Chapter 29
NADIA
Against her own explicit instructions not to leave the safety of the ranch, Cammy finally relented.
They both knew while Thomas was out there, Nadia wasn’t going to sit around and wait for word he’d been murdered like Phil.
Not while he was still alive and she had a sliver of a chance at saving him from himself.
“If you’re stupid enough to go after him, at least be smart enough to protect yourself,” Cammy had said, insisting Nadia take the compact handgun. “Have you ever fired one before?”
She nodded, inspecting the magazine’s capacity.
The weapon’s weight felt foreign and unwelcome in her hand, considering what had happened when she last handled a gun.
She shuddered at the memory of the intruder’s shocked stare, the flicker of disbelief that crossed his face right before he collapsed to the floor.
One kill was enough to put her in therapy for a decade. But two?
She gave the gun back. “Thank you, but I’ll be all right.”
“Then for god’s sake, call for help the second you locate him. Don’t try to be a hero,” Cammy advised.
“Promise.” Nadia had too much to live for than to run in with guns blazing, as they say.
She packed her few belongings, feeling the woman’s disapproving gaze follow her every move.
Cammy tried everything—reason, threats, emotional appeals—to coax her to stay.
But her mind was set. She couldn’t abandon Thomas.
“You’re being reckless,” Cammy said from the doorway. “Almost as reckless as he is.”
“Maybe that’s why we’re perfect for each other.
” Nadia zipped the bag closed Cammy had let her borrow, the last night she’d spent with Thomas coming to mind.
The evening ride at the base of the mountains.
The infectious grin he gave her breaking across his face, unguarded and free in the way no one else but her got to see.
She wanted to see his smile again, and not just from the back of a horse trotting beside his.
Now, over six hours into her drive and creeping through Bay Area rush hour traffic, Nadia’s determination hadn’t wavered.
Though a prickling disquiet crawled under her skin like worms shifting through soil.
Every minute felt like an eternity. Every red light, a diversion.
Every slow-moving car in front of her, a delay tactic.
Didn’t the universe know Thomas didn’t have the luxury of time?
She glanced at her phone. No messages and no calls. The screen remained stubbornly dark, mirroring the dreadfully dark feeling in her chest.
The dashboard clock displayed 5:42 p.m. Assuming traffic cooperated, she’d reach Aimee’s house just after six. Dinner time. The thought of food made her stomach revolt. She should be hungry. She hadn’t eaten since the hastily consumed granola bar at a gas station hours ago.
She shifted in her seat, Cammy’s final warning running through her mind. “The Hidalgos don’t discriminate. Man, woman, child—you get in their way, they’ll kill you.”
She checked her rearview mirror for what must have been the hundredth time.
More advice from Cammy: Be aware of your surroundings at all times.
Never let your guard down. Assume you’re being followed.
Was that the same green SUV that had been three cars back for the last fifteen minutes?
She changed lanes abruptly, watching to see if it followed.
It didn’t, and she loosened her breath. Just her paranoia kicking into overdrive.
Her thoughts drifted to Thomas as they had throughout the entire drive.
Was he still alive? Had he already made the exchange for Claire?
Were they torturing him like Phil? Her imagination taunted her, just as the empty side of his bed had haunted her that morning.
How intense he’d looked the night before as she’d moved over him, then him behind her, their bodies joined, limbs entwined.
Had he known then he was saying goodbye?
Had every touch, every kiss been a farewell?
“Damn you, Tom,” she whispered to the empty car. He didn’t get to decide for both of them.
And that was the core issue. Throughout their complicated friendship, he’d always been the decision-maker, the puppeteer pulling the strings of their lives from behind the curtain.
When her mom had needed money, he arranged it—at his own expense.
When James needed protection, he orchestrated it—at everyone’s expense.
Now, he’d decided to sacrifice himself—at her expense. To hell that she wanted him.
Traffic thinned and she exited the freeway. Familiar streets welcomed her back to her hometown, a place where she’d once been part of something solid. A treasured circle of friends who’d been as close as family.
She was now the outcast. The betrayer. And the thought of facing Aimee sent a bolt of unease into her. What could she say to her to get her to listen? How could she possibly get her to understand the secrecy had been necessary? That sometimes what you didn’t share could hurt less than what you did?
How could she make them understand that Thomas, for all his flaws, didn’t deserve to die?
She eased to a stop in front of the ranch house Aimee and Ian were in the process of renovating. The porch light was on and the driveway empty. Both told her they weren’t home, but she knocked anyway, returning to her car when nobody answered. Where could they be?
She drove past Catherine and Hugh Tierney’s house on the off chance they’d be there, but ended up driving past when she didn’t see either Aimee’s or Ian’s cars. She tried the Garners’ place next and practically melted into the seat with relief when she spotted Ian’s Explorer in the driveway.
Nick answered the door and his expression hardened when he saw her. He didn’t give her a welcoming smile or embrace. Just a wary, disapproving stare that told her everything she needed to know about where she stood with them now.
“You sure you should be here?” he asked. The question came out uncharacteristically cold.
She lifted her chin. “This is urgent, Nick. Can you tell Aimee I’m here?”
“Wait here.”
For the first time in her life, he didn’t invite her inside.
The partial closing of the door felt symbolic of what had happened to their friendship.
It wasn’t completely closed off, but it was barely open.
Through the gap, she could hear them in the backyard.
The clink of silverware on plates. Voices that abruptly died.
Nick was announcing her arrival. She could easily picture Aimee reaching for Ian’s hand as she told Nick to send Nadia away.
Swallowing her pride and pushing away the hurt, Nadia did what she had to do. She pushed open the door and stepped inside, following the familiar path through the house to the backyard.
“I don’t want to see her,” Aimee said just as Nadia stepped into view.
“Too bad because I’m already here.”
Kristen’s head lashed back, eyes narrowing. “You’re a real piece of work showing your face here.”
“Nick pretty much said the same,” Nadia replied evenly, trying not to let their insults dig their hooks into her. “I get it.”
Ian started to rise from his chair. “Whatever you came to say, I don’t think now is a good time. Emotions are running hot.”
She respected Ian playing the peacekeeper. It was why he had been so much better for Aimee than James ever was. He stood up for her. Supported her as she deserved.
“Hate me all you want,” Nadia said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her hands.
“As much as I wish this was about me, it’s not.
It’s about saving Thomas and hopefully his mother.
Let’s be honest. The Hidalgos won’t be satisfied with just him.
They’ll never release Claire, not alive.
And James very well could be next because they won’t stop with Tom.
Have you been watching the news? They’re kidnapping, torturing, and murdering everyone involved in bringing that cartel down. ”
Kristen’s eyes widened, a ripple of unease crossing her face. “What do you expect to do if you find him? You’re just one person and you’ll probably get killed in the process.”
“Probably,” Nadia admitted. “But at least I’d die knowing I tried.”
Aimee shook her head, Ian’s arm tightening around her shoulders. “You all do realize she’s talking about Thomas. He lied to us, and hurt us all. They both did.” She pointed at Nadia, her voice vibrating with fury, the old pain and trauma manifesting in her trembling lips.
“He did it to save his brother and to keep you—all of us—from also getting killed,” Nadia countered.
“He went too far,” Aimee argued.
“Because he loves us. We’re his family.”
Kristen scoffed. “Were. He has a horrible way of showing he loves us.”
Nadia’s gaze drifted over them, their expressions of abject horror over the thought of helping him.
Only Nick didn’t meet her stare. Mouth pursed, he gazed over the pool that had a pink unicorn floating in the center.
Nadia was reminded of the photo Aimee’s daughter, Caty, insisted her mom display in her office.
The six of them—her, Aimee, Kristen, Nick, James, and Thomas as kids swimming in Nick’s parents’ pool.
All Thomas had ever wanted was connection.
It wasn’t every day you had the privilege of knowing someone who fought so hard to keep family together.
Whether that was his family, or hers. Or theirs, she thought, looking over her lifelong friends.
“They tortured Phil before they murdered him,” Nadia said quietly. “They tied him to a tree, cut off his hands and feet, and carved an H in his stomach. Then just before he bled out entirely, they shot him in the head. They wanted him to suffer.”
Kristen covered her mouth on an alarmed gasp. Aimee’s face drained of color. Ian swore under his breath. But Nick. He held her gaze, a muscle throbbing in his cheek.
“We’re afraid Claire’s next, if she isn’t dead already. Then it will be Thomas… and James. His boys…”