Chapter 10
N avarro
I’d learned a long time ago that I wasn’t normal. While the term wasn’t easily defined, there was a sense of humanity and respect involved. I had little for anyone. Humanity was something reserved for those pretending to be happy while suffering in silence.
They were the ones who longed to be ripped from their polite and pristine yet dull world where little mattered but the clicking of time as it passed them by. They lived for a tragedy or a moment of utter chaos, even violence if it meant for a mere few seconds where they’d feel alive again.
I’d been labeled brilliant, a child with a high IQ that constantly needed feeding to fend off the necessity of creating more stimuli to keep the demons away.
Demons.
As if I was possessed.
Maybe I was, but at least I’d managed to control my urges even as the need for violence had grown exponentially over the years. What I did realize early on was the hunger furrowing inside of me had a constant need for satisfaction.
Whether by blood, violence, or sex, the beast needed regular feedings. Had I managed to control the sudden, overwhelming urges as I’d gotten older? Yes, but that didn’t mean the raging desires didn’t exist. Or that doing so hadn’t taken a toll.
Which is likely why Fallon had been able to push every button and I’d broken a rule I’d placed on myself years before. I’d intimately touched someone who could pose danger to me and my organization.
Sighing, I rubbed my hand across my jaw, taking a few seconds to flick my index finger back and forth across my lips. Kissing her at the club had awakened something dark and devious with me that had required satisfaction. When she’d fought me yet again, I’d lost all sense of control.
That wasn’t like me in the least.
She’d sparked too many memories from my past. My brother had been used in a dangerous game of betrayal.
My father and mother had been murdered. My world had been crushed.
I’d been left broken, a kid shattered from deaths and violence that I’d never been forced to partake in, shielded from the reality of a world I’d finally begged to be a part of.
In turn, I’d not only become extremely good at what I did.
I’d also become a monster.
At least she was safely tucked away being protected by several of Eduardo’s men. I’d been forced to place my trust in them. If they fucked this up or allowed Fallon to be hurt in any way, Eduardo’s gilded masterpieces would be covered in red.
“We’re almost there, boss,” Silvio stated as he glanced into the rearview mirror.
We were headed into a rural section outside the city to a position a few hundred yards away from the warehouse.
While there were several of Eduardo’s soldiers positioned for enhanced security, the infrared cameras the Mexican Cartel leader had installed indicated a breach in their outer perimeter.
“Keep close contact with the soldier inside,” I told him as I glanced out the window at the passing light.
My thoughts drifted to Fallon and the story she’d told.
It was still difficult for me to believe an artist would place herself in the kind of danger she was in.
It was entirely possible she wasn’t working alone, merely setting a trap. But who was her intended victim?
If it was me, she’d quickly changed her attitude. Part of her devious plan?
There was something extremely haunting about her eyes. While she was keeping details from me, the pain and fear were real.
No, something was definitely off. There was also the issue of our close connection. We’d both felt the shooting electricity and not simply because of extreme attraction.
She’d certainly seemed surprised at my determined answers against her allegations. In fact, I’d seen doubt in her eyes, as if the woman believed I’d had nothing to do with her sister’s kidnapping. If she was acting alone, the woman had nerves of steel and perhaps a death wish.
Her ingenuity sparked far too much interest.
And desire.
However, I’d learned a long time ago that women could be far more cunning than men.
I’d seen it in action through the years, including with Jago’s wife, a woman who could align herself with any dangerous man.
I’d experienced it once in my life as a young soldier, the beguiling woman stripping away my defenses while we’d engaged in a passionate love affair.
The act had nearly gotten me killed, my loyalty challenged, and I’d been left with both emotional and physical scars. From that day, I’d sworn I’d never allow myself to enjoy anything more than the physical pleasure. Something I’d upheld until today.
Why was it that Fallon sparked something deep inside, the sadistic cravings more intense than usual?
Something told me Fallon was more than she appeared.
On one hand, if she was a painter, an artist by trade, she certainly had no business being a part of my world under any circumstances.
But her fighting abilities suggested she was either self-taught in methods of protection or had been trained for a purpose.
I didn’t like the odds, nor did I appreciate surprises.
Fallon Baldwin was a definite surprise.
What to do with her remained the difficult question.
If she were a man, I would have dealt with her swiftly and without a scrap of remorse. Maybe the fact my dick continued to twitch was a reason she remained under my protection. Or maybe I was intrigued with her determination, however ridiculous and harmful it could prove to be.
Charles Baldwin. The name could obviously be an alias. I’d need to find everything I could on the entire family.
She’d been taken to a bedroom specifically designed with prisoners in mind. There was little inside the room other than a bed, a stark bathroom, and a single lamp that provided little light.
The lock on the outside was austere, incapable of picking from the inside.
Eduardo wasn’t just a cautious man. He was a paranoid asshole who enjoyed the act of imprisonment and torture. At least the room had proved useful.
I’d yet to visit the warehouse where we were headed. Eduardo had twelve in various locations, some of which were little more than glorified shacks, but had provided adequate protection and coverage over the years. His methods were crude but worked.
For him.
I couldn’t stand his methods of doing business, although it wasn’t my place to say.
The Torres organization was quickly moving toward a more profitable and legitimate operation thanks to the world of precious gems. The thought was strangely amusing since without Jamal Fassi’s determination to tear us down, we would never have considered getting into the business.
“What is this place?” Silvio snarled from the driver’s seat.
The small village was located over thirty minutes away from the heart of Mexico City, the streets little more than dirt roads. While I sensed there were people living in the dilapidated homes, there was an emptiness that could only be shown by significant poverty.
Even in the dark, the headlights provided a good look at the living conditions. They were shit. No one should be forced to live in such terrible conditions. The headlights flashed on a larger building, the warehouse tucked behind a massive group of trees and foliage.
The intended meeting place was far enough away from the warehouse building that our approach would be secured in shadows. As Silvio pulled over, Jago, Kruz, and the four soldiers who’d accompanied them appeared in the headlights.
Silvio parked and I climbed out, immediately unfastening my jacket.
I scanned the entire surrounding area, both listening and looking for anything out of the ordinary.
This was the kind of shit I didn’t like to deal with.
Both Silvio and Alonzo pulled assault rifles from the back of the SUV, checking the ammunition although both were fully loaded.
We had enough firepower to handle the situation. The goal wasn’t to destroy the product, but to gain answers as to Fassi’s ultimate intentions.
Jago approached with a grin on his face. The man enjoyed the art of interrogation almost as much as I did. “An interesting night,” he said almost in passing.
“A pain in my ass,” I answered.
Kruz appeared thoughtful, pacing the area likely in search of booby traps. Eduardo was known for those as well, although his methods were primitive in comparison to anything established in Barcelona.
“I heard you have a guest,” Kruz mentioned as he laughed. “At least your trip is more interesting than you originally thought.”
Interesting wasn’t the word.
“A fly in the ointment as the Americans would say.” I gritted my teeth. Just the mention of the woman and her interruption should anger me. Instead, my balls tightened for the tenth time tonight.
Silvio approached. “There’s been a breach at the back door of the warehouse.” He was holding his phone, staring at the screen where a text appeared.
“We’re on. Let’s get this over with,” I suggested.
Jago snagged my arm before I walked away. “The goal is to keep one of Fassi’s men alive. We need to know what we’re dealing with. What if they’re Alcarez Cartel?” I said.
He laughed. “Then we need to know where Fassi’s pigs are holed up. It’s entirely possible we’ll find Fassi.”
“I doubt it and those soldiers won’t talk,” I countered.
He pulled out his favorite weapon, a tanto, the Japanese dagger the perfect blade to use for convincing enemy soldiers to speak their minds.
As sophisticated as the man had become over the decades that we’d known each other and as much of a family man as he’d turned into recently, he still enjoyed using savagery when necessary.
Maybe a little too much.
We’d run together in our youth. He’d taught me the arts of interrogation and killing as taught to him by his father. We’d been holy terrors, which had soothed the anger.