he said mildly. He opened the double door in front of us and held out his hand. “After you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I froze mid-step as I entered the room. The only two faces I’d seen since becoming a prisoner were in the room, plus another older man, flanked by two overweight men with machine guns draped over their shoulders.

  “Hattie,” Ryker said, resting the palm of his hand on my back. “You’ve met Caesar, and Javier.”

  So, Javier was the man who had brought me food and escorted me to the bathroom the past week. “Not officially,” I mumbled folding my arms across my chest, glaring daggers at Caesar.

  If Ryker heard me
, he didn’t bother acknowledging the comment. “And this,” Ryker pointed to the man sitting behind the desk with graying hair, “is Ignacio Vargas.”

  The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end when my eyes met his. His eyes were black, blank, and devoid of any emotion except maybe hate, but maybe not even that. Looking at him was like staring into the abyss. Ignacio was Ryker’s dad and the head of the Vargas Cartel. As much as I would’ve liked to ignore their connection, meeting him deprived me of the option. Ice crystals formed in my blood. This is what it’s like to look into the eyes of a killer, my mind whispered.

  “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Ignacio said in perfect but heavily accented English. “I’m sorry we couldn’t chat earlier, but I had other business monopolizing my attention.” Standing up, he turned his attention to Ryker. “We should get started. Senator Deveron is waiting for our call.”

  “We need to discuss how this is going to work,” Ryker declared.

  Ignacio cut him off with an abrupt wave of his hand. “Miss Covington is going to answer a few questions. That’s it, and I’m short on time today. We need to expedite this.”

  “Of course,” Ryker replied as he slipped into the chair at the desk. His hands flew over the computer keyboard for a few minutes. Then, he stood up again and motioned to the chair. “Hattie, take a seat.”

  I didn’t want to see Evan or his dad. I was afraid they would know what I did with Ryker…what I still wanted to do with him. It took all of my self-control not to flee from the room and run as fast and hard as my legs could carry me out of the villa and on the road to freedom. I retreated, taking a few anemic steps back, and one of Ignacio’s guards lifted his gun. Shit. I wouldn’t even make it out the door, much less out of the villa. I buried my shaking hands in the folds of my dress and settled into the chair.

  Ryker squeezed my shoulder, then relocated to a chair across the room. Ignacio quickly took his place behind me.

  “Senator Deveron,” Ignacio said as his image filled the computer screen in front of us. “Miss Covington is alive and well as you can see.” He rested his hands on my shoulders and my breath accelerated to an uncomfortable level. I didn’t want his hands on me. My skin crawled under his fingers, repulsion radiating from every pore.