by Amy McKinley
Chapter 19
Settled on the bench on the back of Liam’s property, Liv opened her sketchbook and set it beside her. The soothing, repetitive crash of the waves as a backdrop helped her to do what she knew she needed to. Before coming outside, she’d slipped her burner phone and battery in her pocket. Escaping into the sketches that begged completion would have to wait until she did a little research on Juan Carlos’s organization.
She reattached the battery, powered on the phone, and ignored the missed calls, not ready to talk to Alex, the only person who had this number.
To try to figure out what she and Liam would be facing, she would gather as much information as possible. She pulled up an Internet browser and plugged in the words “Ramirez cartel” just to see what popped up. Her stomach knotted at the amount of sites and videos that filled her small screen. Ignoring all but the most recent ones, she tapped on a video stream.
The terrain in the footage began in a small town. What froze her in place were the dead strewn around a street filled with a mixture of what appeared to be police and cartel members. Bloodied bodies, pools of red, and death littered the area like forgotten garbage. Neither side paid the least bit of attention to the lifeless people or the few who grieved at a distance.
Her stomach clenched and rolled at the inhuman, compassionless demeanor of the two factions that looked to be in charge. Gripping the phone with two hands, Liv listened as the voice documenting the carnage spoke of long-standing rivals. The Los Elegido cartel fought for territory over what had previously been established by the Ramirez cartel. The location was a key point of business, of exporting their product for distribution to Mexico and various states in the US.
The ones who paid the price for the devastating loss of lives were the townspeople, or sympathizers to the Ramirez cartel. From that point, Liv paid closer attention to which gun-toting hands bore tattoos while mingling with those who should have been in authority. It was clear to her there were no rules, no boundaries, and no borders.
What did that mean in terms of Alex retrieving her? Lives would be lost, and innocents would pay the price there in Maine too. She would have to tell Liam; there was no other way. Even though he was military, he couldn’t possibly keep her safe against a group of lawless cartel members.
What she failed to understand was why her return was necessary and whether the Ramirezes meant to take her back with little abuse, or dead. There had to be a reason Alex and his family wanted her back. She just needed to figure it out and see if she could use it as a bargaining chip for freedom—for herself and for those she’d interacted with.
The clip droned on, showing more death, and she pressed the back arrow, looking for anything that showed Ramirez movement or what they had planned. There were more video clips, but she didn’t need to watch them, as their dates were older than the one she’d just viewed.
Frustrated and deeply worried, she powered off her burner phone and popped the battery back out before slipping both into her pocket. She didn’t have any options right now other than to share everything with Liam. Maybe he would be able to learn something she couldn’t with his government connections.
Taking several deep breaths, she worked to calm her nerves. Twirling a graphite pencil between her fingers, she pushed all thoughts of violence out of her head. Needing a complete break from the brutal images, she picked up her sketchpad and tried to take her mind off what she’d seen. Then she could talk to Liam.
After a good twenty minutes, she was back in control, enough to distract herself with the scenery around her. Not only did she need the distraction from the graphic videos and pictures she’d just seen, she also needed something to take her mind off Alex and what he might be involved in. The sense of failure circled around in her mind and was too much. When she added that to what she might have to share with Liam, she needed a moment, a small moment of peace to try to come to terms with her drastically different new world.
The sight and sounds of the water inspired her creativity, and she let the location wash over her as her pencil flew over the sketchpad. She became so immersed in what she drew she didn’t notice Liam’s approach until he spoke over her shoulder.
“That’s beautiful.”
Liv glanced at him and caught his laid-back smile. She appreciated his easy manner around her. A few pieces of her shattered heart fluttered, and her brows furrowed in response. He confused her. After all, she was a virtual stranger. Yet he offered her sanctuary when he most likely thought her husband caused her bruises and was the reason she’d run. After the boat incident, did Liam suspect something else?
Offering him a small smile of thanks, she turned back to the landscape. Thankfully, the picture she’d sketched first lay behind the book, a page away. That, she was not ready to share.
Ghosts of the past.
There would be time to finish her sketch and immortalize it in clay. Creating would expel the ghosts. Nothing was without sacrifice, and it would take so much emotion and effort to achieve exactly what she wanted. If she were lucky, healing would result.
Guilt rocked her, once again, at the realization of how she was holed up in Liam’s home, risking his livelihood and his life. “Is there anything you need me to do? I-I really shouldn’t impose on your hospitality.” Even though it was too late. Alex and his men would know she was here, probably sooner than she expected. She owed Liam the truth.
Liam frowned and crossed his arms over his chest, creating an even more imposing force. “There’s nothing you need to do, except explain in detail why you’re running and what they want from you.” At her anguished silence, he scanned the area before speaking. “It would help to understand what we’ll be up against, Liv.”
Guarded, she nodded, still unable to speak past the horrible images in her mind and the fear of what was coming. He’ll be in even greater danger. Her lips pressed together. She would tell him. Each moment she didn’t put him in more danger. It was a vicious circle, and she needed to figure out how to explain it. How did she admit out loud the detrimental mistake she’d made by marrying into that world?
She owed Liam so much. One part of it would be easy to tell. “I told you before a drug cartel from Columbia is after me. What I don’t understand is why. What benefit my return will give them.” Her lips clamped together, and she blinked her eyes in a fast pinch. She could do it, tell him everything, including all the mistakes she’d unknowingly made.
A deep frown marred his face. “I figured as much from who chased us.”
Her silence was the only answer.
“When you’re ready to tell me the rest, I’m here, Liv. Just make sure it’s soon.” The lines around his eyes eased. “I made some sandwiches if you’re hungry.”
The thought of food turned her stomach, and she shook her head. Her stay of execution from sharing everything, reliving it in the telling, would be short lived. But she was grateful nonetheless. She wanted to stay outside, at least for a little longer. Something withheld her from confessing everything. But she couldn’t figure out what that was—nerves, fear of voicing out loud that she had made an enormous mistake in her marriage, or possibly something else. She would tell him, just after she let her mind ponder a little bit more what held her back.
“I want to tell you. Everything. Just give me a few minutes, please? I’m struggling with admitting it, but I have to tell you it’s bad, and we aren’t safe.” A very tiny part of her worried about her obvious lack of judgment where Alex was concerned, and she wondered if putting her trust in Liam was warranted.
Gripping the wrought iron back of the bench, Liam leaned forward, his gaze once again skimming the area. “I have a few phone calls to make. When you’re ready, come find me. All the workers are busy, finishing up a harvest. No one will disturb you back here.” The frown returned. “If you notice anything, hurry inside and get me.”
Fear skidded along her skin. Time worked against them. She had to make a choice sooner rather than later. Could she really trust him?
&nbs
p; After he retreated to his office, she flipped back to the sketch that consumed a portion of her thoughts. The first one she did depicted two lovers reaching for each other. The man wore a partial mask, while a layer of hair semi-shielded the woman. No definite features were recognizable. Their hands strained to touch from outstretched arms, and bodies arched as if a force yanked them back. A romantic catastrophe. With heavy emotion, she detailed the features into the portions of expressions visible through the half mask and thin veil of hair in motion, accentuating strain and suffering.
Several times, the gallery that featured her work had called, begging her to expand her lovers’ series. This would be either the last of the poses or a new series altogether. In representation of the separation, deceit, and violent parting between her and Alex, emotional pain and futility screamed from the mock-up of the sculpture. The real one would be even more powerful.
When she finished the sketch, she faced the driving force to begin another. The personal message would span time. This one represented an unfulfilled promise to her child. With quick strokes, her pencil flew over paper. Two arms rose from a base rippling with churning waves. Cupped in the chalice-like image rested an almost fully formed baby.
The drawing sent a jolt through her, shattering her hesitation in confiding in Liam and bringing into sharp focus the dangers they would soon face. Deep in her bones, she knew something horrible was about to happen.
Chapter 20
Emotionally exhausted, Liv walked through Liam’s big house. With a clunk, she dropped her sketchbook and pencils on a table in the living room and roamed the first floor. Which door led to Liam’s office? Yesterday’s events were foggy. Giving up on remembering, she opened doors and peered inside.
She paused with her hand on the knob of a paneled door at the end of the hallway. Liam’s voice carried in tone only. Not wanting to disturb him, she turned and went back to the kitchen. There, she saw the closed door that led below the house. The unexplored space intrigued her. Maybe he stored the wine there. Right now, she could use a glass, or a bottle.
Tapping her fingernail against the thick door that led to what appeared to be a cellar, she made a decision. She flipped on the switch to illuminate the stairs and left the door open as she made her way down. At the bottom, she clicked on another light and gasped. Gold mine. The sight stilled her breath—rows and rows of bottled wine. Heaven or helluva hangover?
She skimmed her fingers over the label of one of the many bottles, and her hand jerked back as if burned. She wondered about the one word she’d managed to see on the sign for the farm, but really, what were the odds? Besides, he mainly spoke of wild blueberries, not grapes. Savage Seas Winery. Tremors shook her hand as she touched the label.
Her favorite wine.
One of Alex’s last gifts.
Owned by the man who sheltered her from her husband’s family. Was there a connection there or simply a coincidence?
She staggered as images ran through her mind of the innumerable times she’d cuddled against Alex with a glass of Savage wine in her hand and a beer or whiskey in his. He had teased her often about her obsession with the reds this winery produced, which were carried in the finest restaurants, as well as quaint affordable ones she and Alex visited, away from the watchful eye of her parents and their social circle. With single-minded vigilance, Alex had tracked down the manufacturer, bypassed the distributor, and ordered several cases to surprise her.
Never in her wildest dreams had she expected the owner to be the man Alex had spoken to. They had planned a trip someday. Here.
What did this cruel twist of fate mean?
A sob wracked her body. The conversation after Alex had given her the crates of wine flooded her mind, and she latched onto it in a moment of weakness, slipping into the memory.
“Hey, Liv.”
Setting her book down, she gave Alex her full attention. Excitement and mischief danced in his eyes, and she laughed. “What are you up to?”
“Oh, babe. The question is what will you be up to after you see what I got you.” With a tug, he pulled her from the couch and into their study. Two crates sat on the wood floor.
Taking a closer look, she gasped. “How?”
They’d asked at a few of the restaurants they went to together and inquired if they could purchase the wine from the vineyard. Always, the answer had been no. So Liv substituted other wines at home.
Savage Seas made the most decadent wines. Their flavors carried a melody of their own that played across her tongue.
Alex opened the crate closest to them and took out a bottle of cabernet. “Let’s open this one and celebrate our anniversary a month early.”
“You spoil me.” The huskiness of her voice surprised her.
“No.” The seriousness of his tone caused her to peer closer. “I treasure every moment I have you in my life. You’re a gift I cherish always. Spoiling you is not possible.”
On an exhale, she had breathed his name and gone into his arms.
Shaking her head, Liv pulled herself out of the memory, but the aftereffects still plagued her. They had made love, slowly and passionately. He’d told her he never expected to have someone like her to adore, nor did he think he deserved her.
Had he known, even then, the day would come when he would betray their love? Betray her? Their child?
Looking at the unmistakable label she held in her hand, she remembered when Alex told her he’d spoken to the owner, who had said they didn’t do tours but had a shop on-site. Alex had mentioned that the store and wine tasting would be moving to the little harbor and had told her they should take a trip there before that happened.
They’d never made it.
Work had gotten in the way, Liv had been featured in another gallery, and the time they’d set aside for a vacation had passed. Instead, they’d gone on another, much later one, which had succeeded in tearing them apart.
The emptiness inside her stretched as long and deep as a canyon. With no one to turn to, she instinctively reached for Liam’s friendship, his commanding presence and confident nature. There seemed to be no judgment from him. Not only that, but his strength seeped into her every time she was near him.
The image of Alex’s father and brother invaded her mind. So many times, Liv peered into the dark corners, afraid they’d be there…waiting.
To restrain her.
To take her back.
To kill her.
She turned away from the rows of wine in Liam’s cellar and fled upstairs into the living room to grab her things. Liam’s back was to her, and she swiped the tears from her cheeks before he turned.
The TV was on in the background. Something caught her eye, and she froze.
A red banner ran across the top of the screen, and horrible words flashed within. Their details didn’t matter, yet. What did was the beaten man tied to the chair. His head hung, and a clear image of his face remained obscured, deemed temporarily irrelevant. From the shape of his body, the position he held himself in despite being secured, and the men responsible, she knew him. Alex.
Of course the world news would show him on TV. Anyone connected to her name and her vast fortune was newsworthy. But this, this wasn’t right to air on live TV.
Curt foreign words shouted out a demand, and the network interpreted in English. Words that carried an inevitable threat to her, to Alex, screamed at her from the television. Unbelievable. At least to her it was. Their ploy of a ridiculous monetary negotiation in the millions made no sense. Alex was a son to the leader of the Ramirez cartel, being falsely held for ransom. What could it possibly mean?
While the trust fund in Liv’s name contained billions of dollars, she and Alex both lived off the inheritance from her deceased parents. She’d granted him access to that. Who did Juan Carlos and Mateo think would pay with her missing?
Did his father and brother not know about all that? Maybe Alex had kept that information tightly guarded. Or maybe Alex’s family sought her to gain total contr
ol of her fortune.
Wetness coated her cheeks. Absently, she touched her face, only to find tears streaming from her eyes. The possible implications of what she was viewing caused her body to shake uncontrollably.
Her mind screamed with fear and confusion. They had hurt him. Was she wrong in suspecting his involvement with them?
Blood dripped down his white, torn, button-down shirt. His arms were restrained behind his back, and a hand reached into view, grabbed the hair on the top of Alex’s head, and yanked back. Dull eyes stared right at her. Oh my God!
Was this her fault for running?
Wrenching her gaze from Alex’s face, she searched for anything that might tell her why. The only discerning thing on the hand that gripped Alex’s dark hair was the ring.
A groan tore from her throat, and she fell to her knees. Liam leapt from the couch and helped her up. Her eyes never waivered from the bruised face on the screen that still haunted her dreams and nightmares—her husband.
A distant part of her became aware of Liam as he helped her to the couch. A broken keening filled the room. She sucked in air then realized the wounded sound came from her. Oh God. What had really happened?
Liam held her and shut the TV off, but it was too late. The damage from the initial sight was seared into her brain. As Liam’s warmth seeped into her, the newscaster’s interpretation played on in her mind.
“Turn it back on,” she croaked, realizing there was no point in hiding. She needed all the information available to stay one step ahead of them. She had to see. Was it real? Had they harmed Alex because he worked both sides?
Liam clicked the TV back on, and the images that now filled the screen displayed pictures of her past—images of Alex and her together, splashed in random order, smiling at the camera at various functions, happy. The reporter’s words steadied her wavering emotions. The media must have been clamoring for more information.
“We have confirmation that Alex Mudarra, a respected detective at the New York Police Department is being held for a ransom of twenty million dollars. His wife, Olivia Mudarra, heiress of deceased senator John Wrightwood, is missing. No word has been received of her condition or whereabouts. Two weeks ago, the happy couple set out on a delayed honeymoon. Their last known location, Barbados.”