CHAPTER 12
Mateo
“Feed him to the jaguar.”
Mat was coherent enough to hear the lieutenant’s words, but their meaning didn’t fully register. He’d heard rumors that El Jaguar kept an actual jaguar, but Mat had never seen the animal. Not at the mansion and definitely not at the lieutenant’s lake house. But then, Mat had no idea where he was.
As soon as the lieutenant had verified the Sanchez siblings were missing, they’d moved locations. He’d ridden there tied up, blindfolded, and with Julio’s gun aimed at his temple. The drive had taken about an hour, and when they’d arrived, the air had smelled like dirt. But those were his only clues.
Even now, the scent lingered in his nose like freshly turned earth. Maybe he was near farmland. But fields were every other mile in Texas. It didn’t help him narrow things down. Not that it mattered. He knew he wouldn’t be walking away from this.
Hell, at this point, he wasn’t sure he could walk.
Mat lay in a pile of dried blood—his blood. It stained the dusty dirt floor of the shed they’d tortured him in for his betrayal. He’d gone down fighting, though, sowing seeds of doubt about Julio’s loyalty. The lieutenant was naturally suspicious, and Mat knew enough of Julio’s weaknesses to expose them to El Jaguar .
Before they’d started in on him, Mat tried to throw the blame on Julio for the Sanchez siblings’ disappearance. Maybe he hadn’t implicated the asshole, but he’d done enough to have Julio’s trustworthiness called into question.
As a result, Julio tortured him out of revenge, imparting pain for the pure joy of it. Mat had expected no less after the way he’d treated the man.
They’d launched countless questions at him—who did he work for, where was the Sanchez family, how long had he been a traitor—but it didn’t matter what information he gave the cartel. His death certificate had already been signed.
At least if he were going to die, he’d weakened the cartel on his way out. If Julio wound up dead because of the doubt he sowed, well, that meant Mat didn’t have to worry about the asshole going after Imogen or her brother. And that was worth the hit on his conscience.
The best he could hope for was that the authorities found his remains so Imogen would know what happened. So she could grieve and move on. At least, he thought she’d grieve for him. He sure as hell wished he’d been able to make up for walking away from her before, but now he had to leave her again.
Dammit.
Of all the regrets, and Mat had a lengthy list, leaving Imogen was at the top of it. If God had any mercy left, he’d give her some closure. There was still a chance.
Julio had immediately discovered the comms unit in Mat’s ear and taken his phone, but he’d had a GPS tracker hidden on his person in case the rescue plan went south. He didn’t know if the lieutenant had found the locator device yet or not. Mat had been in and out of consciousness for hours and the details were as hazy as fog over a pasture. The tracker was the last shard of hope he had that the Rangers would find his body, but the possibility of that outcome dwindled if they meant to make him a wild animal’s dinner.
Julio’s footsteps retreated, probably to go prepare the jaguar. The dark beckoned, and Mat hoped it would take him away again because being awake meant being in pain—sharp, burning, so intense he had to scream pain. To avoid it, he welcomed the dark. In it, he could dream, and in those dreams, he found Imogen.
Some of the dreams had been memories of the life they’d shared five years ago. But he’d had new ones, too. Of places, he wanted to take her, like the wildflower meadow near his home. It would riot with color in another month. As a boy, his mother had taken him to pick wildflowers every spring. He wished he could share that tradition with Imogen, but at least he’d experienced it in his subconscious.
“Travers.” Someone shook his shoulder, and searing pain scorched his body. “Can you hear me, Travers?” The question was the last thing Mat heard before the cool blackness overtook him, soothing away the agony.
In the dark, Imogen smiled at him. “Wake up, vaquero . It’s time to go home.”
But he didn’t want to wake up. He wanted to stay with her. He tried to tell her, but she faded in front of his eyes. “No! Don’t leave!”
“Mat?”
Is that Imogen?
He struggled to lift his eyelids. They felt like weighted blankets, and he was as weak as a newborn kitten.
“Nurse, he’s awake!”
That’s her voice, alright.
Though it took a monumental effort, Mat opened his eyes. Imogen’s beautiful face smiled at him, but she had tear tracks down her cheeks. “Gen? What . . .?” When he looked around, the sights and sounds of a hospital room brought only confusion. How did he end up here?
He tried to sit up, but she jumped up to stop him. “Don’t!” Mat froze, and she pushed his shoulders back onto the scratchy blankets. “You have muscle tears in your forearms and thighs. The doctor said they”—she sniffed around a sob—“they shoved corkscrews in your arms and legs.”
The memories came back in a rush. The cartel. The shed. The torture. “How?” Mat took a deep breath and flinched as pain shot through his left side. He’d broken a rib before and felt a familiar stabbing. “How’d I get here?”
Before Imogen could answer, a plump redheaded nurse blustered in. “Well, I’ll be.” She propped her hands on her round hips. “We didn’t expect you to wake up for hours yet, Sergeant.”
Hearing her use his title came as a shock. It rippled through him as he realized he was done. Done with being the lieutenant’s man. Done with the Lazcanos.
Imogen stepped aside so the nurse could check his vitals. “There’s a line of people waitin’ to talk to you.” She made a note on his chart, then asked, “Do you want me to send ’em in or away?”
He said, “In,” at the same time Imogen replied, “Away.”
The nurse chuckled and patted Imogen’s arm. “Best get it over with, hon.” Her voice dropped, not so Mat couldn’t hear but so the people outside didn’t. “I’ll give you a quick minute first, though.”
“Thank you,” Imogen’s smile was watery.
When the nurse shut the door behind her, he opened his right hand for Imogen. “ Corazón ”—she placed her tiny palm in his hand and when he tried to lift it to his lips, she helped—“I never thought I’d see you again.”
She trembled with the effort of holding back her tears. “Oh, Mat. I—”
“Travers!” The door to his room opened as his boss barged in.
So much for that minute.
Imogen tried to slip away, but Mat held tight to her hand. “Stay with me,” he murmured, and she smiled softly, squeezing his palm in response as they both faced the Major of Ranger Company “B”.
Major Swanson was in his fifties but still as broad as a barn. He lumbered to Mat’s side. “Damn, boy. You look like you been through a meat grinder.”
Mat tried to smile. The major had always been blunt. “Feel like I have, too.”
Major Swanson patted Mat’s ankle. “Look, I know it’s going to take some time to recover, but we need your statement.”
Mat nodded. “Yes, sir. I can give it, but catch me up first? We got Sanchez out?”
Imogen beat the major to answering. “Yes! Emil’s here, too. No serious injuries, but he was dehydrated, and they wanted to keep him overnight for observation just in case.” Her face lit with gratitude and relief. “He’s safe because of you.”
The major piggybacked on her statement. “Miss Imogen’s right. You saved that boy, Travers. And he had quite the tidbit to offload.” The major’s grin had a glint to it that promised retribution. Not for Mat, but for the Lazcanos. “We got ’em. El Jaguar’s in custody.”
That was a relief, but . . . “What about Julio Gomez?”
Major Swanson glanced at Imogen with what looked like an apology before answering, “We found that two-bit lackey’s body. Someone put a bullet in his head.”
Sour satisfaction swept over Mat. The bastard won’t be a problem anymore.
Unaware of his internal triumph, the major added, “With Emiliano Sanchez’s information, your statement, and the evidence we seized, we’ve got enough to take the Lazcanos down.”
“What about the chemist?”
A wide grin crossed the major’s face. “We’re raiding the compound as we speak.”
“Damn,” Mat uttered the expletive aloud. As much relief as that brought him, a part of him regretted not being there for the raid.
“Hey, it’s happenin’ because of you. Don’t think I don’t know that.” The major’s words soothed some of the frustration he felt.
Least you’re alive to hear ’bout it.
Chastised by his subconscious, Mat nodded, but then a worry he hadn’t had time to acknowledge snuck up on him. “They’ll bury it. If the chemist is really the governor’s son . . .”
The major’s expression darkened. “You let me worry about that. Even if they sweep it under the rug, we’ve got what we need to stop the cartel. That’s what matters.”
Knowing how things worked around here, it seemed likely the fact the governor of Texas’ son was working for the Lazcanos would never come to light. The reality burned a hole in Mat’s gut, but if he’d at least stopped the lieutenant and the cartel from operating in his state, he’d call it a win.
“What else did Sanchez tell us?”
The major shifted on his feet and crossed his arms. “He had a video, evidence proving the governor’s son was the chemist. He went into hiding to keep it out of the Lazcanos’ hands. ’Course, he chose to hide with Los Lobos and that group is just as bad. I’m guessing one of ’em sold him out when they heard the cartel was looking for him.”
Mat winced. That was his fault. He didn’t want to dwell on all the ways Imogen’s brother being captured could’ve gone poorly. But at least it led to Emiliano coming out of hiding and finding the information on the chemist to take the cartel down.
As if she could read his mind, Imogen squeezed his hand and reiterated in a whisper, “Emil’s safe because of you.”
The major pulled a pen and a palm-sized notebook out of his pocket. “Tell me what happened to you after the rescue, and I’ll let you get some rest.”
Mat didn’t want to talk about that with Imogen in the room. She’d been through enough. “Gen, can you hunt me down a Pepsi?”
When her chocolate eyes met his, Mat saw she understood. With a nod, she said, “I’ll see what I can find.”
◆◆◆
Imogen
Imogen felt like a doll whose stitching was so frayed the stuffing could burst out at any moment. This day had been the longest of her life. With all the worry, stress, and no sleep, she didn’t know how much longer she’d stay put together.
Mat didn’t want her in the room when he relayed what the cartel did to him, but she already knew. She’d been there when the Rangers carried him from that shed. Reliving it, she closed her eyes against the image of his broken and bloodied body. At first, she thought he was dead. And it felt like her world had ended.
Even now, her stomach heaved in horror at the memory. She placed a hand over it to soothe the pain. But then Mat had called her name, and a hot ball of hope had exploded in her chest. If there had been any ice left around her heart, that obliterated it. He might have broken ribs, lacerations from the corkscrews, and too many bruises to count.
But he’s alive.
Opening her eyes, Imogen continued her trek to the hospital vending machine. She’d give Mat the time he wanted with the major, but then they had to talk. There were so many things she ached to say.
Above all, he had to know she forgave him for leaving her five years ago. They’d been given a second chance, and she wasn’t letting anything tear them apart this time. Not the cartel, not her family, and certainly, not him.
When Imogen returned to Mat’s room, she’d been gone for close to fifteen minutes searching for a Pepsi. It seemed the hospital had a deal with Coca-Cola because they had vending machines on every floor. But for a Pepsi, she’d had to go all the way to the cafeteria.
She opened the door and stopped short of entering. “ Madre, Papá! Qué están haciendo aquí ?”
“Don’t be rude, Imogen.” Her mother never missed an opportunity to scold her.
Imogen hadn’t spoken in Spanish to conceal anything, though. She’d simply been shocked into using it at the sight of her parents standing around Mat’s bed, and she knew, even if they didn’t, that he understood her anyway.
Her father, at least, answered her question, “We’re here to show our gratitude to Sergeant Travers for finding Emiliano.”
“Oh.” Still processing, Imogen moved woodenly to Mat’s bedside and offered him the soda.
He nodded his head at the overbed table, and she set it down, realizing she should’ve gotten a straw. With his forearm injuries, he might have trouble holding it.
Wearing a smile that held hidden mischief, Mat said, “It’s really Imogen you have to thank. I only started lookin’ at her request.”
Her father bulldozed right over that sentiment. “Modesty is a virtue, Sergeant, but we insist on a reward. There must be something we can do to repay you?”
Mat’s grin faded. His eyes captured hers, and they glowed with an electric excitement that sent tingles from her head to her feet. “All right, then. I’ll take your daughter’s hand in marriage.”
A gasp left Imogen’s lips. Did he really just say that? Her eyes had to have widened to the size of saucers.
“That’s if she’ll have me,” Mat tagged on.
The room was completely still. He’d shocked her parents into silence, which she knew from experience was difficult to do. Maybe it was all the worry, lack of sleep, or just plain giddiness, but that struck her as ridiculously funny, and Imogen started to laugh. Not a demure chuckle but a gut-busting, belly-holding, bend-you-at-the-waist kind of laugh.
Of course, that sent her mother into a tizzy. “Imogen! What on earth?” She covered her mouth with a well-manicured hand, her eyes wide in horror at her daughter’s behavior.
It only made Imogen laugh harder. Tears started leaking from the corners of her eyes.
“What’s so funny, hija ?” Her father’s eyebrows drew together in confusion, but when Imogen glanced at Mat, she cut herself off.
Sweat beaded on his forehead, and the grimace on his lips hinted that she’d hurt him. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was laughing at his proposal. Not when, now more than ever, she wanted forever with him. Closing the distance between them, she grabbed his face and gently kissed his bruised mouth. His hands lifted to her neck with a grunt of pain, and she shook her head, whispering, “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Leaning back, she pulled Mat’s arms down so he wouldn’t hurt himself anymore and told her father, “My answer is yes. I’ll marry him.”
This time, her mother was the one who gasped. Her father, on the other hand, wore a smile that softened the stern corners of his mouth. “Then you have my consent.” At Senor Sanchez’s announcement, her mother looked ready to faint. He gripped her arm as they headed for the door. “We’ll let you two talk.”
Imogen didn’t know what had changed her father’s mind about Mat, but she wasn’t about to argue the point. Not when it went in her favor.
“Gen?”
When the door closed behind her parents, she gave Mat her full attention.
His expression still spoke of uncertainty. She reached for his hand and clasped their fingers together as he said, “I love you, but I get it if you ain’t ready to give me another chance. I’ll wait for you. Even if it’s five more years, ten, a lifetime. Whatever it takes.” His thumb rubbed across the spot where a ring would go. Mat’s gaze lingered there before meeting her eyes. The promise behind the gesture was like a salve, healing the hurts of the past with its unbelievable sweetness. “Because you’re it for me.”
“I’m done waiting, vaquero .” She may have been tired, but the happiness filling her up was its own form of energy. With her cowboy at her side, she could tackle any trail, no matter how treacherous. “I love you, and I meant what I said. I want to marry you.”
Mischief returned to Mat’s smile. “Then I do believe you have yourself a deal, princess.”