Chapter 10
10
VAUGHN
T he ornery redhead raised her shotgun with a speed that defied her age and whatever ailment hampered her mobility. “Leave. Now!” she growled.
I kept my eyes trained on Elena. “Not going anywhere.”
I didn’t back away. Didn’t even raise my hands. Elena took a swift step backward and wrapped her arms around her stomach as if the heat of the morning sun offered no warmth at all. Her rapidly paling face made me think she’d vomit any second now.
The doc came closer, putting herself between Elena and me while keeping the shotgun pointed square at my head. “You’re not taking her. You hear me? Now go.”
“If I wanted to take her, she’d be gone already, and there’s nothing you could do about it.” In the next heartbeat, I stepped toward the redhead and deflected the barrel of the shotgun. It went off over my shoulder, leaving my ears ringing. I snatched the weapon from her grip, cleared the remaining shell from the chamber, then tossed the gun aside.
Daphne staggered back, likely stunned by how quickly I’d disarmed her and probably more shocked that I hadn’t turned the shotgun on her.
“See?” I glared at the doc. “I could’ve been real nasty about that if I’d wanted. And just so you know how lucky you are, no one—and I mean absolutely no one—has pointed a loaded weapon in my face and lived to tell the tale.” I took a steadying breath to try to cool my temper.
The two women stared at me like they were more horrified of me now, which I thought was rude and unjustified. Hadn’t I just spared Daphne’s life?
The way Elena shifted on her feet made me uneasy. She looked as flighty as a doe at dusk. Did they have a backup plan for a situation where Elena was found? Maybe they were deciding if they should enact it.
“Don’t even think about running, Elena. I’ll catch you, and you know it.” Although that would make things so much more fun for the predator in me.
She gritted her teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s your name, isn’t it?”
For a moment, I thought she’d try to deny her identity, but then a look of reluctant acceptance crossed her features.
“I’m not her anymore, and I never want to be again. I’m Hope to anyone that matters to me. Got it?”
“If you say so. Tell me where to find your father.”
She had the audacity to look appalled. “I don’t know where he is.”
“That’s convenient. When were you last in contact with him?”
“It’s been years. He thinks I’m dead. Everyone does. Daphne’s the only one who knows the truth.”
“Which truth is that? That you’re a pampered cartel princess or that you’re engaged to the only person on the planet more evil than your father?”
“Fuck you,” she spat.
“No thanks. I don’t stick my dick in narco filth.”
Elena recoiled like I’d slapped her, and the hurt look on her face almost made me regret my words.
“Yes, I’m Carlos Espinoza’s daughter. I can’t change that. And I never wanted to marry Jorge. Not for one second. You think I’d choose to spend my life with that…that abomination?”
A shiver shook Hope’s spine, and her face twisted as though she smelled something putrid. Either she was a darn good actress, or the mention of Jorge Ortega truly disgusted her.
Interesting.
“I have no love for my father or Jorge. I hate them.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to maintain composure. “I despise everything they stand for. And while they’re alive, I can’t be free. Every day, I live in fear they’ll find me and drag me back into their hell.”
I folded my arms. “That was a pretty speech, Gatita. Been practicing it?”
Her chest heaved with frustration. “If Jorge and my father were standing before me, I’d take that shotgun and finish them myself.”
“Given your DNA, I’d believe it.”
She curled her lip. “Go to hell.”
I had my reasons for being a prick. When you got a person angry, they revealed their true self, which made it easy to spot a lie. I was reluctant to admit that so far, Hope had passed every one of my questions with flying colors. Maybe Brandon was right about her. Relief swept through me because my instincts hadn’t failed me after all.
A cartel princess with morals and a conscience. Go figure.
I pressed my lips together. “Okay. Let’s say I believe you. For now.”
Hope shifted on her feet nervously. “What do you want with me?”
“Just one thing. I need you to help us find your father.” As far as I was concerned, that was the only way for Hope to prove that her passionate distaste for Espinoza and his cartel was real.
She bared her teeth. “You come here accusing me of being the enemy, and now you want my help?”
“The way I see it, you need me more than I need you.”
“The last thing I need in my life is another controlling, violent man.”
Goddammit. This would be so much easier done my way instead of Brandon’s. I’d have Hope bound and gagged in the back of my truck, and we’d be on our way to the airport already.
Diplomacy. Discretion , I reminded myself, cringing internally that my job had been reduced to this. Hand me a rifle, and point me at the enemy. That was what I was good for. Not this negotiating bullshit.
I took a deep breath and focused on the team’s goal. Taking down Espinoza.
“If you truly hate your father like you claim, why wouldn’t you help us?”
“Because I don’t trust you. My entire life has been dictated by overbearing men forcing me one way or another, and not once has it worked out well for me. And now you show up and back me into a corner?—”
“You were backed into a corner before I got here.” I lowered my chin. “What do you want, Hope? Is it your plan to stay in this village pretending to be someone else forever?”
“I like it here,” she said quietly, her voice thick with emotion. “I don’t know what my future holds, but I don’t want to leave.”
“Then know this. Playa de la Palmera is running out of time. I wasn’t lying when I said the cartel has its sights set on doing business here, so let me tell you what will happen unless we put a stop to it. Your father will send men, and when this community makes a stand against them, he’ll send more. And not the newbies we encountered last night. I’m talking about experienced hitters who’ll spill as much blood as necessary to get the job done. Maybe that murderous ex-fiancé of yours will even turn up and start dismembering people if he wants to make an example. You don’t want that, do you?”
Anguish lined her face, and she shook her head.
“I thought so. Believe it or not, I don’t want that, either.”
Hope’s decision lay in the balance. I sensed that she wanted to believe me but wasn’t sure if she should. It took a huge leap of faith for someone as guarded as Elena Espinoza to share secrets with a man like me. And since Brandon wanted her loose-lipped and compliant, there was no way around it. I had to find a way to get her to trust me. I was out of my depth here, but I had an idea.
“Would it help if you spoke to a colleague of mine?” I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Someone who could vouch for me?”
“Who?” Hope asked.
I dialed Sage for a video call. “It’s probably best if you talk to her.”
There was something about Hope that reminded me of Brandon’s wife. They were both bold, brave, and didn’t take crap from men. They’d probably like each other.
Sage picked up after a few rings, and her smiling face filled the screen. “What’s up, buttercup?” She moved through the barn, probably taking care of the animals that needed tending to each morning.
Back home in Montana, our team of ex–black ops mercenaries operated out of a working ranch. Brandon had made a few upgrades to the sprawling property. We had our own airstrip and a hangar full of aircraft, vehicles, weapons, and anything an elite assault unit might need to take down a small army. Or, as the case had been lately, cartels.
The ranch also functioned as a halfway house for the women we rescued from sex slavery, as well as a retreat for veterans suffering from PTSD. We offered programs to help them deal with their trauma and reintegrate into society.
Before I could return Sage’s greeting, she winced and brought the camera closer to her face. “Holy shit. Who beat you up?”
I touched my split lip. “No one important. They look worse.”
“I’ll bet.” A rooster crowed in the background. “Hey, I have someone who wants to see you.” Sage leaned down and scooped up a spoiled, overfed diva of a hen. “Esmeralda wants to say hi. Look, Esme,” she cooed. “Daddy’s on the phone.”
I didn’t embarrass easily, but I could’ve sworn I was standing in a sauna. “Christ, Sage. Put her down. This isn’t a good time. I need your?—”
“Stop being such a cranky ass and say hello to your chicken. Your baby misses you.”
Someone nearby snorted. Pretty sure it was the doc.
Esmeralda bobbed her head and clucked in an excited way like maybe she could see and hear me through the phone. Could chickens do that?
I’d had Esme since she was a hatchling, and she was surprisingly good company. It didn’t hurt that she ate all the spiders around my cabin. I really hated those eight-legged fuckers.
I cleared my throat. “I’ll be home soon, Esme.”
She pecked at the screen, which made Sage laugh. “See? Was that so hard?” She put Esmeralda down and headed out of the barn and into the sunshine. “All right. What can I do for you?”
“Did Brandon fill you in on our phone call last night?”
“Yeah. It almost sounded too crazy to be true. How’s it going with Espinoza’s daughter? Is she anything like her piece-of-shit dad?”
“Ahh”—I held in my laugh—“No. But she’s standing right here, so you can ask her yourself.”
“What?” Sage’s eyes widened. “Thanks a lot, Decker. Why didn’t you mention that?”
“Woman, I’ve been trying.” I rubbed my forehead. “Listen, she prefers to be called Hope now. Can you explain to her what we do?”
“Like, here at the ranch?”
“No. I mean the team. Tell her everything.”
Sage spun, giving me a view of the green mountains behind her. “Sure. Put her on.”
I gestured for Hope to come closer and passed her the phone.
“Hi,” she said cautiously.
“Hi. I’m Sage. Sorry I spoke so rudely just now.”
Hope shrugged. “It was a fair question. And no. I’m nothing like Carlos. Are you a friend of Vaughn’s?”
“He’s found family. Kind of like an annoying older brother who invites himself over, makes a mess, and drinks your last beer.”
Daphne moved nearer to listen in.
“Let me guess,” Sage added. “Decker rolled into town, forgot to put away his teeth and claws, and made a shitty first impression. Am I right?”
“Nailed it.”
“I know he looks all menacing and murdery, and he is, but only toward people who really deserve it.”
Hope curled her hair behind one ear. “The cartels.”
“And anyone involved in their human-trafficking rings. That’s what Vaughn and the team do. We track down those responsible for stealing women off the streets and forcing them into sex slavery. Then the team goes in, eliminates the shit bags, and rescues the women. The victims are invited to our ranch in Montana, where they’re welcome to stay as long as they like to heal from their trauma. Some even choose to stay and work with us. It’s their choice.”
“You’re part of the team?” Hope asked.
“I guess you could call me support crew. Intelligence, mostly. But I’ve been known to get my hands dirty in the field and teach the bad guys a lesson or two.” Sage’s mischievous smile didn’t convey how brutal she could be. That woman showed her enemies no mercy.
Hope blinked a bunch of times, then her gaze darted between me and Sage as though her world had just tilted on its axis.
Sage shielded her eyes from the sun. “I’m sensing you’ve still got reservations about Vaughn, and that’s probably because his foot has been permanently lodged in his mouth since you met. I’m betting you already wish you could tear it out and shove it up his ass.”
I frowned. “When I called asking for your help, this wasn’t what I had in mind.”
“I’m not finished.” Sage held one finger up. “What I was going to say is that beneath all that bossiness and snark, he’s one of the good ones. I’ve known Vaughn for years, and when we were putting the team together, he was the first to sign up. And if that isn’t convincing enough, just know that the man standing next to you has saved the lives of countless women who were living their worst nightmare. In my book, that makes him a hero.”
Hope gave a small nod. Would Sage’s words be enough for her to trust me?
I took the phone back and smirked into the camera. “A hero, huh?”
“Shut up,” Sage snapped. “You know you are. Don’t make me regret saying it out loud.”
“I’m going to remind you every chance I get. Might even buy a cape.”
“With any luck, it’ll get caught around your neck and strangle you,” she said with mock sweetness.
I laughed and then realized Hope and Daphne were watching with matching confused expressions. “I’d better go. Make sure you give Esme those special pellets I bought. And extra lettuce in the afternoon.”
“I will. Brandon’s kind of busy around the ranch today, so if you need anything else, call me. And give Hope my number. Tell her to call if she needs any pro tips on how to piss you off.”
“Yeah, I don’t think she needs any help with that. Later.” I hung up, slotted the phone in my pocket, and turned to Hope. “Now do you believe me?”
“Maybe,” she said hesitantly. “Enough that I’m willing to hear you out at least.” She glanced over her shoulder toward the yard when one of the strays howled. “I need a few minutes to finish taking care of the dogs. Dee, can you show Vaughn inside?”
“That depends.” Daphne propped one hand on her hip. “Can I have my shotgun back?”
I picked the weapon up and perched it on my shoulder. “I’ll look after it for now.”
“I don’t need it anyway.” The doc turned and limped up the three steps to the porch. “I’ve got plenty more in the house.”
I followed her. “I’m not even remotely shocked by that.”
“I also know how to kill someone in their sleep and make it look like an accident.”
“Noted.” I was starting to like her.
I paused at the top of the stairs to watch Hope walk around the side of the house with the black mastiff following.
“She won’t run, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Daphne opened the front door, and a half dozen mutts swarmed my ankles. “She always thought this day might come. Reckons this is her home now, and if her past catches up with her, she’ll face it. Stubborn girl refuses to let anyone get caught up in her mess and intends to go without a fight if her old man ever comes to claim her. Not that I’d let that happen, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’s sacrificed herself for the good of others. You’d do well to remember that when you start asking your questions.”
“You think she’ll answer them?”
“If it means taking down Carlos Espinoza and getting you out of here, then yeah, I’d say she’ll help however she can.”
Inside the house was organized chaos. Potted plants in every corner made the interior almost as lush as the tropical garden outside. There were shelves of dog-eared books against one wall, and in the middle of the living room were five large dog beds, which I assumed belonged to the pack of mixed breeds who wouldn’t stop sniffing me. From an old leather sofa, a milky-eyed golden retriever lifted its head to scent the air. The space smelled like hairy mutt and disinfectant, reminding me this house operated as a vet clinic.
I followed Daphne toward a small kitchen at the back of the house. Through a sliding glass door, I spotted Hope by the cages scooping dog food into a bunch of shiny bowls. The strays yipped excitedly, watching her prepare their breakfast.
Grass covered most of the large yard, and nearer to the beach was another small dwelling. Either a workshop or casita. Beyond all that was the shimmering blue Pacific Ocean.
“Coffee?” Daphne asked.
I turned and saw her reaching into an overhead cabinet. “Black.”
Her eyes traveled over my dark clothing, and she grunted. “Figures.”
The doc poured two cups and placed one on the breakfast bar for me. “Hope’s got a fiery temper, but she cools off fast. She’ll come inside soon. She’s just gonna need a hot minute to digest what you’ve sprung on her.”
“You calmed down quickly.” I propped the unloaded shotgun against the wall and sat on a barstool.
“I always thought if someone came for her, there’d be a lot more bullets fired.” She sipped her coffee and leaned against the counter. “I might have judged you hastily. Jury’s still out.”
I gestured toward the leg she’d been limping on heavily. “What happened to you?”
She frowned. “Multiple sclerosis. Zero out of ten would recommend.”
I had an aunt with MS, so I knew how frustrating and debilitating the disease could be.
“Don’t give me that pitying look. I’m getting over a flare-up and will be moving better in a few days.” Daphne gestured to the tattoos on my hands. “What happened to you?”
“The ink?”
“No, sunshine. The scars they’re hiding. Your sleeves rode up when you snatched the shotgun from me, and I saw them.”
Daphne had a keen eye. Most didn’t see past the tattoos. She had no way of knowing that the horizontal lines of thickened skin extended the length of my arms and legs and covered most of my torso. One jagged slice for each hour my captors hadn’t convinced me to talk. I wished I could say they were the only scars they’d given me in the days before Brandon and the Zulu guys had found me. My skin was ruined, but that didn’t compare to the mess they’d left my head. I’d never be the same man I’d been before being captured.
“Are you a self-harmer?” she asked.
“No.” I tugged my sleeves down out of habit.
Daphne’s single arched brow told me that answer wasn’t good enough. Ordinarily, I wouldn’t give details about where I’d been and what I’d done, but I had to give her something to continue building trust. Her opinion mattered almost as much as Hope’s.
“They’re war wounds,” I eventually said.
“Afghanistan?”
“Got some scars there. These ones”—I gestured to my arms—“I got someplace else.”
“They don’t look like any war wounds I’ve seen.”
“Seen many?” I sipped my coffee while waiting for her to answer.
She put her mug on the counter. “I was a surgeon at the US military hospital in Germany for a few years. Treated a lot of injuries from bullets, RPGs, and mortars. Never cuts like that.” Her gaze flicked to my wrist.
“I guess I’m just special.” I leaned back in my chair and slung an arm over the one beside me. “Or a really shitty pilot.”
“Air force, then?” she asked.
“Navy. Until I teamed up with the guys I work with now.”
“What do you fly?”
“Back then, mostly Black Hawks. Nowadays, almost anything with wings or a rotor.”
She lowered her chin and choked out a laugh. “Almost anything?”
“That’s what I said.”
“So you’re some kind of aeronautical boy wonder?”
I smirked. “Never said I flew them all well.”
There’d been plenty of bumpy landings. Sometimes, I had to pilot unfamiliar aircraft to get us out of a sticky situation, but I always got the team home safely. Although the saying on a wing and a prayer had been used more than once.
She shook her head. “You’re either a liar or a cocky son of a bitch.”
“I’m definitely one of those things. I’ll let you decide which.”
Daphne held my stare. I sipped my coffee but didn’t back down from her piercing gray eyes. Her nostrils flared, and eventually she said, “You really think your team can crush the Pacific Coast Cartel?”
I guessed she’d decided I wasn’t a liar.
“With Hope’s help, I do.”
“If this puts her life at risk?—”
“Her life is already at risk.” I put the mug on the counter and leaned forward. “The only way she’ll be safe is if we take down Carlos Espinoza and his trusted circle of equally fucked-up associates.”
We both looked toward the backyard where Hope tossed a ball for the big black dog that never seemed to leave her side.
“She’s avoiding me,” I said.
Daphne snorted. “Can you blame her? What you said about her being cartel filth probably cut bone-deep. Hope has spent her life wishing she belonged to any other family but her own. She never wanted to be a part of the cartel. Despite who her father is, that girl has a good heart. Every decent trait that Carlos Espinoza was born without, she has it by the bucketload. Don’t mistake that for weakness. Hope’s strong. Maybe one of the strongest people I’ve ever met.”
Hope put her arms around the dog’s thick neck as though she drew strength from his nearness. A strange ache took root in my chest at her troubled expression. Maybe I’d fucked up by being such an aggressive asshole when I’d arrived. I’d known Brandon should’ve sent someone else.
I pulled the cigarette packet from my pocket. “You mind?”
“I do. This is a drug- and alcohol-free household.”
Which made me wonder, who was the addict?
Daphne’s mouth pulled to the side. “I’ve been clean for over twelve years.”
“What’s your poison?”
“Prescription opioids. Made a bunch of dumb decisions and my little habit got my medical license pulled. Never planned on treating humans again until I got here and the locals were desperate.” She nodded toward Hope. “That girl is a godsend. I’m a solitary creature, but even I get lonely sometimes. Having her to talk to when the temptation to relapse rears its ugly head has saved me more than once.” Her gaze shifted outside again. “Speak of the devil. I think she’s ready for you.”