Chapter 33
THOMAS
Thomas stopped the truck where he believed he was supposed to be.
Cell service had been spotty for miles, so he was making a calculated guess.
Before him stretched an abandoned airstrip that was little more than a faded scar on the ground, its edges softened by time and weather.
If he was off by any amount of distance that required him to drive elsewhere, he’d just signed his mother’s death certificate.
A quick glance at his watch showed he was out of time.
He cut the engine and the old metal hinges creaked as he swung open the heavy door. Oppressive heat slammed into him despite the late hour, filling the cab like water flooding a sinking ship. There was no escaping the hot, dry air that tasted as dusty as it was suffocating to breathe.
Sliding his sunglasses onto his head, he stepped onto the baked earth and studied the terrain, his shoes scraping against gravel on the cracked, packed surface.
Nothing was visible for miles other than clumps of giant desert grass and mesquite trees.
The mountain range he’d driven through was in the near distance.
But here, he stood in the open in the middle of nowhere.
No place to hide which left zero chance of escape.
Not that he intended to try. He’d made peace with his decision and would see this through.
He circled the truck, hot wind tearing through his clothes, heating his skin.
The Hidalgos had to be arriving by air given the airstrip and that it was less than sixty miles to the border.
So what appeared to be a car in the distance, a cloud of dust trailing, didn’t add up.
He saw a flash, what was probably sunlight reflected on metal, as the car drew closer.
Thomas tensed. Whoever was coming, was coming fast.
This was it. The exchange would happen here.
Thomas prepared to turn himself over to the cartel in exchange for Claire.
He’d give her the truck’s keys, negotiate for them to let her put some distance between them before they killed him.
She didn’t need to witness his execution, but he did need to see that she was safe. That was his plan.
He could see the car’s headlights and Thomas braced himself for the end. Minutes ticked down, then seconds. He could now make out that the car was a black Prius with blacked-out windows. In a moment of insanity, he wondered who’d ordered the Uber.
The car parked beside the truck and a gust of wind pelted his bare forearms and face with sand.
He watched the door, waited for it to open, for a window to go down.
But seconds ticked by and nothing. The car just sat there as a subtle tremor moved through his hands, his senses heightening with the ticking sound of the car’s cooling system.
A high-pitched whistling as the wind whipped against the truck.
Metal creaked and groaned. He could smell his own sweat.
Claire better be in that car. Was Ruiz the driver? What was he waiting for?
A faint electronic whine pierced the eerie silence as the car’s systems powered down. A quiet thunk as the car shifted slightly, the mechanical click of the parking system engaging. Then the door swung open.
The driver, a well-built man with golden brown hair and short beard, unfolded from the driver’s seat.
He wore jeans, a loose printed linen shirt with some bulkiness underneath and aviator sunglasses.
Disbelief bordering on hallucination gripped Thomas.
Then full-on panic slammed into him with a force that had him reeling back.
“No.”
“Hey, Tom,” James casually addressed him as if they were just meeting on the beach to surf a few waves.
“What are you doing here?”
“I could ask you the same. Got a text to meet here.”
Thomas figured that. What he didn’t understand was why the Hidalgos would have them both here.
The only conclusion he drew, one that had occurred to him before but he hadn’t wanted to consider, was that they never intended to let Claire go.
They’d lured them both here to execute them alongside their mother.
A three for one before Ruiz escaped the country.
How was he supposed to protect James when he was here?
How did he ever expect to negotiate both his mother’s and brother’s safety?
Was his life worth the two of theirs? He doubted the Hidalgos thought so.
In all his years at the helm of Donato Enterprises, he’d never entered into a negotiation without knowing the options on the table.
It was how nine out of ten times he came out of a meeting the winner. Tonight, the options were unclear.
Even as his mind grappled with the inevitable ending to their story, he couldn’t let go of a last sliver of hope.
As long as there was something to negotiate his life against, there was a chance he could save both Claire and James.
He suspected why the cartel wanted him in particular.
Why the revenge they were exacting on his family outweighed the other lives that had been lost. But he needed to hear it from them.
Thomas marched to his brother. “Go. Leave!” He hadn’t seen James since his brother walked out of Thomas’s hotel suite in Kauai four years ago, writing Thomas out of his life.
“Nice to see you too.” His mouth widened into an easy smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
“This is serious, James.” Thomas enunciated each word. He didn’t sacrifice a future with Nadia, his position at Donato Enterprises, his financial net worth, and everything he’d denied for himself to save James all those years ago for him to die here today.
“No kidding.” James gestured behind him with loose fingers. “Check it out. You got me hooked on Priuses.”
Thomas pressed his palms to the sides of his head. “What is wrong with you?” This wasn’t the time to joke. “They’re going to kill you.”
“You too.” Thomas glared and James dropped the joking brother facade. “What? You think I’m going to let you get all the glory?”
He wanted to punch James. Instead he pulled at his shirt. A button popped, pinged to the ground and Thomas saw red. “You’re wearing a vest.”
James shoved him back, hard. Thomas stumbled, catching himself before he fell onto his ass.
“Who’d you tell? Who’s out there?” Thomas peered at the horizon as if he could count the number of feds waiting for something to go down. The sky had dimmed, making it hard to see. He wished he had binoculars.
“The cavalry.”
Thomas shook a fist, ready to land one on his brother’s smart mouth. “We can’t trust them. The feds have been compromised.”
James flashed his palms. “There’s a plan—”
“The only plan,” he cut in, “is what needs to be done to guarantee Mom’s and your safety. Your kids are growing up with a father. Why do you always do this?”
“Do what exactly?” James stared him down.
“Ruin plans that are already in motion. You can’t go off in a different direction and expect me to follow along.”
“Look who’s talking. We’re sick of you playing the martyr.”
Everything inside Thomas froze before resetting. Nadia had said something similar. But as much as he wanted to know exactly who was the “we,” he refused to get sidetracked.
They stared each other down.
James spoke first. “I leave, Mom dies.”
“Then take that off,” he ordered of the vest. “I noticed it right away and so will they. If they at all suspect the feds are involved, we’re all dead.
” It was the exact reason Thomas went against arming himself with the gun Nadia had used to shoot their intruder.
He’d been carrying it around since they’d escaped the safe house.
James had the good sense to do as he demanded.
His brother unbuttoned the rest of his shirt and removed the vest. Thomas took the Kevlar from him and tossed it into the truck bed.
James put his shirt back on while Thomas ran through their options, his mind quickly forming a new plan.
He’d let the Hidalgos tie him to the back of the truck and drag him the length of the playa for all he cared.
They could fly him to Mexico and torture him there, so long as James drove away with their mother.
Thomas turned back to James to tell him exactly how this would play out, to leave the talking to him, when a flash in the sky caught his eye.
A distance away, a twin-engine turboprop aircraft steadily descended toward them, orange-gold light from the sun hovering just above the horizon glinting off its white metallic exterior.
James looked up too just as the high-pitched whine of the engine and rhythmic whomp-whomp of the propeller blades reached them. The wind gusted, sending the plane sideways before a quick correction on its rapid descent to the runway.
Thomas’s muscles tightened as his heart thumped like a fist pounding on a door.
The engine throttled for landing, the propeller noise suddenly increasing, and the plane touched down.
He felt the vibration through the ground as gravel crunched under the landing gear.
Gradually, the engines spooled down and the plane came to a stop some fifty yards from them.
“What now?” Tension rippled through James’s frame.
“We’ll know when we see him.”
A door swung outward and upward, steps automatically unfolding.
“Let me do the talking,” Thomas insisted.
James shot him a look. “Like hell.”
Some seconds later, a man came into view.
He descended the stairs, followed by a second man.
Both wore jeans and dark T-shirts, the material rippling in the wind like seismic waves across their chests and rounded guts.
They were soft in the middle, all their muscle compacted into thick arms. These men were also younger than the man who lived in Thomas’s nightmares.
Thomas glanced at James. “Where’s Mom?”
James shook his head.
Thomas waited for her to appear. He couldn’t tell who else was on the plane aside from the pilot still sitting in the cockpit.
This didn’t bode well.
The men approached, their features becoming more distinct, and a sickening level of stress inundated Thomas’s system. Nausea rose on a sharp wave.
“That isn’t Fernando Ruiz,” James said.
It wasn’t. These two men were much worse.