Chapter Twenty

Royce

K eeping my face blank is harder than it should be as I stare down Carlos. This fucking bastard has a machete to Mackenzie’s throat and wants to tell us a fucking story.

I don’t know if he’s just absolutely bonkers or if he’s realized he has no chance of making it out of here alive, but he certainly seems set on telling us why he did what he did. I can’t exactly complain about it because it’s the proof we need to clear Parker’s name. What this idiot doesn’t seem to know is that we’re filming everything that’s happening right now. As soon as we get Mackenzie away from him, we’ll be taking his phone and calling his boss so we can send him the video.

So I really don’t mind him spilling his guts—I just wish he’d stop holding a knife to her throat.

My eyes flicker to Mackenzie for a moment, anger rushing through me at the tears streaming down her cheeks as she trembles in his hold. She’s petrified, and there’s not a damn thing any of us can do about it until he steps away from her.

“Fine,” I spit out. “Tell us your story.”

“What the f—“ The words burst out of Damon, but he’s cut off by Cormac’s elbow slamming into his stomach. He grunts, bending over as he attempts to catch his breath.

“Shut the fuck up,” Cormac hisses from the corner of his mouth. “We want him to forget you’re here. Take the gun from my waistband. You know how to shoot, right?”

“I do,” he murmurs, shifting so he’s hidden by Cormac’s bulk as he grabs the gun.”

Cormac’s nod is almost imperceptible. “Good. I want you to keep behind us and look for an opening. You’re shooting to injure, not kill. But make fucking sure it’s not going to kill Mackenzie.”

“Got it.”

“Santos and I grew up together. My dad was his dad’s right hand man, so it just made sense for me and Santos to be close. As we got older, we got closer. Apparently, it’s not acceptable for the head of the cartel’s son to be bisexual.” Carlos laughs, his free hand lifting to the scar across the left side of his face. “When his father walked in on us, he lost his shit, and I almost lost my eye. He sent me away to do some grunt work for the next year and arranged a marriage for Santos.

“When I came home, I thought for sure that Santos would welcome me with open arms. He obviously didn’t love his wife—how could he when so little time had passed? But he could barely look at me. Told me some bullshit about wanting to honor his marriage vows and that he thought he could love Rosalie. That they could be happy. I figured it was just because of his dad, but when he died, Santos didn’t change his mind. He still didn’t want to be with me.

“I didn’t understand—I still don’t. With his father dead and gone, there was no one standing in our way. Except Rosalie, I guess. So I took her out of the equation. He loved her more than I thought he did, and her death broke him. It never occurred to me that he could love her even more deeply than he loved me. After all, he was raised to be uncaring. I guess that was something his father just couldn’t beat out of him. I should’ve realized, but I didn’t. It wasn’t something I could’ve anticipated. While I expected to be nursing his broken heart, I was sent to kill the man who I framed. It’s kind of funny when you think about it.”

Parker scoffs. “Yeah, I don’t think anything about that story is funny, but to each their own and all that shit.”

Clearing my throat, I draw Carlos’s attention to me. “Now that you’ve told us your story, what are you expecting to happen? Do you think we’ll feel sorry for you and let you go? Because that’s not happening.”

Carlos lifts his arms to the side in the air, the machete finally away from Mackenzie’s neck. I take a moment to check on the cut there, but it’s already stopped bleeding.

Thank goodness.

“I don’t know what to expect. Maybe I just want someone to know my story before I die. Maybe I want to see if there’s someone out there who can see where I’m fucking coming from. I don’t fucking know.”

“I’m sorry you went through that.” Mackenzie’s voice is barely above a whisper, shaking along with her.

“What did you say?” Carlos frowns down at her.

She turns her head, her eyes finally opening. “I’m sorry you went through that. It must have hurt. We know a thing or two about abusive, powerful assholes who think loving people of the same gender is beneath their children. It’s not right, but what you’re doing here isn’t right either, is it?”

Carlos seems frozen as he stares down at her before he takes a step back, then another.

A gunshot rings out, and Carlos falls to the floor. The machete flies away from him as his hands go to the gunshot wound in his leg as he applies pressure.

I hurry over, pulling his arms behind his back and zip tying them while the other three hurry over to Mackenzie. A well-placed punch knocks him out. I’ll need him awake later, but for now, it’ll be easier if he’s unconscious.

Parker cuts away Mackenzie’s restraints while Cormac pulls his shirt over his head, dropping it over hers as soon as she’s free, helping her put her arms through the holes.

Damon kneels between her legs, hands on her face. “Are you okay, Mac?”

“Of course, I’m not okay.” She’s shaking harder now, probably dropping after the adrenaline. “How the fuck would I be okay right now?”

“I’m sorry, Mackenzie. This is my fault.” Parker shakes his head.

She grabs his arm. “It’s not your fault. None of this was, but I’d like to get out of here if at all possible. I’m sure there’s more you need to do, but I don’t want to be here for it.”

Without a word, Cormac scoops her into his arms and heads for the door. Damon is hot on his heels while Parker glances between me and them.

“Sorry, Park. I’m going to need you for this next part.” I nod to Carlos’s prone body. “We need to find his phone or computer so we can call Santos and get him the proof he needs. He’ll probably make the decision about what we do with him. We should probably wrap his leg so he doesn’t bleed out.”

Parker makes his way over, spitting on the unconscious man. “He can die for all I fucking care.”

“Let’s not piss off the cartel boss for real this time, shall we?”

Parker rolls his eyes, but nods. I dig into Carlos’s pockets as Parker heads out, searching to see if we’ll find any other electronics in the warehouse. Depending on how long they’ve been using this place, it’s unlikely they’ve left anything laying around, but we need to make sure.

I find his phone and lift it up with a triumphant sound.

“Found the phone, I’m assuming?” Parker asks as he walks back in, a laptop tucked under his arm. “Found this. Don’t know if it’s Carlos’s or not, but it would make sense that Santos might want to see my body after Carlos killed me. The quality of cameras on phones aren’t nearly as good as webcams on most computers. Either way, it should make it easier for us to take care of this. Just give me a few minutes to get into it, and we’ll see what’s going on.”

I shrug, lifting the phone to Carlos’s face so it’ll unlock. I scroll through his contacts, which aren’t many, but it’s easy to find Santos’s number. He’s the only one marked as a favorite on the phone. Pulling up the text messages, I read through the messages they’ve exchanged—all vaguely worded so if anyone got their hands on the phone, no one would suspect what they are really talking about.

It’s pretty much what I was expecting, but not at all helpful to me.

“They have a program they seem to do video calls through,” Parker says as I lock the phone. “I should be able to get into it in just a minute… Or now. I’m in. Want me to call him now?”

“Can you pull up the video from our gear from his computer?”

Parker snorts, glancing back at me. “Can I pull the video, he asks. It’s already done.”

“Then, yes. Call him.” Grabbing a hold of Carlos’s collar, I drag him across the floor to the table where Parker has set the laptop. Grimacing at the trail of blood, I leave behind, I tear Carlos’s shirt off and wrap it around his leg with enough pressure that he shouldn’t bleed out while we’re having this conversation.

“Carlos?” Santos Santiago’s face appears on the screen. “Why isn’t your video on?”

Parker glances at me, and I nod. Santos scowls when I appear on his screen.

“Who the hell are you? Where is Carlos?”

“My name is Royce West, a name I’m sure you’ll recognize as an associate of Parker Hilton. Before you cut me off, Carlos isn’t dead. He’s just unconscious. I’m sorry we had to do this like this, but I didn’t think you’d take our call. Parker didn’t kill your wife, and I have a taped confession from the real murderer. I’d like to send it to you, so you can see who you should’ve been hunting the last two years.”

Parker is just outside of the frame when he calls out, “I’ve already sent the video to your email. Don’t bother asking how I found it. There’s very little that can’t be found on the Internet these days if you know where to look, and I’ve had good motivation.”

“Who’s that?” Santos’s accent seems to thicken as he narrows his eyes.

Parker steps over to stand at my side. “I’m the man who was framed for your wife’s murder.”

“Parker Hilton. I expected you to be dead when I saw your face for the first time.” He rubs his jaw. “Give me a moment to watch this video, but I can promise you that if it doesn’t provide definitive proof that someone else killed her, I’ll be gunning for you twice as hard. Especially if you kill Carlos.”

“He took a gunshot to the leg, but it’s not going to kill him yet. I suggest you watch the video before worrying too much about his welfare though.”

That has Santos’s eyes narrowing again, but his attention quickly shifts—assumedly to the video we sent to him. We get to watch his reaction as emotions splay across his face—shock, disbelief, anger, sadness—before he locks it all down.

“He is in your possession?”

I lift the man off the floor high enough that Santos can see his face clearly. “He is.”

“Leave him there. I assume you’re at the warehouse Carlos purchased in Detroit?” At my nod, he continues. “You’re free to go. I’m having the hit lifted off your head as we speak, Parker. I’m sorry you were caught up in this, but all of the evidence said you were the one who killed her. There isn’t anything I can do to make up for losing the last few years of your life, but if there comes a time that you need my assistance, call me. I’ll do what I can. Assuming you can find my number?”

Parker laughs. “I’d find it eventually, but since we have Carlos’s phone, I think I’ll take it from there.”

“I’m not a man who likes to be wrong, but I will admit it when I am. I didn’t realize how much I hurt Carlos. I never felt for him what he felt for me. Teenagers experiment from time to time, you know? I care for him, but never like that.” Santos shrugs. “Not that you care about that. I’m sorry. Thank you for getting me this. We’ll take it from here.”

“Thank you,” Parker says with a sigh of relief. “I’m not going to lie—I hope I never need your help.”

He laughs. “I hope you don’t either, but at least the option is there. Good day, gentlemen.”

The call disconnects, and I turn to Parker with a smile. “It’s over.”

“It really is.” He pulls me into a hug as he laughs. “Finally, we can move past this.”

“We can, but we should probably get out of here. Santos is sending men over. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be here when they arrive. Plus, I want to see how Damon and Mackenzie are doing.”

Parker nods. “Yes. Let’s do that.”

As I follow him out of the warehouse, I smile. There will be no more looking over our shoulders or worrying about being seen by the wrong person.

We can finally live again, and what a happy thought that is.

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