Chapter Nine
Carajo. Enrique gnashed his teeth as two thugs turned toward Lourdes.
He swung at one of his assailants, desperate to get back to her.
The man ducked and landed a blow to Enrique’s ribs.
Pain radiated. Backed against the wall, he kicked and punched like a madman.
The strangers ducked his blows and threw their own.
In the holes of the masks, their dark eyes burned with life and excitement.
Familiarity. The men matched Enrique’s moves tit-for-tat as though they’d choreographed it.
His instincts itched. Something wasn’t right.
Furious heat seared his face from a solid right hook.
Cold air knifed through the open doorway and chilled his skin.
The embers in the hearth crackled with bitter mockery.
He’d worked so hard to keep his woman safe.
Hidden. If he fired now, the others would respond in kind.
Lourdes could be caught in the crossfire.
“Let the girl go. She doesn’t need to see this.” He dodged a blow and stalled for precious moments he didn’t have. “I’ll answer for my crime—”
“No!” Lourdes dashed to the fireplace and grabbed an iron poker. “We’ll answer together.”
Mierda. She was going to get herself killed.
To the thugs’ credit, none of them leveled their firepower at her.
So they wanted Lourdes alive. Gracias a Dios. He could live with that. Rather die with that if these assholes had their way.
“If you value your lives,” Enrique spat at the strangers, feigning control of the situation, “then you will not lay a fucking finger on my woman. If you do, I will cut out your intestines and hang you with them.” He’d killed that way before.
Twice. When he made examples out of two human trafficking rapists.
A bark of laughter shattered the tension.
“My God, Ricky. You’ve got it bad.” The man tugged off his mask and flashed his lopsided grin.
Enrique’s blood froze. “Santiago?” His shoulders slumped. Rage drained from him like air from a punctured balloon. “Goddamn it. I could’ve killed you.”
“You tried.” Santiago de la Fuente rubbed the back of his dark-blond head and winced. A purplish-red bruise marred his cheek. “Got a goose egg.”
Enrique swore and turned to the other men. “Masks off, you bastards.”
One by one, they obeyed.
Domingo Vega gave a lazy two-fingered salute and shoved his gun into his shoulder holster. His curly dark hair softened the hardness of his whiskered jaw.
Near the doorway, Muniz and Rascón dipped their heads in respect and holstered their weapons.
Enrique pressed the cold steel of his gun to his forehead, breathing hard, and lowered his arm. “Now it makes sense.” He leveled a harsh glare at Domingo, the youngest man in the room and the finest hacker he knew. “Took you no time at all to find me.”
“Long enough, mi amigo.” Domingo smirked before he plucked the eyeglass case from his pants pocket and perched the black frames on his nose.
“Rubén’s been losing his damn mind since your call.
I figured it out yesterday—your property records.
No one had ever heard about you owning a cabin, so the boss sent us to check it out.
We had to wait until dark to move without drawing eyes. ”
Cristo. He’d put the deed for the cabin under an assumed name. Domingo linking that to him proved the man’s extraordinary cyber gifts beyond a doubt.
Santiago stepped forward and surveyed the room with a wry curl of his lip. “Had we known you were busy, we would have waited an hour. Smells like a damn sex den in here.”
“Shut it,” Enrique snapped and stalked over to Lourdes in the sitting area. He gently pried the poker from her hands and set it back in its stand. Why he always let Santiago get under his skin, he’d never know.
“Enrique,” Lourdes entreated with a breathy voice. “What should we do?”
He pulled her against him. “Stay calm. My men were just leaving.”
“Not without you two. Boss’s orders,” Santiago countered and sheathed his weapon.
He strode toward them. “Give me any reason to throw down again, Ricky. Just one. Do you even know the size of the shitstorm you’ve stirred up?
Not only did we”—he swiped his hand between himself and the others—“have to travel to the fucking backwoods of Chihuahua in the middle of the goddamn night, Zayas is calling for your head on a platter.”
Snorting, Enrique rubbed the back of his suddenly aching neck.
“Have you heard from my father?” Lourdes asked, clinging to the back of Enrique’s jeans like she needed an anchor.
“Watch how you speak to her,” Enrique warned as Santiago opened his mouth. Of all the men here, he was the one Enrique didn’t trust not to get his teeth kicked in for spouting off.
“Screw you. The ladies love me for a reason.” Santiago turned his thousand-watt smile on the only lady in the room and swept his gaze in a slow perusal down her body before he winked at her. “Senora Villegas, it’s a pleasure to see you again. Do you mind if I call you Lourdes?”
“Get on with it,” Enrique bit out. Though Lourdes had met Santiago and Domingo before, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen them.
“That’s fine,” she replied, steel deepening her tone, “but I prefer senorita. I’m no longer married, though that will change soon enough.” She met Enrique’s gaze on that last part.
Santiago’s lips twisted as though her announcement stumped him.
“Well, Lourdes, we have heard from the Villegas jefe. His tech whiz is shit compared to Domingo, but the man eventually found a traffic cam feed that caught lover boy hightailing it out of Durango with you slumped over beside him. Rubén had no choice but to admit he knew Ricky took you. If you marry Zayas, there’s peace, but Enrique has to make amends. Somehow.”
“What does Rubén say?” Enrique demanded.
“You’ll have to ask him,” Santiago hedged and shifted his feet.
Lourdes dragged in a chest-shuddering breath and tightened her grip on him.
“Easy, princess.” He faced her and clasped her flushed cheek. “I’ll talk to Rubén and your father. We’ll work this out.”
“If I have to marry Diego, I will. I’ll make it a condition of everyone leaving you alone.”
Enrique growled. “We’ve been through this, Lourdes. You’re going to marry me. That hasn’t changed just because my friends crashed our retreat.”
She side-eyed his men before notching her chin at him. “Introductions, if you please. I know Santiago and Domingo, but not what they do for the Lozanos. All Jacobo ever said was that Rubén’s friends were users, sidling up to the cartel prince.”
Santiago balked at that as Domingo frowned. “Users?” Santiago snapped. “That prick.”
Enrique glared at each of the four men. “Santi is a senior capo and runs the hospitality and nightclub sector; D is our tech guru. They’re both part of Rubén’s council, same as me.
” He’d befriended them years earlier when they were in training together.
Though he trusted Muniz and Rascón, he would never hold them to the same bar.
The wall of propriety between boss and subordinates must be kept—Rubén had taught him that.
He nodded first at his short, muscled lieutenant, then at the wiry, tattooed guard.
“Lieutenant Muniz, my second-in-command. Rascón, one of my best enforcers.”
She offered his friends a small smile, then faced the others. “Nice to meet you.”
Enrique rolled his eyes. Nice wasn’t the word he’d use.
He paced behind the sofa, frustration roiling in his chest. He’d poured everything into planning this escape, into giving Lourdes a chance to see him as the lesser of two evils.
He stood to lose everything if Rubén sided with the Villegas jefe.
If only he could’ve gotten that marriage certificate signed and certified.
Just one more day. Twenty-four hours. That was all he’d needed.
Now, his plan was over. Blown to hell. His comrades hadn’t just found him—they outplayed him.
Violated his private place. The world just had to claw its way back in before he was ready.
The clock on the mantel struck five, driving his frustration home. He turned to Domingo. “How did you get past my perimeter sensors? You only tripped one of them.”
A multitude of alarms should’ve blared long before the intruders reached the cabin.
“Don’t remind me.” Domingo grunted and pushed up his glasses. “I piggybacked off a local signal and disabled your motion alerts from the access point. The outer security recognized my credentials and stayed silent, except for that one damn sensor.”
Enrique flashed the hacker a shit-eating grin. Ego always got in the way—Enrique knew that better than most. He scowled at his computer, now in hibernation mode. “So much for my fortress. This retrieval mission was below your pay grade,” he snapped the last at Santiago.
“I volunteered,” Santiago drawled, ever smug. “I had to see it for myself. Enrique Briceno, by-the-book cartel golden boy, going rogue for some woman. Incredible.”
“Watch it,” Domingo murmured, more warning than joke.
Enrique exhaled sharply and dragged Lourdes closer.
“There was no need to break in,” Lourdes admonished the intruders. “You found us. Good for you. But you should’ve knocked on the door. Not barge in, guns drawn. Despite everything, Enrique is your superior and deserves your respect. I sure as hell do as well.”
As Domingo ducked his gaze, Santiago smirked at her. “Damn. I don’t remember you being this mouthy.”
“Bastard.” Enrique stomped two feet toward Santiago before Lourdes clutched his arm and pulled him back. He glowered at the grinning idiot. “Things have changed.”
“Obviously. You—”
“We knew you’d be armed,” Muniz cut in, stopping Santiago from jamming his foot deeper in his mouth.
The lieutenant’s gravelly voice bore the scars of chain-smoking and a botched throat-slitting.
The permanent whitish-brown crease on his neck deepened in the low light.
He stepped forward with his arms loose at his sides.
“Anyone who came through that door—you would attack first, question later. Zayas and Villegas both have teams looking, and for all we knew, they were already in here, holding you hostage. Though we didn’t see anyone on our way in. ”
“We’ve got more men outside,” Rascón added from the doorway. “Cabin’s surrounded. We’re secure for now.”
Enrique grumbled a curse. Boxed in and protected all at once. Figures. “We were leaving in the morning anyway,” he gritted out.
“Not fast enough. Boss wants a status report.” Santiago pulled his phone from his inner jacket pocket and flicked his hand at the others. “Come on, guys. Let’s give the lovebirds privacy to pack. We leave in ten.” He led the way outside, the others in pursuit.
Breathing easier, Enrique brushed his hand down Lourdes’s arm and pressed a kiss to her temple. “Our plan hasn’t changed. We’re still getting married.”
She rested her hands on his bare chest. “I’m sorry about panicking. I’m just worried. Reality is closing in and suffocating us.”
“Then we fight it. Together, Lourdes. If we fail, so be it.”