The hand at her back pressed on, leading her into the building and up to the room. Holiday was now inside, taking apart the weapon on the table. He didn’t bother to turn when they came in. The animosity was a virtual wall around him. Gatlin led her past, heading to the bedroom. She stopped, unable to go farther without doing what she could. With a quick glance at Gatlin she held up a finger and stepped away.
“Holiday,” she said from beside him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize what he was doing.”
He didn’t turn.
She sniffed and forged ahead. “I was just trying to get a lawyer for—” She looked back at Gatlin, not knowing what she could say.
“It’s okay,” Gatlin assured her, taking off his mask. “He has clearance to be read in.”
Holiday turned, a brow raised in question. “My father’s Victor Ayala,” she confessed. “I thought Leonard was having us meet a lawyer.” It sounded stupid now. “I’m sorry,” she said again, hoping he’d understand.
Holiday stared so hard she could almost feel the pummeling. She swallowed hard, knowing she more than deserved whatever he had to dish out. “We work together here, Snow White. You need to learn to follow orders, rules, and procedures.” He glanced at Gatlin. “You put every agent out there in jeopardy and almost got yourself killed. If Rio hadn’t shown up when he did, we’d be collecting your body.” With that, he turned back to his task.
She ducked her head, nodding in agreement. Her and the baby, gone. She wrapped her arms around her middle and shuffled into the bedroom.
Time passed. It could have been hours for all she could tell. Not even Vix had made an appearance throughout the afternoon. Which didn’t help Celeste’s conscience. Her mind kept replaying what happened. The things she’d done. The things she’d missed. Leonard. What happened to turn their relationship to this?
Though she’d always known she had a much-older half-brother, to her it had been her father’s first family. Nothing out of the ordinary when most of the kids at boarding school had mixed families. Her father had come by for a day at Christmas, because he also spent time with Leonard during the holiday. The elaborate gifts she got were because Oz wanted to keep them even when it came to spending money on his children.
From everything she’d known of her half-brother over the years, Leonard was a businessman. He’d been running the custom broker’s office they’d inherited from their grandfather while she’d been locked away in a boarding school. Had it all been a cover? Why had he come to hate her so much? What could she have done when she hadn’t actually met him until she graduated. Even then, with the twelve-year age difference, they’d never been close, despite Oz’s failed attempt to have them bond a few years ago. In hindsight, that’s when Leonard retaliated by murdering innocent people. Why? Jealousy? Had she suddenly become real to him?
Her stomach heaved. She rushed to the toilet bowl, dropping to her knees. The food they’d brought her did a quick turnaround, leaving her limp and achy. She was rinsing her mouth when someone closed the bedroom door.
“Celeste. You okay in there?” Kari asked through the door.
“Yes.” Her throat burned from her earlier screaming. The mirror confirmed she looked as bad as she felt. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes and nose, while her cheeks had no color at all. “I’ll be right out.” She pulled a hand towel off the rack, and her gaze wandered. The empty phone cradle sat like a glaring reminder of what she’d done. Tears welled, and her insides lurched again. She swiveled, heaving over the toilet. With her stomach empty, she only had the stabbing pressure moving up her chest to ricochet in her head. One hand braced on the tank, she closed her eyes, praying her stomach would settle.
The faucet turned with its regular squeak, splashing water in the sink beside her. Kari. She opened her eyes a sliver, to make sure. The medic handed her a damp towel. “Thank you.”
“I sent one of the guys out to get you some crackers and juice. He shouldn’t be long. Then you’ll be debriefed.”
Celeste swallowed hard. She’d have to recount every move. Most of them seemed thoughtless now that she had more time to review her decisions. They had to understand she was alone in the world. This morning she’d only had two family members. Now one was dead and the other was headed to prison. “Please tell me everyone on the team is okay.”
“They’re okay.” Silence stretched out between them. “If you’re asking about Rio, I haven’t seen him.”
Tears started again. “I can’t believe I was so stupid. But I felt like I had to do something,” she finished in a ragged whisper.
…
Rio dropped onto his office chair with a thud that sent him rolling to one side. For most of the day he’d carried the weight of a life extinguished. Over the past decade he’d been in hundreds of skirmishes, wounded countless cartel members, and killed more men than a man should count. As a coordinator, he’d been responsible for hundreds more. Yet today’s experience had shaken him to the very foundation of his beliefs. For the first time he’d seen another side of the cartel. Ayala wasn’t a target he’d tracked anymore. Not because he’d been caught, but because he’d become human. The target turned into a man who became a father and protector. A father who’d been put in an impossible situation and forced to kill one of his own children in order to save another. Leonard Bello may have fallen, but Victor Ayala had been the one to crumble.
Shoulders slumped, Rio rolled his chair back to his desk. After leaving the hotel, he’d spent the rest of the day deposing everyone involved in the jailbreak. They hadn’t realized one of their own had turned on them. Two guards had been treated and released, two were dead, and the hospital staff was hopeful about the fifth one. All for a big payday.
Though he was exhausted, his mind wouldn’t shut down. So he planned to start compiling the depositions into a report. He moved the mouse, bringing his laptop out of sleep mode. In that moment of stillness his mind went back to the night he brought in Celeste. How brave she’d been when she had to be terrified. He swallowed hard.
As much as he’d tried to focus on the events at the holding facility, he hadn’t been able to keep her out of his head. How could he when every detail was told and retold a dozen times over. Every moment that had to do with Ayala, Leonard, and the guard. They all culminated into the memory of when he looked at Celeste and she turned away, heartbroken. I hate you. The mental chant was back. If she’d hated him when she thought he’d made a fool of her, how would she feel now that her brother was dead, her father was on the way to prison, and he’d been the one responsible for both?
Kris had pulled him aside, trying to get him to talk. But there’d been nothing to say. Not when he was numb. Programmed to keep the memory of her walking away from coming past the fringe of his conscious. Her words dancing around his mind like a disembodied ghost. The masochist in him prodded at the dark shadows in his soul. What would happen if he forced himself to work through the scene? If he could let himself feel?
Elbows on the desk, he stared at the login screen, not really seeing anything. Rejection had been a part of his life since day one. Given away at birth, he’d grown up in the system, returned by families who couldn’t deal with a kid who wasn’t filled with innocence and laughter. They’d all been inconsequential. He’d experienced true emotional pain once before, at the hands of a woman he’d searched out. The one who’d given birth to him. And the child he was had sworn never to allow it to happen again. Never to open up and let another woman tear him apart and crush the bits.
“What the hell, dude?” Parker stood glaring down at him, arms crossed.
He checked himself, dragging in a breath as he straightened. Parker wasn’t exactly stealthy, and she’d made it all the way in the building with him being zoned out. Which said a lot about his state of mind.
“Where have you been?”
He went back to the laptop, ignoring her question. He was in no way accountable to
the staff medic. And frankly, he didn’t want to share that moment with her or anyone else.
The door opened and Gatlin’s familiar footsteps echoed in the hall. Great. Any minute the rest of the camp would show up to sing “Kumbaya”.
“Celeste was a mess, and you were a no-show.” She came around to stand in front of the desk. Hello Kitty stared down at him menacingly from her T-shirt, an AR clutched in her right paw and a promise to take no prisoners printed across the bottom. “What the fuck kind of relationship is this?”
“He was doing debriefs,” Gatlin said, sidetracking her.
Ah fuck. He’d been the one to hold Celeste when she needed support. Maybe the only one who truly knew how she felt…how much she despised him after what happened.
Parker narrowed her eyes. “You and Angel did the debrief. I was there,” she pointed out.
“We debriefed the team and Snow,” Gatlin corrected, leaning a hip on his desk. “Rio took care of the guys at the holding facility and the hospital.”
“And you’re just now coming back?” she said incredulous. “It’s freaking three o’clock in the morning.”
“The guard’s surgery took hours.” Recovery had taken a couple hours more. He’d purposely waited, needing some time to process everything that happened. “And I needed to get to him before anyone else did.”
“So where’s Celeste?” she asked, kicking up the tension in the room.
Expressionless, Gatlin reported out. “Not here.”
“Then she’s likely being processed so she can get back to Seattle.” The words beat against the inside of his chest.
She curled her lip. “If I’d known you were just going to knock her up and send her on her way, I would have stayed out of it.”
Maybe she should have. Much as he wanted to spit that out, he couldn’t. He didn’t regret a single moment of what happened between them that night. In fact, it would be the thing of dreams…or nightmares. “I wasn’t the one to leave.” His voice sounded flat and disconnected to his own ears.
“Dude,” she said in a calmer voice. “She’d just lost her entire family.”
Guilt hammered at him with every word. “And I was to blame, Parker.” He shot her a meaningful glare. “What did you expect me to do? Hold her? Ask her to switch to the other arm so she wouldn’t end up smeared with the blood on my vest? Her brother’s blood. The guy I—”
“Duuuude…” she cut in, “it’s not like that.”
But Rio wasn’t about to drop it. “Let’s talk about it, sweetheart. Oh, remember the time I shot your brother? How’s your father? Oh yeah, he’s up for the death penalty.”
“Rio,” she snapped. “You’re just—”
“Parker, let it go,” Gatlin said straightening. “You’re not going to fix anything at three o’clock in the morning.”
“Somebody has to.” She turned from one to the other, expecting more than what either was willing to give.
Gatlin shook his head, scowling. “Sometimes shit’s just FUBAR.”
She tossed up her hands then turned on her heel and stalked out. Her mumbled curses at men in general echoed in the empty hallway until she slammed through the door.
Gatlin scoffed. “You’d think she’d never seen a kid grow up without his daddy around.” He yawned then turned to follow her. “I’m headin’ back to the rack. You should, too. Things will make more sense in the morning.”
Was that how far things had gotten? Fucked up beyond all repair. He’d always avoided drama, walking away when and if necessary. This wasn’t some insignificant bullshit. It was his life, his kid, and Celeste. He had no doubt she’d make it through this. All of it. And him? Had he really given anything between them a chance? She was bound to be hurt and, yes, hating him. But she knew what her father had done. He’d seen it in her reaction when they worked on the timeline.
Hell, he should have stayed and let her take it out on him. He deserved it, everything she could throw at him, no matter how bad. Letting her purge her anger might help her heal. Which might give them a chance to be together, some day. He could be patient, especially considering what he had to lose otherwise.
As much as he’d denied it when she disappeared, he wanted to be part of her life. To have another moment with her in his arms, sleepy, calling his name as he carried her to his bed. I’m in love with Celeste Patron… And he’d just let her walk out of his life. The pang in his chest exploded. He splintered inside, sending shards through every nerve ending with the intensity of a shotgun blast.
He shot up, sending the chair clattering to the floor. Lightheaded, he dragged in air, trying to get enough oxygen so he didn’t feel like he was drowning. The walls grew thick, closed in, forcing him out to the hall. He pushed through the doors and into the night, desperation’s vicious hand clawing at him. Celeste was gone. She might be halfway across the continent by now. Longing rushed through his veins. He wanted her. Wanted the light she brought to his life. Wanted to make her sigh and curl into his arms like she had just last night. Wanted to laugh with her like they didn’t have a care in the world. What the hell had he done?
Kris’s words returned to haunt him. If you don’t want to lose her, start thinking about how you can make things right. For the first time he’d made a move without a clue of what to do. He stood in the yard, alone, looking around at the solitary darkness. This is my life. Reality cleared his head, sending him straight to the infirmary. He pounded on the door until Kari yanked it away.
“What happened?” She looked around him, frowning when she found him alone.
“Be ready to go at sunup.” He turned on his heel, intent on getting back to his office. He had a lot of planning to do.
“Rio.” She reached out, pulling at his arm. “What happened? You don’t look so good.”
He stopped, finally hearing his breath rushing in and out of his body. Yeah, well that’s what happens when the world crashes down around you. No matter how much he’d pissed off Parker, she was concerned, so he must look like shit. “I fucked up, Kari.” He swallowed hard. “And if I’m going to try and fix things, I need to do this right.” His first hurdle came pretty quick. He was about to give another woman the chance to turn him down. The way he acted, he wouldn’t blame her if she did. “That means I need your help.”
She studied him, hard enough that she could have peeled back his skin. Then she nodded. “Of course, I’ll be ready.”
He wasn’t sure what he expected, but he damn well could have hugged her.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ayala shuffled through the door, the shackles at his ankles and wrists clattering with every step. The layered rings of filthy water along his expensive dress shirt and his damp hair and pants were evidence of the waterboarding he’d been subjected to. Did they want money, information on his business, or payback for the people that died in the escape? Rio curled his fingers into a tight fist and turned to the Detention Center’s administrator.
“What happened here?” he demanded, the balaclava covering his face adding a guttural note to his voice.
“We lost men when this puto was taken,” the chief spat.
“That’s just it,” Rio said, herding him back until the shorter man flattened his back against the door. “Remind your men Ayala was taken. Kidnapped from under their noses by one of your own.” The men in the hall shifted uncomfortably. Rio addressed the five men. “The man who killed your people is dead.”
“He’s responsible for what his people do,” the administrator said defiantly.
Rio stepped closer, speaking so only he would hear. “If I find out anybody else laid a hand on my prisoner, I will hold you responsible for what your people do.” He stared down, letting him see the intent in his eyes. “We’ll talk again. And I won’t be carrying a badge.”
The chief stiffened, his eyes shifting to Ayala then back. “I’ll have him put into isolation
until he’s moved.”
“And kept alive and safe,” Rio stressed.
The chief gave him a choppy nod. “Alive and safe,” he repeated grudgingly. With that, he sidestepped while Rio remained in place, shooting the retreating man a deadly glare. He slammed the door, dragging out his cell to type a message to Parker. He wasn’t about to trust the chief’s people to provide proper medical care.
Ayala waited patiently, watching him with his signature calm facade. Rio pulled his mask off, dropping it on the metal table anchored to the floor between them. He faced Victor Ayala, the man he’d spent countless hours tracking. Studying his every move, analyzing his actions to predict his patterns. Finally the pieces fit. He understood why Ayala didn’t make sense. Why his moves were so erratic at times. And why he’d gone from occasional skirmishes to the bloody massacre of innocent people.
After all this time, they were face to face. And he couldn’t quite come up with the right words to start the conversation he wanted.
“Do you have a death wish, agent? Showing your face in front of me isn’t smart,” Ayala added, somehow managing to look boardroom ready, despite the beating.
“No death wish.” He squared his shoulders. “You know as well as I do that I’m the only man left standing who can protect Celeste. So it’s not in your best interest to kill me.”
Ayala’s features went hard. “I will take care of my own.”
There was no question that Ayala had deep pockets and an extensive network. He wouldn’t be the first man to run his organization from behind bars. “I’ve seen the lengths you’ll go for your family.” His head still echoed with Celeste’s pain-filled wail. “And that’s what we are.” He paused, suddenly short of breath. “I’m your grandchild’s father.”
Temptation and Treachery (Dangerous Desires) Page 15