Depraved (The Dearly Departed #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER 1

Two months month after Diabolic

Layla

T he stench of piss and vomit assaulted my nostrils as I stalked through the dingy alleyway. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting a glow on the crumbling brick walls. My boots splashed through puddles of God-knows-what as I hunted my prey.

Rage simmered just beneath my skin, a constant companion since that night on the docks. The betrayal burned like acid in my veins, Gage's final words echoing in my mind on an endless loop. I love you, Layla. I always have.

Bullshit.

If he loved me, he wouldn't have lied. Wouldn't have made me feel things I'd sworn never to feel.

Fucking narc.

I gritted my teeth, shoving the memories aside. I had a job to do. Raul was counting on me to bring in this informant —a greasy little rat named Javier who'd been feeding information to the cops. I'd tracked him to this cesspool of a neighborhood on the outskirts of Juarez.

A flicker of movement caught my eye. A figure darting between shadows up ahead. I picked up my pace, hand instinctively moving to the gun holstered at my hip.

"Javiiieeerrrr!" I sang, voice dripping with false sweetness. "Why don’t we have a little chat?”

Javier froze for a split second before bolting down a side alley. I cursed under my breath and gave chase, my boots pounding against the cracked pavement.

"Come on, man, I didn’t mean it like that!" I shouted after him, a smile stretching my lips.

The alley opened up into a small courtyard littered with trash and abandoned furniture. Javier stumbled over a broken chair, giving me the opening I needed. I launched myself forward, tackling him to the ground. We went down hard, my knee digging into his back as I pinned him. Javier wheezed and squirmed beneath me, but I had him firmly in my grasp.

"Please," he gasped out. "I'll tell you anything you want to know. Just don't kill me!"

I yanked his arms behind his back, zip-tying his wrists together. "Oh, we're way past that, sugar. You're coming with me."

As I hauled Javier to his feet, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I ignored it, focusing on securing my captive. It was probably just Sarge checking in again. He'd been hovering like a mother hen ever since...

I shoved those thoughts away. No use dwelling on the past. I had a job to do.

"Start walking," I growled, shoving Javier forward. We made our way back through the maze of alleys toward where I'd parked my car. Javier stumbled along in front of me, whimpering softly.

"Please, senorita," he pleaded. "I have a family. Children who need me."

"Should've thought of that before you started ratting to the cops, dickhead."

My phone buzzed again insistently. With an irritated sigh, I fished it out of my pocket while keeping my other hand firmly on Javier's shoulder.

Three missed calls from Sarge.

A text:

CALL ME ASAP. URGENT.

My stomach clenched. Sarge knew better than to interrupt me during an op unless it was an emergency.

I shoved Javier against the brick wall, pressing my forearm across his throat. "Don't even think about moving," I hissed.

Keeping one eye on my captive, I quickly dialed Sarge's number. He picked up on the first ring.

"Where the hell have you been?" he demanded. "I've been trying to reach you for hours."

"I'm working, in case you forgot," I snapped. "What's so damn urgent?"

Sarge's voice dropped low. "We've got a lead on Gage. He's been spotted."

My breath caught in my throat. For a moment, the world seemed to tilt on its axis. "Where?" I managed to choke out, my grip on the phone tightening.

"San Diego. One of our guys recognized him at a cafe downtown. He was meeting with someone—we're not sure who yet. But he's there, Layla. We've finally found the son of a bitch."

A conflicting blend of emotions churned inside me—rage, anticipation, a twisted sort of excitement. And underneath it all, a tiny flicker of something I refused to name. I ruthlessly stomped it out.

"Fuck," I breathed. "I'm on my way back now. Just have to take out the trash real fast.” In one fluid motion, I raised the gun and squeezed the trigger.

The silenced shot was barely louder than a cough. Javier's head snapped back, a small, neat hole appearing in the center of his forehead. His body crumpled to the ground, blood and gray matter splattering the grimy brick wall behind him.

I watched dispassionately as a pool of crimson spread beneath his head, soaking into the grimy concrete. The coppery scent of blood filled the air, mixing with the stench of garbage and urine.

"It's done," I said flatly into the phone.

Sarge cursed under his breath. "Jesus Christ, Layla. I was going to tell you to bring him in alive. We could've used him."

I shrugged, though he couldn't see it. "Too late now. You should've led with that instead of the Gage info."

"Just... get your ass back home. I'm sending a cleanup crew for Javier."

"Roger that," I replied coolly.

I ended the call and slipped the phone back into my pocket. For a moment, I simply stood there, staring down at Javier's lifeless body. The pool of blood had spread, soaking into the cuffs of my jeans. I'd have to burn these later.

With practiced efficiency, I pulled out my gun once more. The sleek black metal gleamed dully in the dim light of the alley, the attached silencer a menacing cylinder protruding from the barrel. I'd had this particular piece custom-made—a beautiful, deadly work of art.

I aimed carefully at Javier's head, lining up the shot. His eyes stared sightlessly up at the night sky, already starting to glaze over. A trickle of blood ran from the corner of his mouth, stark crimson against his sallow skin.

The trigger was smooth under my finger as I squeezed, the recoil barely noticeable. Two more muffled coughs from the silencer, and two more holes appeared in Javier's skull. Insurance—can't be too careful these days. I probably should have felt slightly bad, but Javier was a traitor, and he deserved a traitor’s death. Anyone who went squealing to the feds did.

I holstered the weapon and turned away, leaving Javier's cooling corpse behind me. The cleanup crew would take care of disposal. Right now, I had bigger fish to fry. I reached my car and slid behind the wheel, pulling out my phone once more. As I navigated out of the maze of narrow streets, I dialed Alex's number.

"What's up, killer?" he answered on the third ring, voice thick with sleep.

"Wake up, pretty boy," I said, pulling onto the main road. "We've got work to do."

Alex groaned. "It's the middle of the fucking night. Can't it wait til morning?"

"Nope. Sarge has a lead on Gage. He's in San Diego."

There was a pause, then the rustle of sheets. "Shit. You sure?"

"One of our guys spotted him. We need to move fast before he slips away again."

"Alright, I'm up. What's the plan?"

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel, mind racing. "Book us flights to San Diego, earliest one you can get. I'll swing by and pick you up in a little over four hours. Pack light—we may need to move fast."

"On it. See you soon."

I sped through the dark streets of Juarez, my mind racing as fast as the car. After two months of chasing shadows and false leads, we finally had a real chance at catching Gage. The betrayal still burned, but now it was tinged with a sick sort of excitement. I loved a good chase.

The sleek black Audi purred as I guided it through the winding roads leading to the Cortez villa. The moon hung low and heavy in the sky, lighting up the gorgeous New Mexican desert landscape.

As I approached the guard towers, two armed enforcers stepped out of the shadows. Their hands rested on holstered weapons as they peered into my car, faces impassive behind dark sunglasses despite the late hour. I rolled down my window, the cool night air rushing in.

"Evening, boys," I drawled, flashing my ID. "Miss me?"

The taller one smirked and waved to another guy to open the gate for me. "Welcome back, Miss Cortez."

I eased the car through, gravel crunching under the tires as I made my way up the long, winding driveway. The sprawling adobe-style mansion loomed ahead, warm light spilling from a few windows. Most of the house was dark—it was nearly 3 AM after all.

I pulled into my usual spot in the circular driveway and cut the engine. For a moment, I sat in silence, listening to the tick of the cooling engine and the chirp of crickets in the surrounding desert. My body ached from the long drive, and exhaustion tugged at my soul.

I dragged myself out of the car, muscles protesting after hours behind the wheel. The cool night air raised goosebumps on my skin as I made my way up the stone steps to the massive oak front door. It swung open silently at my touch—the security system recognizing my biometrics.

The foyer was dimly lit, the crystal chandelier overhead casting soft shadows across the polished marble floor. My boots echoed in the cavernous space as I headed for the sweeping staircase. A gnawing ache had settled in my chest, urging me to check on Raul before I left again.

I paused outside his bedroom door, listening. A rhythmic beeping filtered through the thick wood—the heart monitor that had become a constant companion these past months. Beneath it, I could hear the rasp of labored breathing.

Easing the door open, I slipped inside. The room was bathed in a soft amber glow from the bedside lamp. Medical equipment crowded around the massive four-poster bed, a tangle of wires and tubes connecting to the frail figure lying motionless beneath the covers.

Raul's face was gaunt, cheekbones sharp beneath papery skin. Dark shadows bruised the hollows beneath his eyes. His silver hair, once thick and lustrous, now lay lank against the pillow. An oxygen mask covered the lower half of his face, fogging with each shallow breath.

I approached Raul's bedside, my throat tight as I took in his frail form. The man who had been like a father to me, who had molded me into the deadly force I was today, now looked so small and vulnerable. His chest rose and fell in shallow, labored breaths, each one seeming to take more effort than the last.

As I stood there, watching him sleep, a violent coughing fit suddenly wracked his body. His eyes flew open, wild and unfocused as he gasped for air. I quickly grabbed the glass of water from his nightstand, gently lifting his head to help him drink.

"Easy, old man," I murmured, supporting him as the coughs subsided. "I've got you."

Raul's eyes finally focused on me, a hint of his old sharpness returning. "Layla," he rasped, voice barely above a whisper. "You're back."

I nodded, carefully easing him back against the pillows. "Just for a bit. We've got a lead on Gage. I'm heading out to San Diego in a few hours."

A ghost of a smile crossed his lips. "Good girl. Make him pay."

Another coughing fit seized him, this one worse than before. I held him steady as his body shook, feeling helpless in the face of his suffering. When it finally passed, he slumped back, utterly spent.

“I will, Boss. I fucking will.”