Chapter 39
“DADDY!”
Mackenzi’s scream tears through the house, with enough terror to send goosebumps racing down my spine.
The hairs on the back of my neck stand upright, as adrenaline detonates through my bloodstream.
I drag my shirt over my head mid-stride, barely managing to shove my arms through the sleeves before rushing out of the door.
The hallway blurs around me as I sprint down the stairs two at a time.
My thoughts immediately go to the darkest corners of my mind.
Intruder.
Threat.
Someone got through security.
I can’t get downstairs fast enough.
“Mackenzi!” I shout back as I descend the final steps fast enough to nearly miss them completely.
When I round the corner and the kitchen comes into view, relief slams through me so fast and hard, I nearly sink to the floor. Mackenzie is alone, standing before the refrigerator with a piece of folded yellow paper clenched tightly in her hand.
Her eyes snap to mine the second I cross the threshold. She looks petrified. It’s not the same panic I saw during the breach. This is different; she looks lost.
I close the distance between us in a few short strides. “What’s wrong?” Unable to answer, she hands me the paper with trembling fingers. I take it from her carefully, dread coiling low in my stomach before I even unfold it.
I’m sorry.
I made a mess of things. I can’t fix the lies, but I know what I need to do to keep you safe from the cartel.
Love, Dad.
My jaw tightens more firmly with each word, my pulse beginning to pound harder. Fuck. I drag a hand roughly through my bed-tousled hair. “Fuck. What the hell is he thinking?”
Mackenzi stares at me like she’s afraid to say the thought out loud. “He wouldn’t go… ” Her voice catches enough for her to have to force the next words out. “To the cartel?”
I don’t answer immediately because I don’t want to lie to her.
Right now? Yeah, I absolutely think her father would.
Desperate men do desperate things. The ambassador has spent the last twenty-four hours watching his entire life collapse around him.
His secrets detonated before a live audience, lie upon lie finally catching up with him after years of pretending he could outrun them, leaving his only child unable to look at him.
Men in situations like his start believing they can fix things alone.
Only, they make stupid decisions that get themselves killed.
I step forward and pull her into my arms before the terror fully takes hold of her. She presses against me hard, her fingers twisting into the front of my shirt. “Hey,” I murmur, one hand sliding into her hair. “We’ll figure this out.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I do.” I will not let this sweet girl lose the only family she has left, even if I have to tear apart half of Colombia to do it.
Her breathing shakes against my chest. “What if he’s already?—”
“We don’t know anything yet.” I cup the back of her head gently and force her eyes up to mine. “And until I know otherwise, I’m not assuming the worst.”
Her eyes search mine desperately, like she’s trying to determine whether I actually believe that. She shouldn’t. Mentally, I’m preparing for bloodshed.
I press a kiss onto her forehead before pulling back slightly and slipping my large hand around her small one. I head straight for the staircase with her in tow. “Go check his room to be sure.” As she races upstairs, I head straight for the command center.
The atmosphere inside is sharp and focused.
Gunnar stands over one of the surveillance monitors, while Hawk sits at the central console, with Jagger leaning against the back wall, coffee in hand.
All three of them look up immediately when I enter, each of them clocking my expression. “Damon?” Hawk speaks first.
“The ambassador is doing something foolish.”
Jagger’s brows furrow. “What are you talking about? He got so piss-drunk last night, he’s probably still upstairs sleeping it off. And the Marines are on him.”
“He’s gone.” I toss the note onto the table. Gunnar grabs it first, reading quickly before passing it to Hawk.
“Fuck,” Hawk grumbles.
“Exactly.”
Gunnar’s jaw flexes. “You think he went to them willingly? To take her place?”
“I think guilt makes people stupid.”
“And proud men worse,” Jagger adds quietly.
“He’s not there.” Mackenzie bursts through the doors breathless.
Hawk’s fingers flit across the screen of his cell phone. “I’m calling his Marine detail.”
The line rings twice before someone answers. “This is Hawk. Tell me the ambassador has a detail with him.”
“Are all of you still at the embassy?”
Another pause.
“Do any of you know he left the compound this morning?”
More silence.
“Jesus fucking Christ.” He tosses the phone roughly onto the desk. “They assumed he was still asleep.”
“Meaning, he slipped out alone,” Gunnar says grimly.
I pull my phone from my pocket immediately and call the ambassador directly.
One ring… Two… Three… Voicemail.
“Fuck.” My stomach tightens harder. I turn quickly toward Mackenzi and hold out my hand. “Give me your phone, trouble.”
Her brows pull together slightly, but she digs into the hoodie pouch and hands it over without question.
I dial the ambassador again using her phone. This time it only rings twice and I draw a breath of relief when the call connects—until an unfamiliar male voice speaks.
“Ah. I was wondering when you would call,” the man says smoothly, with a thick, Colombian accent. “I’m sorry, but Ambassador Bradenburg is a little tied up at the moment.”
Mackenzi goes rigid beside me, watching the screen flip from the voice call to a video one. She gasps. “Oh my God, Dad…”
On the screen, the ambassador hangs from a pipe running along a concrete ceiling, his wrists bound above his head, zipties cutting deep into the skin. His face is swollen nearly beyond recognition, and trickles of blood trail down his bare chest.
A man steps into the frame slowly. He’s mid-forties—maybe—with calm eyes for what’s unfolding behind him. The kind of calm that belongs to predators. He smiles directly into the camera. “Hola, Mackenzi.” Something vicious twists in my gut at the way his gaze lingers on her through the screen.
“I was looking forward to meeting you under very different circumstances, princesita.” His tone darkens with an amused hunger, a wicked smile spreading across his face. “But since your father does not quite fill the role I had planned for you, he is going to have to be useful in a different way.”
My hand tightens around the phone hard enough that the casing creaks. “What do you want?”
The cartel leader’s eyes shift lazily toward me. “Simple.” He steps closer to the ambassador, casually gripping his jaw hard enough to make the man groan. “I have a shipment your ambassador friend was supposed to move quietly into the United States.”
Fuck.
“If you do not want him returned in pieces,” the man continues calmly, “I will need that shipment delivered safely into Miami within the next two days.”
“You’re asking the wrong people,” I retort, keeping my voice level as the color drains from Mackenzi’s face.
“No.” The man smiles slyly. “I do not think I am.”
Then the camera pans toward the ambassador. Blood drips steadily from his mouth as he struggles weakly against the restraints. The cartel leader pats his cheek mockingly. “Say goodbye, Mackenzi.”
The call ends, and Mackenzi stares at the dark screen, holding her breath. Sucking in a sputtered breath, she grabs my arm hard enough to hurt. “You have to help him.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
I wrap one arm tightly around her waist as my mind races at a violent speed.
Fuck! She’s right. The ambassador may have made monumental mistakes, but he’s still her father.
I know exactly what losing him would do to her.
The guys shift into motion around us, but I pause to rest my chin briefly on the top of her head.
“We’re going to get him back,” I promise her quietly.
Her fingertips flex against my chest. “He’s hurt.”
“He is. Badly.” Her face tightens, but I can’t bring myself to lie to her. “But he’s alive,” I add.
Which means they still have leverage.