HUNTED

by C. Luca

  One of the men glances at me, a look of disgust etched across his features. The sight of his repulsion brings great relief. Much better for them to find me gross than attractive, especially considering my lack of clothing.

  I’d also like to tell him it’s their own fault I’m a vomiting mess, but I wisely keep my mouth shut. No sense in drawing more attention to myself. As long as they’re over there ignoring me, it gives Kane time to find our location.

  Unfortunately, something is beginning to develop, because the three men walk over to me. I do my best to stay focused as I peer at them through my good eye.

  One of them still has his phone out, and he presses a button and shows me the screen, “Saluda a papi,” he mocks in Spanish.

  I blink and try to focus on the screen.

  A man’s face has appeared, and I realize it’s a video call. Tears spring to my eyes when I recognize my father. “Papi,” I breathe as the tears slip out and trail down my cheeks.

  He looks much older than I recall in my memories, but I’d still recognize him anywhere. His hair is mostly gray with only a few hints of dark brown, and it’s grown out and almost touches his shoulders. Gray whiskers hide his jaw, and the lines of his forehead and face are creased and weathered, but I recognize those dark brown eyes. They’re staring back at me with anguish as he realizes he’s staring at his only daughter.

  Before he can say anything, the phone is snatched away, and the man walks away from me. As he crosses the room, his voice begins to make demands.

  The brief moment of excitement over seeing my father for the first time in so many years vanishes as I realize the direness of the situation. These men found me to use against my father.

  I listen anxiously to the conversation even as I struggle against the never-ending nausea and heavy fatigue that has set in.

  A name reaches my ears.

  Diego.

  I wrack my mind, trying to figure out who Diego is—because apparently, he’s the one behind this mess.

  Wait…

  Quickly, everything begins to make sense.

  When I was a teen, I’d researched as much as I could about my father and the other Columbian crime figures to try to understand what happened and why.

  Diego Sotelo was small-time when my father went to prison. He wasn’t even the one that tried taking out my father and us, though at that point, he was already beginning to become a problem. At least enough of a problem to make a few news headlines.

  Throughout the years, he must have grown his organization. Now, he’s powerful enough to demand my father take out Alvaro Montes, my father’s greatest ally—who also happens to be my Godfather.

  My mind is racing as I frantically put together all the pieces of this dangerous game that is unfolding.

  Diego likely doesn’t want to risk his men or face the loss of a victory if he can’t take Alvaro out—who is still quite powerful these days. So instead, he wants my father to do the dirty work since he’s so close to the Montes cartel—even in prison.

  Fear trickles through my veins, because I know my father could most certainly arrange it. And with Alvaro out of Diego’s way, he gains an impressive amount of territory and power.

  The man on the phone is currently threatening my life if my father doesn’t make the arrangements to do as Diego orders. It’s a credible threat, but in reality, I’m dead either way. Once my father gives the order and Alvaro is dead, so am I. He has to know that as well.

  “Don’t do it!” I call out weakly, hoping my voice carries through the phone.

  The man closest to me slaps me across the face, and the room spirals out of control. I swear stars dance inside my head as my stomach turns over.

  I lean over as far as my tied wrists will allow as I throw up once more, the sound of my vomit hitting the linoleum reaching my ears.

  The man beside me makes a disgusted sound, and I think I hear him back away from me.

  The slap either disoriented me or caused me to pass out, because the next thing I know, I hear the unmistakable sounds of gun silencers going off, and shouting.

  Something major is happening, and I struggle to see through my good eye.

  Kane suddenly squats in front of my chair, and through my blurry vision, I see him reaching for me. His arms wrap around me as he presses the gentlest of kisses against my forehead. The sensation of his arms wrapping around me, holding me safely, has never felt so good.

  “I’ve got you, Tessa. I’ve got you,” he says, his voice thick with emotion.

  I close my good eye, a tear dripping down my cheek. “I knew you’d come for me,” I say hoarsely as all the earlier horror begins to fade.

  “Always,” he vows.

  I feel him ease back, and I open my eye and watch as he unties my wrists.

  While he works on releasing me, I peer around the room. The men holding me captive are dead, and two of Kane’s men are standing nearby, watching us with odd expressions.

  Then, I recall my father.

  Alarm engulfs me, cutting through the hazy fatigue.

  “My father, Kane! He can’t kill Alvaro. It’ll start an all-out war,” I say anxiously as I clutch his arm. Many innocent people will die if my father follows the orders he’d been given.

  Kane nods curtly and rises to his feet, walking over to the fallen man who had the phone. He picks it up off the floor and comes back to me. He gives me a warning look. “Ten seconds, Tessa.”

  “Okay,” I say readily, impatient to set things right so others like myself won’t get caught in the crossfire of a cartel war.

  Kane presses a few buttons, and then the screen flickers to life. He turns the phone towards me so I can see better.

  My father’s face has filled the screen. “Adriana,” my father says, choking on emotion as his eyes roam over my battered face.

  “Don’t do it. The men you hired came for me. I’m safe,” I assure him as I try to commit every feature and line of his face to my memory.

  Relief shines across my father’s features, and then his face softens. “Te quiero—”

  The screen goes black as Kane ends the call.

  My mouth falls open as I instinctively try to reach for the phone in his hand. “Call him back!” I say desperately as Kane hands the phone off to one of his men. There’s so much more I need to say!

  Kane leans over me so that his face is level with mine. “No number of seconds would have ever been enough. We need to go,” he says simply.

  How can he be so cruel? “Kane—”

  “Now,” he cuts in, his voice hardening to steel. “We have to leave.”

  He carefully picks me up, and I just don’t have it in me to argue further as the fatigue overwhelms me.

  Twenty-six

  Kane

  While Tessa sleeps heavily, I continue meticulously pulling splinters out of her foot. During the flight to a rental cabin in Pennsylvania, I’d done what I could for her injuries.

  Her foot had to wait until we were on solid ground, though. I hadn’t wanted to be pulling out splinters in the middle of hitting turbulence, possibly pushing slivers deeper into her skin by accident.

  Everything else I’d been able to assess.

  Concussions are tricky injuries, and everyone reacts differently to them. During the flight, I’d checked Tessa’s pupils, and made certain there wasn’t any drainage coming from her nose or ears. She appears to be fine but suffering from drowsiness.

  Thankfully, I know enough about concussions to know that the drowsiness isn’t anything to worry over. That is unless she begins showing other symptoms that would raise alarm.

  We’d arrived at the cabin only a short twenty minutes ago, and the sun is just beginning to peek up over the horizon of the mountains. While Leo inspects all the rooms and makes mental notes of all that we’ll need, I’d settled Tessa into a large bed.

  While she sleeps, I use a small tweezers to pull out the tiny thorns embedded into her skin.

  She must have stepped in a sandbu
r patch, and as I remove another tiny sliver, my jaw clenches. I’m pissed that Tessa was injured during the escape that I had planned. Granted, I can’t control the actions of others, but every time I look at Tessa, I become angry all over again.

  The entire side of her face is swollen and turning a dark, ugly bluish-purple. If it weren’t for the severity of the bruising and swelling, I’d be more concerned about her fatigue. But because of the pain she’ll be in when she does finally shake off the drowsiness, I am thankful she’s been given a reprieve. Otherwise, I’d be giving her painkillers left and right. Not to mention her knee is probably no better.

  Even as I deal with my frustration over things going awry, I do feel a sense of satisfaction that those sent after Tessa are now all dead. We’re pretty certain we got them all. Naturally, there’s a chance more will be sent to the U.S, but they’ll have a difficult time trying to find Tessa. Especially since it’ll take time for a new team to be assembled.

  Just to be on the safe side, we’re going to lay low here in Pennsylvania for about six weeks. Then, we’ll get Tessa situated somewhere with a new identity.

  Suddenly, my chest feels tight and painful at the thought.

  Saying goodbye to Tessa is going to be difficult, and I am dreading it. Although, it also might turn out to be easier than I imagine if she holds a grudge over my ending her video call with her father.

  The reminder makes me wince, and I set down the small tweezers to give my fingers a momentary break as I flex them.

  She’d looked up at me with such accusation when I’d ended the call.

  Damn it.

  I wish I could have given her the time that she’d needed to have that closure with her father, but we had to get the hell out of that house. It was imperative that we put as much distance between the house and us as possible.

  Taking the phone with, or making note of the number wouldn’t have helped matters, either. The phone was likely bugged. And if Tessa had tried to resume her phone call with her father at a later date, it would have put her at risk all over again. You never know who is intercepting that kind of shit, especially in prison.

  At least she had the chance to hear him tell her that he loved her, and I am hoping that’ll ease some of her anguish when she becomes alert and remembers everything.

  Currently, when she does stir, she’s confused with no recollection of the kidnapping. Instead, she simply feels pain and knows I’m there. Even while she’s hurting, she has still managed to smile sleepily at me a few times.

  My gaze lifts to peer at her.

  She looks like a battered angel sleeping in the big bed. Her hair is spread out across the cream-colored pillow, and she’s sleeping peacefully beneath a light sheet and floral comforter. Only her foot peeks out from the sheets, and I have it propped on my lap as I tend to it.

  As I study her, I find myself wishing things were different. I wish I was younger, perhaps leading a different life—one of stability. I would love to give her everything she deserves, but I can’t.

  No matter how I feel, I’m going to have to let her go.

  I hear footsteps coming down the hall just outside the bedroom, and I glance at the open doorway as Leo appears. He lingers in the threshold, his eyes drifting to Tessa.

  “How is she?” he asks quietly.

  “Same as before.”

  He nods. “I’m headed to the store to pick up everything you both will need.”

  “Make it quick,” I warn.

  “I will.”

  Once he’s out of sight, I turn back to Tessa. Six weeks is all I have left with her. When that six weeks is up, I will assign one of the others to keep an eye on her for the next year or so until we’re certain she’s in the clear.

  Before I can begin to make plans though, I need to learn more about who is after her. We have a name now, but I’m not familiar with Diego Sotelo. I have quite a bit of research to do once I’m finished tending to Tessa.

  Plenty of decisions need to be made, and I can’t make them until I know more about who I’m dealing with.

  Twenty-seven

  Kane

  I make my way throughout the spacious cabin before exiting through the kitchen door that leads out to the deck overlooking the lake. The view from here is incredible, but it’s lost on me today.

  It’s been almost two days since we’d saved Tessa. She’s mostly been sleeping while I closely monitor her to make certain her concussion symptoms don’t become worse.

  I’ve spent hours watching her sleep.

  As I brace my hands on the deck railing, a grimness comes over me as I stare out over the calmness of the lake. With Tessa feeling as confined as she had in the loft and trailer, I’d thought she’d enjoy the seclusion of the cabin and the fresh air.

  Fuck.

  Mounting frustration has taken over deep within me, and my teeth grind together as I come to terms with this new turn of events. Tessa was supposed to unwind here while I built her a new identity and figured out where she should make a new life.

  That’s not going to happen now, at least not as I’d planned.

  Diego Sotelo is too powerful to give up on Tessa. In fact, now that he’d had her briefly in his clutches, he’ll continue to send others for her. He’ll never give up his pursuit of her so that he can take out Alvaro Montes the easy way.

  There’s always the chance that Tessa’s father or Alvaro might try to take Diego out, but I’m not betting on it. If I were them, I’d let the bastard suffer the loss and feel like a fool. Besides, even if Diego was taken out, someone new would inevitably take his place and retaliate.

  It would be a bloodbath.

  After everything we’ve done to free Tessa from her past, the threat against her hasn’t lessened.

  It burns me to know that I can’t build her the kind of life that she deserves. She’ll forever be on the run, because Diego will never stop looking for her.

  Damn it.

  She craves normalcy—a place to put down roots, and I can’t make that happen.

  I release the railing, and my hands tighten into fists.

  How the hell am I supposed to assign someone else to watch over her when I know the danger is still as real as it had been just forty-eight hours earlier?

  The moment I’d realized Tessa had been taken, I’d come to understand just how much I care for her. How am I supposed to walk away when just the thought makes my gut twist?

  Twenty-eight

  Tessa

  Today’s the day I’m climbing out of this bed, I think to myself with determination.

  I’ve been sleeping for what feels like days, and as much as I love the view outside the bedroom window, I would like to explore the cabin further. I’m aware that we’re in Pennsylvania, but I haven’t had the energy to leave the confines of the bed unless it was to use the bathroom.

  This constant fatigue has been aggravating, yet it’s been nice to sleep away the headaches by escaping into oblivion. Today though, I feel it’s time to venture out of the room and find out what comes next.

  It would be wonderful to have an entire conversation with Kane, one that I’ll remember. Everything that has happened since our arrival here has been nothing but a vague memory.

  Today, I am much more alert and ready to face reality.

  As I ease aside the bedsheets and carefully climb out of bed, I wince. My knee is painfully stiff from lying in bed for so long, and my right foot is very tender when I put my weight on it.

  As I slip on a short bathrobe over my tee shirt and panties, I painfully limp across the room as I struggle to push aside my lingering resentment over Kane not giving me more time with my father. Now that the fatigue is beginning to pass, I am able to recall more of the events that had taken place.

  My stomach feels heavy with regret, and a deep ache has continued to persist within my chest. I badly want to be able to see my father’s face once more, to tell him that I love him. I yearn for that connection, but I also know that my chance has passed, and
I have to find a way to live with it. My life depends on never seeing or speaking to him, I get that.

  Instead of dwelling on what I can’t have, I grimace over how I probably look. My hair feels tangled, and I’m certain my still swollen and bruised eye and temple are an ugly sight.

  The skin is still so puffy that I can’t see out of that eye.

  I believe Kane told me there hadn’t been any significant damage that I should be concerned about, but I’ll have to have that conversation with him again. As I said, any recollections of conversations lately are hazy.

  I push aside all thoughts on my appearance as I pull open the door to the bedroom. With all my aches and pains, I decide I’m not in the mood to care.

  Stepping into the hall for the first time feels like an accomplishment after being bedridden. Kane’s been bringing me my meals, so this is the first time that I’m seeing the cabin.

  The Band-Aids on the bottom of my foot feel weird on the hard floor as I take my time looking around while I limp down the hallway.

  This place is really nice.

  The hall is simple with wood flooring and beige walls. Scenic forest scenes are framed and hang several feet apart, warming the atmosphere. As I continue down the hall, I note an open doorway and peek into it.

  It’s a bedroom similar to the one I’ve been staying in. The room boasts warm, wood walls and a giant window revealing the large lake and picturesque mountains in the distance. All the furniture is Maple wood, and the accent colors are forest green. This room appears masculine, whereas the room I’m staying in has a rustic floral theme.

  I turn away and continue further down the hall.

  Movement sounds to the right, where the hall opens into two different doorways. Through the door to the left is a massive room with an elaborate, stone fireplace and floor to ceiling windows revealing the gorgeous scenery outside.

  To the right, is the kitchen, and this is where I find Kane.