Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
NOAH (PRESENT)
ONE MONTH LATER
What the fuck was I thinking?
As I sat in the passenger seat of the beat-up 1982 Mercedes they gave us for cover, flying down the deserted highway, I kept coming back to the only answer to my question.
I hadn’t been thinking.
When I was training at the Academy, my only goal had been to keep my head down, graduate, and do my job. Going after my father hadn’t been anywhere near what I aimed to achieve.
Until my mother died, and all the repressed anger I felt toward him resurfaced.
When she passed, my grief grew a life of its own and I could barely control it. So when I was tasked to join Jamal’s father’s task force to do the one thing I’d told myself I wouldn’t, I hadn’t hesitated.
I’d spent countless days and sleepless nights finding anything that could rid me of my father once and for all. We were so close to doing just that until my dear father killed my partner and the only remote father figure I’d had in my life.
The hours spent at Jamal’s side seeing him agonize through his recovery from the burns he’d suffered and the loss of the only family he had fueled the resentment I harbored toward my father even further.
I’d tried everything. And each failure in bringing him and his rotten empire down twisted deeper into the wound he’d created the moment I became the heir to his throne.
Guilt had gnawed at me day and night. I’d barely ate or slept and had focused all of my energy wrapping my head around my new and unexpected guardian role and seeking justice for what my own blood did to his.
After three months of dead ends, the bureau had forced me off the case because I’d neglected every other aspect of my job and they’d deemed me too close to the case to be objective over my partner’s killer.
Not because of my lineage since they didn’t know that the man I’d been after was my father.
I had objected and fought to be kept on the case until I’d gotten a call from Jamal’s doctors announcing that he was finally ready to be discharged.
When I’d heard the news, it had been like a switch had been turned off. The urge to bring down Barrera had evaporated and protecting Jamal had become the only thing I focused my mind on.
I’d quit my position, called the Academy to see if their offer to be a training officer was still standing, and accepted the position the same day. I’d then packed my life in Sardenya and moved back to Blackwell with Jamal.
I hadn’t given a single thought to my previous life until my assistant, Sami, told me that Omar Barrera had been seen fleeing the docks with a building in ruins and a body in his wake.
I’d brushed it off like I’d always done until he’d mentioned Jamal’s and his wife’s names. I’d never felt fear so gripping as the one I felt when I thought Barrera had taken him away from me as well.
I’d never driven so fast to the hospital to make sure Jamal wasn’t another body added to my father’s long list of victims.
Seeing the look on Jamal’s face when he confessed that he’d known Barrera was the man behind his parents’ deaths had been a rude awakening. It might have been too late to confess to the burden I’d been carrying over the last twenty years, but I’d promised myself at that moment that I’d make sure the expression of defeat on my nephew’s face would never see the light of day again.
After my visit at the hospital, I’d rushed back to work and locked myself in my office to look into the manila folder Sami had put on my desk before I’d left in a hurry. To say I hadn’t expected what I’d found inside would be an understatement.
My eyes had flicked over the victim’s features. Features eerily similar to those of the man who had tried to kill me all those years ago—or should I say, had someone try to.
The victim left in the rubble of the building was none other than Mateo Barrera, Omar Barrera’s only son (that he claimed) and my stepbrother.
I’d spent years detaching myself from the person I was born to become. I’d spent months making sure I would never become the person he wanted me to be.
I’d fooled myself into thinking I could move on and make a life for myself with no ties to him. But the reality was that my future had always been tied to him and I hated it.
There was only one thing I could do to end this.
Become the person I swore I’d never be.
“Will I get the silent treatment for the whole time we work together?”
I side-eyed Dale, watching as he reached for the A/C to crank it up. “We haven’t started the job yet, so there’s nothing to talk about.”
“We could get to know each other since we’ll be spending however long this undercover job takes us together,” he proposed, giving me a tentative smile.
This wasn’t my first time going undercover, but the Bureau had insisted that Dale, my point of contact—the one I was assigned to check in with every week—traveled with me instead of staying back at the Bureau. That had been their only condition before accepting that I take over the case since I had previous knowledge of the Barrera cartel.
“We’re not dating,” I grunted. This was exactly why I worked alone. No unnecessary chatting. “Just remember what your new identity is and don’t fuck up.”
Dale was a good agent, but he was too talkative for my liking. I preferred quiet, hence why I always kept to myself. I did my job and people respected me for it.
That’s all I needed.
Relationships weren’t made for me. The more distance I put between myself and people, the better. That way, no one could get hurt.
That’s a little too late, my mind added, but I ignored it.
Besides, they were better off without me in their lives.
Dale sighed, resigning himself from trying. “Got it. You’re not my type anyway. I prefer warmer people.”
I groaned and kept my eyes on the road. A bead of sweat trickled down my forehead and I grabbed the hem of my white shirt to wipe my drenched face. Despite the A/C’s best effort, it wasn’t enough to battle the scorching weather outside.
It was late in the afternoon and I looked at the navigation system to see that we were about an hour away from Bab Al Mansour. I rolled my window down, hoping the highway speeds would help, and took in the air outside.
It was hot and extremely dry, but the smell of the mountains felt oddly familiar. I hadn’t been back here since the day I left. I never had a desire to and still didn’t.
I took a deep breath and tried to settle my nerves. Doing my job was easy. Facing my father after years, on the other hand, was setting my anxiety on fire. Coming face to face with the man who was supposed to love me but instead wanted me dead was turning out to be harder than I thought it would be.
I felt a multitude of emotions whenever I thought of him. I always believed I’d never cared. My mother had been so loving and caring that I’d buried all the horrible memories of my childhood involving him in the deepest parts of my mind until they’d vanished from my history.
But for some reason, every suffocated emotion was resurfacing even when, right now, I was pretending to be someone else.
Wringing my knuckles, I gazed out my window and worked to shut down the tumult inside my gut.
“I’m hungry. Can we stop?” Dale whined.
Why did they pair me with this guy?
“Can’t you wait until we get there?” I said, glancing at him, only to find him giving me a pleading smile. If I didn’t agree, he would keep talking and I’d rather delay our arrival than listen to him complain.
I shook my head and scoffed. “Fine, the next exit has a—” Before I could finish my sentence, I heard the skidding of tires and snapped my attention back to the road.
“Watch out,” I shouted at Dale as I grabbed the wheel to get out of the way of the two black SUVs now halted in front of us on the previously deserted road.
Dale stomped on the brakes and we swerved to the right in a haste. I whipped the steering wheel back straight in hopes of redirecting the car so we could flee away from whoever was ambushing us, but it was too late.
Everything happened so fast. Our vehicle veered off the road, hitting the roadside ditch with such force that it lifted us in the air and landed on its rooftop.
The moment stretched into what felt like an eternity before everything stopped. The front shield shattered into a million pieces and broken glass and gravelly dust flew all around us.
Sharp pieces pierced my skin and my head throbbed from the impact. Everything was such a blur when I opened my eyes. I shook my head and ignored the searing pain on my right shoulder because if we were to make it out alive, I had to act fast.
The engine was still running and smoke poured inside. The smell of gasoline overpowered my senses and I could hear Dale coughing in the distance, but I forced myself to tune him and everything else out to focus on how I could get out and get us out of here before we ended up gunned down.
Groaning, I reached for my seat belt to unfasten it. “ Tfou ? 1 , ” I cursed through gritted teeth when it didn’t give way. “Unlock, you son of a bitch.” I struggled for a few more seconds until I heard it click.
Then gravity pulled me with such a strong force that my breath caught in my throat as I fell down with a loud thud. I briefly glanced to my left and noticed Dale was barely moving. Gravel and glass grated my skin as I reached over and shook his arm to make sure he was still conscious.
“Dale, you good, man?” I whispered, praying I wouldn’t have to drag his ass out on top of fighting my way out against whatever was waiting for us outside.
“Yeah,” he coughed up. “Should be better once we get out of this mess.”
Couldn’t agree more.
I shifted my body under the crumpled metal and moved to scoot toward the glove compartment to grab a firearm. I was pulling my arm that was closest to it from under my body when I heard doors opening outside and footsteps approaching—five pairs of them.
Fuck.
I hurriedly popped the glove box open and grabbed my gun, then clicked the safety off. But before I could manage to get out and rid myself of whoever fucked with us, the sound of a bullet perforating skin pierced the air around us.
I looked up at Dale to see if he was injured, only to find a stunned expression on his face. His eyes widened and I spotted a familiar realization in them. And when he opened his mouth to say his final words, only blood poured out of it and ran down his face.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I have to get out of here before I’m next.
I crawled out of the passenger window, the broken glass scraping against my body as I did. I stayed crouched behind the car, my back against the indented passenger door.
“No need to hide from us,” a voice mocked. “You’re outnumbered and outgunned, so why don’t you take the easy way out?”
I wasn’t here to die. I was here for someone else’s last breath and I wouldn’t give up that easily. I closed my eyes and counted to three before I whipped around and started shooting while keeping cover.
Bullets rained in my direction from different angles and by some miracle, I managed to dodge all of them except one that grazed my already injured shoulder. Fire sprouted across my skin and blood trickled down my arm.
I pushed the pain aside and kept shooting until my chambers were empty. I managed to hit two of them in the head and watched them collapse to the ground before I ducked down again to reload.
I took a quick glance from beneath the car to determine their positions. I was about to come out and fire again when the one who seemed to be their leader spoke again.
“Throw your gun out, Noah.” The sound of my name out of his lips sent a shiver down my spine. How the fuck does he know who I am?
There was only one person in this region who knew who I was.
My father.
That motherfucker. I should have known better. I should have known he would find out I was back.
I mentally went through the options I was faced with. Either I surrendered and subjected myself to whatever he had planned for me or fought my way through and risked getting shot.
Either way ended with me dying, but one seemed like a much more appealing death.
I stood and aimed my gun to take the last few men out when the muzzle of a weapon caressed the back of my head.
“We’re gonna tell you one last time, asshole. Drop. Your. Gun,” the person behind me hissed.
I prepared myself to disarm him, but the moment I turned around to grab his weapon, something crashed against the side of my head. My vision blurred and my limbs weakened from the forceful impact against my skull.
I was teetering on the edge of blinding pain. Disoriented, I blinked repeatedly and tried to recover from the blow. But before I could regain consciousness and inflict damage to my assailant, I was hit again and the darkness at the edge of my vision became all-consuming, dragging me into its depth.
The sound of water dripping from a distance stirred me out of unconsciousness.
My head felt heavy as I lifted it and peeled my eyes open. But instead of discerning where I was kept captive, darkness greeted me.
I blinked a few times, thinking it might be a residual from the throbbing pain at the back of my skull, but the pitch-black darkness remained. My mouth was dry and I felt groggy, most likely a side effect from whatever drug they gave me after I collapsed.
Fighting nausea, I tried to take several deep breaths, only to realize something was covering my head. I moved my head around despite the pain to lift it off, but it was useless. The fabric barely moved enough for me to see the dark floor beneath me.
I didn’t know how long I’d been in this position, but it was long enough that my shoulders were painfully sore from the tension exerted on them.
I winced and rolled them back to alleviate whatever was causing the tension, but that only sent more pain sweeping across my entire skull. I tried to reach to soothe it by bringing my hands forward, only to realize I’d been restrained.
My arms seemed to be suspended above my head and my wrists were bound so tight, the slightest movement sent the abrasiveness of whatever was restraining me burning across my skin. I tugged on what seemed like rope and rocked my body sideways to figure a way out, but I barely moved an inch.
The agony I felt with every movement combined with the stench weighing over wherever I was locked up sent my stomach churning and scorching bile rising up my esophagus. My breathing thickened beneath the black hood as I tried to breathe through the rising nausea.
I swallowed harshly against it and continued swaying, hoping they would eventually give out. I kept going, the sound of chains clinking from the ceiling, until I heard faint voices arguing in the distance.
I abruptly stopped.
If they thought I was still unconscious, they’d speak more freely and I might survive another day without a bullet to the head.
The chime of their voices grew louder as something creaked from afar before it seemed to be slammed shut. Dim lighting filtered inside my cell and their footsteps getting closer followed it.
Their chatter was barely perceptible, but I recognized one of the voices. It was the same one from the ambush. He most likely was my father’s right hand since he was the only one who spoke directly to me. The others seemed to only be following his orders.
As they got closer, another voice in the mix sounded familiar—more than the others. But since I still couldn’t quite pinpoint what they were saying or who was speaking, I simply brushed it off.
My mind must be playing tricks on me.
Instead, since I could barely see through the fabric, I zeroed in on all my other senses. One of them was bound to slip and say or do something I could use to escape.
“How long has he been out?” That same familiar voice asked again in Arabic.
A woman’s.
My mind must be in such a fog because I was sure I was imagining it. My dad didn’t hire women. He despised them.
“Three days now,” someone answered.
I’ve been out for three days? Fuck.
I shut my eyes and forced myself to steady my breathing, staying as still as I could manage. The rattling of metal was followed by a clunk sound in the space before some sort of gate screeched on its hinges.
Their steps faltered to a stop a few feet in front of me. I couldn’t see well through the fabric, but I did see their shadows dancing through the small slit between my chin and neck.
There were three of them—two men and a woman.
One of the men approached me and nudged my chest with a piece of wood, probably a staff. One of my dad’s favorite tools for his men to use during interrogation. He’d always said that it was the perfect object to inflict pain with precision.
He ran the tip over my front before pressing the end of his rod into my solar plexus as he eagerly asked, “Can I wake him up?”
If I could see him, I bet his eyes were lit up with malicious excitement.
My mouth pinched shut as he continued pressing further into my diaphragm, making it hard to breathe. It was becoming harder and harder to stay put and not kick him.
Instead of waiting for a response from whoever was in charge, I watched his shadow bringing the staff upward and swinging it like a baseball bat straight into my already bruised and probably broken ribs.
It took every ounce of willpower to stifle my reaction to the force of his hit. I’d been tortured in the past, more than most agents with how often my father beat me black and blue, but fuck if his strike didn’t hurt.
He repeated the same motion a few times until she spoke up.
“Enough,” she said sternly. “Remember Rai’s wants him alive.”
“But we could still toy with him a little,” he replied, bringing his staff up once again. I prepared for his next hit when the sound of a gun cocking filled the room.
“I said no,” she ordered.
“All good, Lalla Ines,” he said with a nervous chuckle. She was probably pointing her gun straight at him. “I was just messing around.”
After several moments, the man from the ambush let out a loud sigh and declared, “We should get going. He’s clearly not waking up anytime soon if he didn’t after the roughing Zouhair just gave him.”
The door screeched as they closed it and their footsteps were now going in the opposite direction. I didn’t dare swallow or breathe until their steps were now a muffled sound.
Thank fuck.
The pained groan I’d been keeping in finally escaped my lips.
“Look who finally decided to join us,” the woman, Ines, said.
I remained silent, hoping I’d just imagined her voice and that she wasn’t actually here.
But I could feel her watching me.
I cursed myself under my breath. I should have known someone stayed behind. I was so focused on not giving myself up that I didn’t pay attention to how many of them had left.
She spoke again. “Ready to tell me what an Agent is doing on Barrera’s territory?”
I didn’t respond.
“All right, I guess you’re choosing the hard way,” she said, turning a light on. I could feel her coming closer until she stopped right in front of me, the tip of her shoes brushing against mine. Then her hand tapped my covered cheek before she grabbed the fabric over my head and slid it off.
The hood landed on the ground next to us.
I peeled my eyes open and my vision slowly adjusted until my gaze met my captor’s. Piercing dark green eyes clashed against my dark brown ones—eyes that had haunted my dreams since I last saw them.
I opened my mouth to say her name, but no words came out as my mind debated whether she was a mirage or not, something my mind manufactured to torture me.
Awareness of who was in front of me filtered through my haze and acted as an earthquake to my senses. My body jerked back to life after being asleep for three days. Everything around us faded into oblivion and all the memories we shared together swept through my veins until they invaded my brain.
That’s when her furrowed features smoothed into the same conclusion I’d come to.
Standing in front of me was the woman I hadn’t stopped thinking about since the first time I saw her.
The one who got away.
And now my father’s sicario.
Amalia fucking Abara.
1 ? Fuck.