Chapter 3
OLLIE
My men have been on the prowl now for two days, searching high and low for Renata Carerra. There are two things I know for sure: she’s not far, and she’s betrayed my family.
I’ve looked in every nook and cranny in Colombia to no avail, but Isabella says she hasn’t left Colombia yet, so I keep hunting.
I pace in the living room of my brother Lev and his wife Isabella’s Colombian home. They reside in both New York and Colombia, as they shoulder leadership roles as the bridge between the Morales family cartel and the Romanov family’s Bratva.
“I can’t find her,” I tell Isabella, running a hand through my hair. “Maybe she’s fled the country.”
Every step closer fuels my anger, but beneath it, a darker need coils tight. No matter what she’s done, no matter what she still might do—she’s mine.
Isabella, a bit older than Renata and a bit wiser, only smiles and shakes her head. “I have contacts, Ollie, don’t forget, and I have it on good authority she’s here.” She takes a long sip from a glass of water. “Trust me.”
Fine, fine. I’ll trust her.
Jesus.
“I would know,” is all she says. “Keep looking.”
I’m about to leave when I finally get the call I’ve been waiting for. “Sir? We found her. I dropped a pin with her location to your phone.”
My heart thunders, warring emotions choking me. Relief. She’s alright. Rage. The fucking traitor.
Where has she been? What has she been up to? What has she done?
“Put it on speaker,” Isabella says behind me. I give her a sharp look as Lev turns the corner. I’m not in the habit of taking orders from someone I hardly know, especially a woman, but Isabella is the one in charge of the Los Sangre Dorada, and she’s borderline insane to boot.
My brother levels his gaze at me, so I tap the speaker button.
“They have her.” I swallow. “Is she alright?”
Why do I care? She betrayed my family. I don’t look at Isabella and Lev when I ask.
“Not that badly. A little beaten up, but conscious.” A shadow crosses Isabella’s face. In the not-so-distant past, the two of them were best friends.
I frown. This isn’t adding up. If her brother was alive and had her in his custody, she’d be dead by now.
“I’ll be right there.”
I disconnect the call and turn to Lev and Isabella. “You were told about Santiago?”
Isabella gives one sharp nod. “Good riddance.” Loyalty to the LSD is of paramount importance to Isabella, for good reason.
“Were you debriefed regarding the conversation I had with him before I put a bullet in his skull?” I take my gun out and check that it’s loaded. Isabella casts a quick glance down.
“We’re not in the Wild West here in Colombia, Ollie. You must be careful. There are very strict gun laws in Colombia. We don’t have the connections and immunity you do in the States.”
Fuck.
I grumble and tuck it away.
“No,” Isabella says. “I have not been debriefed.”
I blow out a breath. “They said Carlos isn’t dead.”
Lev and Isabella share a look before she glances my way again. “Is that so?”
I look at her in surprise. Did she hear me correctly? Carlos Carerra, Colombia’s most wanted next to the late Javier Morales, Isabella’s brother, was once thought dead.
“You aren’t surprised.”
She sighs and shakes her head. “Not at all. I half expected as much. First, it was too good to be true that we ended both my brother’s reign of terror and Carlos’s in one fell swoop. Second, Carlos is too fucking mean to die.”
We’ll fucking see about that.
“Bring her back, Lev.” Isabella’s gaze grows cold as ice. “I need to have a…talk…with my former friend. Woman to woman.”
Lev eyes her thoughtfully. I nod to them both and head to the car.
I park a block away from where the pin marked their location, conceal my weapon, and march down the street. My anger toward Renata grows with every step I take.
I have to take her back. If what we’ve been told is true, Carlos will be on the prowl for her. Hell, he might be the reason she’s here.
The two men Isabella assigned to me stand in a darkened doorway at the end of the street. There. They’ve got her. She’s here.
I’m going to whip her pretty ass and tie her to my bed to interrogate her. I’m going to use every fucking tool I have to teach her a lesson she won’t forget. I’ll make her beg for mercy and crave the punishment I’ll deliver, so she knows exactly who she belongs to.
I’m taking her home.
Home.
I don’t like being here anymore. Everything feels borrowed and tired.
I liked traveling for a while, but it’s come to the point where I miss my home.
I want my own bed again. I want to see the rest of my brothers and my sister.
I want to see my mother. Wanderlust can sometimes make me itchy to move, but I want to be home again.
And I want my own damn bodyguards with me.
They see me coming and give me a wide berth, revealing the small, prone body of Renata on the ground several yards in front of me.
My world comes to a screeching halt, and my mind goes blank. All of my anger. My need for vengeance and blood. My frustration with Renata’s escape and my need to make her pay. All of it evaporates.
I take one look at her small, crumpled body on the ground in front of me, and one thought erases all others: mine.
I snap at the men in Spanish. “How could you fucking leave her on the ground like that?” Jesus. It’s cold and dirty. “The next fucking asshole who treats her like trash will dig his own fucking grave. She’s mine to punish.”
One of the men blinks at me in surprise. It takes him a minute to unfreeze. I’m running, my feet pounding on the pavement, when he reaches for her. But when I see him almost touch her, every nerve in my body shrieks.
“No! Leave her. I’ll get her.”
He looks at me, unsurprisingly shocked at my contradiction. Do I want him to touch her or not? I don’t want her on the ground, and I don’t want any other man to come anywhere near her. So the next step is obvious.
I fall to my knees in front of her and lift her up.
She stirs in my arms and blinks up at me.
Even broken, even dirtied and bruised, wearing a tattered top and torn jeans, she’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
Long, glossy dark hair hangs about her shoulders, her piercing brown eyes haunted and sad.
The hollows of her cheek make her look thinner than the last time I saw her.
She needs food, water, and a doctor.
Punishment can wait. Right now, I need to bring her back to life.
I lift her to me and tip my hand under her chin. I tilt her head to the side. Her complexion’s darker than Isabella’s, but even in the dim light, I can see a bruise along her cheekbone and jawline.
“Who did this to you?” I’ll fucking kill them. I run my thumb as lightly as I can along her face, checking for marks, but when she winces, I realize even my light touch is too much for her.
Of course she doesn’t reply.
“Your brother? Was it your brother?”
Her eyes flutter closed. “Carlos is dead,” she croaks out.
I can’t tell yet if she actually believes that.
I push to my feet with her against my chest. “You shouldn’t have left,” I growl and give her a little shake. “You were safe in The Cove.”
Safe with me.
“You think I left?” Her voice is silky and soft, and it makes me want to kiss her.
“Don’t lie to me, Renata.”
My footsteps thump on the rain-slicked streets as I carry her to the car, purring a few paces away. I pause before I slide her in.
Someone’s watching. I can feel their eyes on me.
But when I turn to look, we’re alone. The two guards follow at a close distance, weapons drawn.
Colombia’s conceal and carry rules are strict as fuck, but these two don’t care.
They hold their Brügger & Thomet MP9 sub-machine guns right out in the open.
Maybe I don’t miss my men as much as I thought I did.
Thunder cracks overhead, followed immediately by a bright flash of lightning nearby. I bend and put her in the car just as the rain picks up again.
I fold myself into the seat beside her as the taller of the two guards takes the driver’s seat. “Get us back to headquarters,” I snap. “Isabella’s waiting.”
We drive at a breakneck speed. I watch her out of the corner of my eye. If she says Carlos is dead, there are only two possibilities: she believes it’s so, or she’s lying.
If she’s lying, we can narrow it down further: she’s either on his side or she’s afraid.
I’ll find out the truth. But first… Isabella.
She sits beside me, her back as straight as an arrow, her gaze fixed ahead of us.
I want all the answers. Now.
“Look at me.”
When she turns to me, her gaze is sadder than it was the last time I saw her.
“You said you didn’t escape. Who took you, then?”
With a shake of her head, she turns away. “You’re a fool if you think I can tell you anything, Ollie.”
Why does her voice have to sound as soft as velvet? Why does my name on her lips sound like prayer and heartache?
I swallow hard and grit my teeth. “I saw the footage. I saw how you got away from our guards. No one took you.”
She looks away.
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
For the first time, a hint of a smile ghosts her lips, but it flees as quickly as it comes. “I don’t know. Why don’t you check for yourself?”
My dick stirs at the innuendo.
I can’t trust this woman. She’s as sneaky as they come.
But I can play right along with her. I lean forward and tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Oh, I will. And you won’t fucking like it.”
She rolls her eyes.
“I want answers, Renata. Who hurt you? You know I’m bringing you to Isabella. She’ll demand answers too.”
When she doesn’t respond, I grip her arm and bring her eyes to look at me. “I asked you a question. Answer me.”
I ignore the wince of pain on her face and remind myself who she is. Why we’re here. Her sneaking around and conspiring with our enemies put the lives of my entire family at risk. I can’t allow that.
“I have enemies, just like you,” she says through gritted teeth, squirming to get her arm out of my grip. “You should know that.”
“And you ran to them at the first chance, didn’t you?”
“They took me. I had no choice.”