Wire - (Wrong #3)

Home > Other > Wire - (Wrong #3) > Page 10
Wire - (Wrong #3) Page 10

by LP Lovell


  I stroke her hair back from her face and lean in, placing my lips to hers. This kiss isn't hard or ruthless. It's tame and reverent—something reserved for goodbyes, and I'm afraid she can feel that. My lips brush gently against hers and her grip on my arms tighten as she chokes back a sob. I don't want to stop. I want to kiss her for-fucking-ever because I know I won't ever get to do this again. Cayla. One last touch of Tor’s lips, one last sweep of her tongue, and I rip myself away from her, staring down into her steel-blue eyes.

  "I love you, Jude," she whispers.

  "And I fucking love you too, doll." I take one last look at my Tor, drinking in the way her blonde hair falls over her shoulders, her eyes, her fucking smile. I burn this last glance at her into my memory choking back the words I want to say. The goodbye I want to tell her: that she changed my life. That I would never change having her and Cayla. That she is what made me fucking real and before that I was just lost. But I can't, so I smile at her. "God, I fucking love you." And turn around, opening the door and stepping out into the bright-ass sun and closing the door behind me.

  ***break***

  The shitty little plane hits the shitty little runway hard and my water spills in my lap. A few minutes later and I'm walking down the stairs of the private jet. A black Hummer is parked to the side of the runway with the engine running. A tall man in a gray suit steps out from the driver's side. Tattoos cover the side of his neck. "Corredar de apuestas," he says with a laugh as he approaches. "The bookie."

  I glare at him. Handing yourself over to death so easily is a shit feeling, but I would do anything for my daughter. I had two years of freedom I never deserved. For two years, I was able to hold her, love her, and Tor…Death comes for us all at some point, I accepted that long ago, but it still fucking sucks.

  "Arms up," he says as he stops in front of me, the heavy scent of his cologne assaulting my nose. I raise my arms and he pats me down, snatching the gun from my waist with a smirk. "Really?" he asks, shrugging.

  He grabs me by the arm and yanks me forward, and I follow him toward the car. The closer we get I can make out another man sitting in the backseat. When we’re just a few feet away, he throws open the door and steps out, and the guy escorting me shoves me inside. Groaning, I lean against the leather seat while the fucking Neanderthal climbs in beside me and slams the door.

  "Jesús is gonna be real happy, mi amigo," the driver says as he puts the car in drive and slowly pulls off. He turns the radio up and some Mexican rap music blares through the speakers, rattling the tinted windows. I watch the little Mexican flag strung from the rearview mirror waver. We barrel down the dirt road, down along a hillside, past rundown buildings covered in graffiti. When we stop at a traffic light the driver turns in his seat and smirks.

  "What the fuck, ese?" the guy next to me groans.

  He remains silent as he pulls a gloc from his lap and aims into the backseat. My heart pounds, and before I can form a rational thought—Bam.

  19

  Tor

  Twenty-four hours. It's been twenty-four hours since Jude left. I heard Marney on the phone last night talking to Gabriel, telling him that Jude wanted him go and retrieve Cayla.

  There’s a sense of dread that clings to me like a cloak, and I can’t seem to shake it. I was on edge when I panicked and told Jude to turn himself in for Cayla, but I know that's exactly what he's gone to do. I saw it in his eyes. He was saying goodbye.

  My already battered heart is crumbling in my chest because I've just lost the two most important people in my world, and I have no idea whether either of them will come back to me. The thought that something may happen to him is crippling. The idea of anyone hurting Cayla is a pain I cannot even put into words. I know Jude feels the same, so I can't persecute his actions. If I were wanted I would trade myself for Cayla in a heartbeat, and truthfully, I'd trade Jude as well. I love him with all my heart, but for my daughter—I would sacrifice even him. I would sacrifice everything and anything to keep her safe. And not being able to do so is torture.

  Every time I close my eyes, I can't help but picture my little girl scared and alone, suffering at the hands of men who hate her father. My worst fears constantly play out in my imagination and I can't stand it. I can barely breathe knowing she's there. The door opens and Marney comes back in from outside, a cloud of smoke still clinging to him.

  "I need to use a phone," I say, chewing on my thumb nail.

  Sighing, he looks at me for a second before handing me his phone. I dial Jude's number and place the phone to my ear. It rings once and goes to voicemail. I hang up, clutching the phone in my hand. Shit. He’s been gone too long to have heard nothing. Scrolling through Marney's phone, I stop when I see Gabriel's name. My finger hovers over the call button for a second before I press it. After only two rings he picks up.

  "Si?"

  "Gabriel."

  He sighs and I hear the creak of a chair. "Tor."

  "I...do you have Cayla?" I ask, my heart pounding as I wait for the answer.

  "I'm sorry. I don't."

  I pull the phone from my face, swallowing back a choked sob before I bring it to my ear again. "I know Jude made a deal. I know you were supposed to get Cayla. Where is she? Where is Jude?"

  "You do realize that if Jude goes to Jesús, he will fuck me?"

  "I don't give a rat's arse if he fucks you so hard his dick comes out your fucking mouth!" I shout. Marney chuckles.

  "Trying to seduce me with that foul language will get you nowhere." Gabriel laughs.

  "This is not funny. They have my daughter, Gabriel." My temper is spiking dangerously right now. I'm not sure how much more I can take.

  "No, it's not. But you and Jude do not understand the ways of the cartel. This is not his little bookie bullshit. The cartel is something the devil doesn't even fuck with." He exhales. "Domingo and Jesús don't negotiate, they provoke fear." There is such a cold indifference to his voice, I almost don't recognize him. "Trust me, I've slaughtered entire families to teach others a lesson, and we rarely trade a life for a life. That's not the kind of message that makes people fear you. That is a message that gives hope. There is no hope in this world."

  I swallow back the bile rising in my throat. I don't know what to say to him. I have no words. "Where is Jude?" I ask again.

  "I'm handling Jude,” he says, then hangs up.

  I clutch the phone in my hand, but I don’t cry even though every bit of hope I had is now crushed. And on the heels of my denial is acceptance. The cartel has my daughter and no one is getting her back. I can't just sit here. I won't. I don't care if I must walk right into the lion's den, I will not leave Cayla alone. If she's with the monsters, then I want to be as well. I have trusted Jude time and time again to fix things, but this time, Cayla is involved and that changes everything. I lean down and slip my hand inside my handbag, palming my gun and slowly bringing it out.

  I nervously glance at Marney, holding the gun down beside the mattress as I clear my throat. "Marney, I need a favour.”

  "What’cha need?" he says, completely focused on the TV.

  "I need to go to Mexico," I say. I know he has orders. I know Jude would never allow this, but I'm done giving Jude chances. Twenty-four hours is too long. Cayla needs me.

  "Aw, now, little darlin', you know I can't go doing that…"

  I pinch the bridge of my nose, fighting off the tension headache that's threatening. I pull my gun, pointing it at him before I slowly lift my gaze. Marney slumps down in the chair, shaking his head. I like Marney, but I can’t even feel guilty about this. No one is going to stand between me and my daughter. Not even Marney. "Pick up your keys and start walking, Marney."

  "Jude's not gonna be happy about this now, Tor…"

  "Jude got us into this fucking mess!" I shout, my voice cracking with the strain. "Jude is the reason they have my daughter, Marney."

  Marney sighs and shakes his head. "Hell, Tor I—"

  "Don't." I cut him off. "Don't try to chan
ge my mind. I need to be with her and I don't care what that costs me. Now, take me to the cartel or I swear to god, I will shoot you."

  "Easy there," he chuckles as he pushes up from the chair, "you ain't got to go shooting nobody." I keep the gun aimed at him as he opens the door and then I slip it beneath my shirt. He walks to the car and opens the door. "You do realize this is the cartel,” Marney says as he walks out into the car park. “This ain't no gun and pony show. They string guys up out in the streets. They make Joe look like a soft bastard."

  Tears prick my eyes. "Yes, and they have Cayla!" My voice is edging on hysteria, but I fight it back.

  "Hell, what's it matter? We're all about to die anyway, may as well be Jude that puts the bullet in my head..." he mumbles as he opens the driver's side door to the car. He takes a deep breath and nods once before turning the engine over. The truck roars to life and we pull away.

  A mile down the road, I grab Marney’s phone from the dashboard and throw it out the window. I know the second I'm out of this car he'll find a phone and call Jude, but I don't need Jude stopping me before I get there. I know this isn't a plan, but it's what I need to do.

  20

  Jude

  Bam.

  Blood splatters the window, my face, my shirt, and the guy next to me slumps over in the seat. Both doors to the back fly open, and someone on the outside yanks the dead man's body out onto the street. Two men climb inside, settling on either side of me. The doors haven't even shut before the Hummer is speeding off, the engine revving as it flies over the uneven road. I sit in silence wondering what the actual hell is going on when I hear the distinct clicks of guns cocking. I glance to each side to see guns pulled and aimed at my head. What the fuck just happened?

  "Gabriel," the driver says to me, "is not happy about this."

  ***break**

  We pull up to a large, iron gate with two men standing guard. The driver rolls down the window, shouts something in Spanish, and the gate slowly opens. We wind up a long drive that stops in front of a white stucco house roofed with Mexican clay, and there, in the drive, with his arms crossed stands Gabriel.

  "Ah, fuck," I groan, slamming my head against the seat. The man to my right opens the door and clamors out. I follow suit, walking around the front of the Hummer and straight up to Gabriel. "What the fuck?" I ask. He glares at me before turning to walk inside. "Gabriel!" I shout.

  "I didn't take you to be so stupid.”

  Heat flies over me and I storm up to him. He doesn't even flinch, just smirks at me like a slick fucking bastard. I pull my arm back and ram my fist right into the side of his jaw. His head slams to the side and he grabs his face with a groan. I hear guns cock behind me, and Gabriel holds up his free hand, shaking his head.

  "Don't shoot him," he says, annoyance dripping from his tone. He takes a deep breath before he turns to look at me. "Do not ever do that again." And he walks away, motioning for me to follow him.

  "Damn it, Gabe," I shout as we walk through a garage.

  "You're too impatient." He stops in front of a door and spins to face me. "He would have killed your daughter right in front of you. He would have strung her up to the streetlight by her intestines and then fed her to the dogs. He would have found Tor and taken her, fucked her, then slit her from her stomach to her throat, spilling her blood onto the streets for the Sinaloa to dance in. Then, and only then, would he have killed you."

  My stomach knots, my head swimming because I know damn well I've never seen anything like this before. I've never been in such a fucking shit situation, and that's saying a lot.

  Gabriel glares at me as he reaches for the door handle. "You're corredor de apuestas. The ghost. You work with me and you're a fucking snitch. You are a warning to everyone else. And don't worry," he throws the door open, "Miguel is on his way back to tell Jesús I had you kidnapped. He will believe that because you are an asset and this is business, after all."

  "Fucking amazing, Gabe. Just fucking great."

  He laughs. "But look, we have an advantage," he says as he steps inside the room. I follow him in and see Andrea strapped to a cot with duct tape over his mouth and IVs in his arm. His face is bruised, eyes swollen. The symbol for the Sinaloa cartel is carved in his cheek. "The little shit pulled through,” Gabriel says. “Rarely will they exchange a life for a life but in this case, they just may."

  Gabe rips the duct tape off as he pulls a phone from his pocket.

  "My father will kill you," Andrea snarls, bucking against the restraints.

  "I know, I know..." Gabriel sighs, waving his hand through the air as though he's heard that a thousand times and is bored with it.

  "Jesús," Gabriel purrs into the phone. "How have you been?" There's a pause. "Guess who is still alive and in a fucking garage? Andrea Garcia." I watch a slow smirk work over Gabriel's face. "Sure, as long as you show me proof of life as well." His eyes flits over to mine. "Tengo ese pedazo de meirda!" Gabriel shouts into the phone before holding it out to Andre. "Di algo."

  "Matarlos de tolo," Andrea shouts. "Matarlos de tolo!"

  Gabriel snatches the phone away. "There is your fucking proof. Now where is ours?" He puts the phone on speaker and I hear rustling, men shouting.

  "Gabriel," A woman's thick Spanish accent comes over the line.

  "Camilla," Gabriel says.

  "The child is fine. Say hello, Ángel bonito. Say hi to your daddy."

  "Dada," Cayla whimpers and my chest goes tight.

  "Hey, little doll," I choke.

  A soft sob breaks over the line. "Dada," she cries. Everything inside of me shatters, my heart pounds violently against my chest and all I can think about is how I will slaughter every fucking person that took her from me. "Dada..."

  The line crackles. "See, bastardo," a man says, " she is still alive. We make a trade. Your amigo's daughter for Andrea." The phone goes dead and Gabe looks up at me.

  "He will kill you and your daughter and fuck your wife," Andrea says. "And I'll help him."

  Gabriel already has a piece of duct tape covering Andrea's mouth. He mumbles against it, his eyes going wide, nostrils flaring. I pull my arm back and punch him one good time in the face, busting his nose. I drag my arm back to hit him again, but Gabriel catches it, laughing. "I'll let you beat his ass later, but right now, ese, we have a ton of shit to figure out. Let's go to my house."

  21

  Tor

  We've been driving for twenty-eight hours straight through. I'm exhausted, but driven by the fact that I'm actually doing something—I'm moving towards my baby.

  The Texas landscape whirs past the window, the sparse desert seemingly endless as we follow the desolate road that cuts through it. Marney hums along to a country and western song as he throws a cigarette out the window only to immediately relight another.

  My phone rings. I glance at it in the console, my heart leaping to my throat when I see Jude's name flash on the screen. I snatch it up. "Jude?" I answer.

  "Hey doll," his voice washes over my fraught nerves like a soothing balm.

  "Where is Cayla?" I ask slowly and he exhales. "Jude?"

  "I'm working on that."

  I suck in a deep breath, fighting back the disappointment. Perhaps Gabriel is right. What if they had killed them both? Maybe them not having Jude is the only thing keeping Cayla alive right now. "I spoke to Gabriel," I say quietly, the Colombian's words whirling through my mind like a nightmare.

  "I swear to god,” Jude sighs. “I want to fucking kill him." There's a pause. "But, what the hell do I know? Maybe he's right. Hell, I know he's right..."

  I nod even though I know he can't see me. "It's okay, Jude, you did what you could."

  He's silent for a minute and I'm sure he thinks I'm being too accepting of the entire thing. "Are you…in a car?" he asks.

  "We're going to the shop."

  "Marney with you?"

  "Yep." I glance at Marney.

  "Let me talk to him for a second."

  "Sure."
I pull the phone away from my ear and glare at Marney. "Jude wants to talk to you." Marney takes the phone and I point the gun at him.

  He rolls his eyes and shakes his head. "Yeah?" He pulls out a cigarette and lights it. "Uh-huh." He blows the smoke out. "Yep, sure did." He cuts his eyes over to me. "Nah. It's fine...yep, just as fast as a chicken on a June bug."

  God, he's so redneck. I snatch the phone back from him. "Happy?" I snap at Jude.

  "Tor, I fucking know you. If you got Marney in on your shit, I'm gonna have to hurt him and I'm fond of the old fuck." He sighs. "Don't make me do that, Tor."

  "You won't hurt Marney," I say on a huff. "You're full of shit." Marney grumbles next to me, puffing on his cigarette.

  "You do not set foot in fucking Mexico, do you hear me, Tor? I swear to god. Why the hell you can't just listen to me and trust me to fix shit. Why do you have to go and try to handle shit on your own. Jesus, you are aggravating and stubborn as all fuck, woman!"

  "You're not fixing shit!" I inhale. Do not bite. Do not bite.

  "Do not come to Mexico." And he hangs up. I call him back, but it goes straight to voicemail.

  That might be the last time I talk to him. I may never see Jude again. If I walk into the cartel I'm fairly certain I'm going to die, or that Jude will in order for us to earn our freedom. I don't want to go in there and leave him on bad terms so I text him: I love you.

  22

  Jude

  I sit on Gabriel’s leather couch, my knee bouncing as I listen to him shout over the phone. "Jesús, tomorrow night is not good enough." There's a pause. "Chihuahua," he huffs. "Fine."

  I watch the stream of smoke swirl in front of my face. I close my eyes. The phone beeps with a text and I glance down at it. I love you. I text back: I love you, too.

 

‹ Prev