Unveiled (Vargas Cartel #2) (6 page)

Chapter Eleven

Ryker

“This looks amazing,” Rever said, leaning over my shoulder.

“It’s not for you,” I said, elbowing him in his stomach.

Rever stumbled back. “What the hell?”

I turned off the stove and snagged my keys from the counter, stuffing them into my pocket. “You need to leave.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter, his ankles crossed. “I don’t have anywhere to go.”

“Go out to dinner. Check into a hotel. I don’t care. You can’t stay here tonight.”

“With what money?” he challenged.

I opened my wallet and pulled out five crisp hundred dollar bills. “Take this.” I dropped the stack of bills on the counter.

Rever eyed the money, but didn’t make any attempt to grab it. “No.”

“We’ve already been over this. Hattie’s coming over for dinner, and you can’t be here.”

“I’ll stay in the guest room. She won’t even know I’m here.”

I groaned. “I’ll know you’re here.”

“Look, Ryker, both of us know I shouldn’t step foot out of your apartment. Senator Deveron knows I’m in D.C. He could have me picked up again, and then we’d be fucked. Anna would be fucked.”

He was right. As much as I wanted him to leave, it wasn’t a good decision for either of us. It’d been a week since we went out to dinner and ran into Evan. She hadn’t mentioned him again, and I hadn’t asked her any questions. I didn’t want to push her. She’d let me back into her life, which was good enough for me. For now.

“Fine.” I opened my front door. “I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t come out of the room tonight.”

“Are you ever going to introduce us?”

“Not if I don’t have to.”

“So you’re embarrassed by me.” It wasn’t a question.

“Pretty much,” I answered, slamming the door behind me. Hattie and I managed to build some trust over the last week, but I didn’t want to throw Rever in her face. Likewise, she didn’t want to introduce me to her friends. Maybe someday we’d figure out how to incorporate our friends and family into our relationship, but right now I wanted to concentrate on us.

I jogged across the street. As usual, Hattie and I had planned to meet at the bar two blocks from my apartment. We’d been careful to avoid meeting in places where we could run into her friends or family.

I opened the door of the neighborhood bar. The smell of stale beer assaulted my nose. Dark wood covered the walls. I wove through the crowds of people taking advantage of the happy hour menu. My leather soles clicked over the gray and white checkerboard tile floor.

Hattie sat at a booth in the corner, twirling her fingers around the stem of a nearly empty glass of white wine. Her other hand tapped impatiently on the sleek and industrial-looking gunmetal tabletop. My late arrival didn’t go unnoticed by her.

Like every other time we had met in the past week, I nodded to her, and then I walked directly through the bar to the back entrance. Normally, we walked the two blocks to my car and drove somewhere outside D.C., but tonight she was coming to my apartment for dinner.

“You’re late.” She circled her arms around my neck.

“Dinner complications.” My gaze drifted to her lips. I shouldn’t kiss her here, but I couldn’t resist. My lips settled over hers, brushing back and forth until her lips parted. My tongue slid against hers, the honeyed melon flavor of her wine coated her mouth.

I stepped back. “I’m starving. Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes. I didn’t eat much today. Let’s go.”

I slid an arm around her waist, keeping her close as I pushed open the exit door. I had taken a few steps when I noticed a man standing at the end of the alley. He wore a long black trench coat, even though it was an unseasonably warm night in May. I shoved Hattie behind me, cursing inwardly that I didn’t bring my gun.

“What’s wrong?” Hattie whispered, one hand clutching the back of my shirt and the other on top of my left shoulder.

“Go back inside.”

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“Now!” I yelled, brushing her hand off my shoulder.

“Don’t move. Either of you,” the man said, flashing the gun strapped to his waist.

I pushed Hattie aside, and she stumbled, crying out as she fell on all fours. I ran forward, my feet pounding against the asphalt. When I closed the distance between us, I launched myself at the man, shoving him against the brick wall. The air whooshed out of his lungs, and his body sagged like a rag doll.

I wrapped my hands around his neck and smashed his head against the wall, each sickening thud acted like gasoline fueling my anger.

He sneered as his fist connected with the side of my face. My chin whipped to the side. Blood exploded from my lip and the taste of iron seeped into my mouth. The man lifted his gun, but I grabbed his wrist, slamming it against the wall until it fell out of his hand, clanging against the cracked asphalt.

He kicked my knee, and I grunted as pain radiated up my leg. Adrenaline flowed through my body, igniting a murderous fury. I dove forward, caging my arms around his waist, tackling him. Straddling him with my legs, I put him in a chokehold. The man bucked underneath me, clawing at my hands. Blood oozed over my fingertips like black lava from the back of the man’s head. Gasping, his lips turned a faint shade of blue. Violence hemorrhaged from my pores. I wanted to kill him. I was going to kill him.

Distantly, Hattie’s shrill screams vibrated down the manmade corridor of brick, stone, and cement, but I was too preoccupied with delivering violence to focus on her. Sweat dripped down my temples, mingling with the blood seeping from my lip. My Vargas bloodline craved death— the split second in time when the soul abandoned its physical form, and the eyes dimmed for eternity. The darkness inside me eclipsed the light.

My fist collided with his face.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

I couldn’t stop. I loosened the reins on the darkness living deep inside of my soul. I was blind and deaf to everything except the bloodlust crackling in my synapses.

A car screeched to halt at the end of the alley. A second man ran out of the car flashing his gun. The silver glittered, reflecting off the street lamp.

“Let him go,” the man yelled, pointing his gun between my eyes.

I rolled back, lifting my hands into the air. “What do you want?”

The second man ignored me. “John, get the fuck up,” he spat at the man moaning on the ground where I left him.

“We’re here to deliver a message,” the man with the gun said through clenched teeth, his body half turned away from me.

I glanced over my shoulder, searching for Hattie. She was crouched into a ball near the dumpster, tears streaming down her face.

I shot to my feet, angling my body to protect Hattie. I kicked the gun I wrestled from the first attacker behind me, but within my reach. “Then, deliver your fucking message and leave.”

“Senator Deveron said the game is up. He knows who you are. You have twenty-four hours to do as he requested, or he’ll expose you.”

I glanced back at Hattie. Her mouth was parted as she stared wide-eyed at me, her entire body trembling. My chest heaving with exertion, I rolled my shoulders back. “Great. I have a message for him too.”

The man with the gun shrugged, trying to look casual even as his eyes flickered between Hattie and me.

I scooped up the discarded gun and aimed. “Tell Senator Deveron to go to hell. Now get the fuck out of here before I kill you both.”

I watched them get in the car and drive away. I wiped the blood from my mouth with the back of my hand and turned to face Hattie.

“Hattie,” I said, kneeling in front of her. “Are you okay?”

“Ryker.” She grabbed my hand, squeezing it, her eyes filling with fresh tears. “Please tell me what’s going on. Why would Senator Deveron come after you? What does he want?”

My stomached clenched as I cradled her hand between both of mine. “I don’t know.”

She yanked her hand from mine. “Dammit, Ryker. I need to know. I’m running blind. How can I protect myself when I don’t know what’s going on?”

She was right. “You don’t have to. That’s my job.”

“You can’t shadow me for the rest of my life. Tell me the truth.”

“No,” I snapped.

She stood, brushing invisible debris from her sunflower-colored dress with one hand and clutching her purse with the other. “Then, I’m done.”

“What do you mean?”

She scraped her hair away from her face, her fingers noticeably shaking. “Our relationship has run its course. We can’t be together in public. You can’t or won’t tell me the truth. People are waving guns at me, trying to physically assault us. It’s over.” She started walking down the alley, her heels clicking like a time bomb with every step.

My chest caved. Everything in me screamed to let her go. That this wouldn’t work. That we could never be anything. Rever was right. My relationship with Hattie would blow up in my face.

“Wait,” I yelled when she reached the mouth of the alley. She glanced over her shoulder, her amber eyes glowing with hope. “Okay,” I conceded.

“Okay, what?”

“I’ll tell you the truth.”

“Everything?”

I scrubbed my hands over my face. This was fucking nuts. Something was wrong with me, but knowing it didn’t stop me. “Yes, everything I know.”

Chapter Twelve

Hattie

Ryker opened the door to his apartment. I paused at the threshold. Once I knew the truth, my whole life would change. As much as I wanted to unravel all the lies, I was afraid.

His eyebrows lifted slightly…expectantly. “Are you coming in?”

I took a tentative step back. What was I doing? Did I really want to know the truth? Did I really want to alienate my friends and family for a man I didn’t know? Could I trust him? My gaze darted down the hall in the direction of the elevator, and for a brief second, I considered running away from him. From everything. From everyone. I could move across the country and start over, become somebody different. Somebody better. Stronger.

“Hattie. What are you doing?”

An involuntary whimper escaped my mouth. I could’ve been killed tonight. Even though I’d left Mexico, nothing had changed. “I’m scared.”

“I’m not going to let anyone hurt you,” he said, his voice soft, almost gentle.

His words should’ve reassured me, but they didn’t. Instead, they made me realize I was in danger. He believed I was in danger.

I closed my eyes and shook my head. “You can’t control everything.”

The roughened pads of his fingers skated down my face, caressing my cheek. A tremor of desire and fear raced down my spine.

“You’re right, but are you willing to give up so easily?”

I opened my eyes and lifted my chin. I wasn’t a quitter. “No.”

One side of his mouth curled up into a lopsided grin. “I didn’t think so.”

He threaded his fingers through mine, pulling me through his nearly empty apartment. I scanned the empty walls, the bare floors, and the smattering of furniture. “This is—”

He shrugged. “Not much of a home. I’ve never gotten around to doing anything.”

I trailed my finger through the veil of dust on a small rectangular table, leaving a clean line on the espresso-colored wood. “How long have you lived here?”

“Five years.”

My eyebrows jumped up my forehead. “Wow.”

“I know.” He chuckled. “Come with me. We can talk in my office.”

We reached the end of the hall, and he pulled his keys out of his pocket, unlocking a dark-walnut paneled door.

“Why the secrecy?” I asked, stepping into the room.

“I don’t like anyone going through my papers. Sit.” He motioned to a chair in front of his desk.

“So formal,” I said. As I settled into the chair, a giggle escaped out of my mouth, more from nerves than the situation. The rich smell of worn leather enveloped me.

He pulled a file folder out of a desk drawer and settled into lounge chair behind the desk. “Did you tell Evan anything about us?”

“No. I haven’t talked to him since that night at the restaurant.” His eyes narrowed. “I know I promised to call him, but I haven’t done it. I didn’t know what to say to him.”

He opened the file folder, but I couldn’t see anything. “What about Vera?”

“Nothing. I swear. Except—”

“Except what?”

Blood flooded my cheeks. “I told her I was seeing someone, but I refused to tell her any details about you or us.”

“You didn’t tell anyone else? A therapist? Maybe you wrote something in a diary or a journal.”

“No.” Then, I remembered the pregnancy test I never removed from cabinet underneath the sink. My stomach dropped. “Well, I took a pregnancy test. I hid it under the bathroom sink at Evan’s apartment. I didn’t want to put it in the trash, but then I forgot about it.”

Ryker leaned back in his chair. “He’d think it was his.”

“No, he wouldn’t. We haven’t…” My voice trailed off. I didn’t want to have this conversation with him. “Just no.”

“What I tell you right now cannot go anywhere. You can’t tell your family. You can’t tell Vera, and you certainly can’t confront Evan or his family.”

I nodded, and he slid a piece of paper across the desk. “What’s this?”

“A wire transfer from Senator Deveron to me.”

I scanned the paper. “Five hundred thousand dollars? What’s this for?”

“Check the date?”

“March 1.”

“What happened around then?”

I shifted closer, leaning my elbows on his desk as I shook my head, laboring to remember every detail. “Nothing.” I cocked my head to the side. “I broke up with Evan right around that time, and you know what happened after that. I went to Mexico with Vera for Spring Break, then you…” My heart sputtered as pieces of the puzzle shifted in my mind.

Ryker stood up and walked around the corner of the desk, pausing in front of me with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. “Then I found you in that bar in Mexico.”

The air exploded out of my lungs like I’d been kicked in the gut, and the room tilted. I clutched the edge of the desk, suffocating on the noxious fumes of betrayal. “Did…” I blinked, stalling for time.

Please don’t be true.

With deadened hands, I rubbed my temples. “Did Senator Deveron pay you to abduct me?”

“Yes.”

One simple word. By itself, it was innocuous, innocent even, but it felt like he had pulled the safety pin on a grenade and fractured my life into a million pieces. I jumped out of the chair like a jack in the box.

“No,” I yelled. “It’s not true. He wouldn’t do that. It doesn’t make sense. Evan would never let him.” Ryker shook his head, his face lined with pity. I felt sick. My hands shook. My heart pounded against my chest like a battering ram. Then, my knees buckled like a folding chair.

Ryker caught me, his fingers digging into my upper arms. “Breathe, Hattie. Breathe.”

I didn’t want to breathe. I didn’t want to open my eyes. I wanted it all to go away. I wanted to disappear. Fade away. “Why? Tell me why, Ryker.” I swallowed against the surge of nausea, contorting my stomach into a pretzel. God, I fucking hurt everywhere.

His hand moved up and down my back, and he kissed the top of my head. “They need you. They need your dad, but I think you already know this part. I told you all of this in Mexico, but I omitted the names of the parties involved.”

Squeezing my eyes shut, I skimmed through the murky conversations with Ryker and Ignacio. Then, it hit me. According to Ignacio, Rever had offered information about politicians and businessmen affiliated with the Vargas Cartel in exchange for prosecutorial immunity. He needed leverage to stop it from happening. So did Senator Deveron. I tilted up my head, searching Ryker’s face.

“Senator Deveron has connections to the Vargas Cartel.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement, but the minute I said it, I realized it was the absolute truth. Deep down maybe I knew all along. Ignacio and Ryker had given me enough hints, but I refused to see the truth. The truth butchered me.

Ryker nodded. “It started fifteen years ago. Senator Deveron’s Las Vegas casino was on the verge of bankruptcy. Ignacio propositioned him. Ignacio needed a way to launder drug money, and Senator Deveron needed a quick cash infusion. It made sense for both of them. When President Felipe Calderón took power in 2006, he declared war on the drug cartels. The Vargas Cartel experienced significant losses. Senator Deveron needed the Vargas Cartel’s money to keep his casino afloat, but he also wanted more power and influence, so he ran for Senate. The Vargas Cartel funneled money to his campaign through dummy corporations, campaign bundlers, and non-profits with the understanding that he’d use his power to help the cartel.”

“So you’re saying Senator Deveron is a puppet of the Vargas Cartel.”

“No, more like they have a symbiotic relationship. Senator Deveron uses his position to block the U.S. from interfering with the Vargas Cartel’s trafficking activities, and he blocks active prosecution of the cartel’s top officials.”

“Oh my God,” I whispered.

“The Vargas Cartel supplies ninety percent of the drugs that enter Nevada, and it has a significant presence in the western United States.”

Dazed, I stepped out of his embrace and walked to the window, my back facing him. “I didn’t realize that.” I stared at the lights flickering in the inky sky. “I don’t know why they need my dad or me. It sounds like Senator Deveron can take care of himself. He has all the power and connections he needs.”

“Rever leaked some information implicating Senator Deveron, but reports of his connection to the Vargas Cartel have been bubbling up for the last two years. He needs a way to stop the inevitable.”

His hands dropped on my shoulders, and part of me wanted to push him away. Push everyone away. I was utterly exhausted. My mind spun in circles as I struggled to unravel fiction and truth.

“What are you saying?”

“If you marry Evan, your dad would have a strong incentive to kill any investigation that landed on his desk.”

A shiver trickled down my spine, and I felt cold…so fucking cold. Frost crawled through my body, numbing every cell in its path. I didn’t think I’d ever be warm again. “Ah, I see.” Avoiding Ryker’s heated stare, I crossed the room and snagged my purse off the chair.

“What do you see?”

“Evan strung me along all this time for what I could offer his family. You abducted me for money, and then you wanted me to get back together with Evan last week for what reason? More money? To help the Vargas Cartel smuggle more drugs?”

“Hattie.” He grabbed my hand, but I slapped it away. The sound of flesh hitting flesh echoed through the room.

“Don’t touch me,” I spat through clenched teeth. “All week, I had this internal debate running in my head whether we could actually make this work between us. I twisted reality. I distorted the facts, and somehow I convinced myself if we wanted it enough, we’d figure it out. We could be together.”

“We can.”

I scoffed. “No, you’re wrong. You were ready to let me go last week. Why should I believe you won’t change your mind when a better offer comes along?” I sucked in a deep breath, willing the tears to disappear from the corner of my eyes. Willing my heart to freeze over and become an impenetrable wall of icy disdain. Willing myself to evolve from the pathetically gullible pawn I’d become into someone stronger. Smarter. Braver.

“Because I choose you. I choose you over the safety of my family and over everything I’ve worked for. I refused to help him. Why do you think he came after me today?” I shrugged. “I told him to leave you alone.”

I blew my bangs out of my eyes. “Right. For now. For today.”

“I’m not letting you go again. I’m done fighting what’s happening between us. We’re in this together. To the end. This bullshit with Senator Deveron and the Vargas Cartel will fade away, but what I feel for you won’t. I realize that now.”

“I have to go. This is too much,” I said, taking a half step to the door, my head shaking back and forth, but I didn’t want to leave. I never wanted to leave him. A few pretty words and my anger disintegrated like a sandcastle in a windstorm. How did he do that? From the moment I saw him in that bar I was a goner. My body chose him over and over, even when my mind begged me to hate him.

His head whipped toward mine, his eyes blistering with passion. “Senator Deveron threatened to withdraw the protection of the U.S. government from the Vargas Cartel and align with the Alvarez Cartel.”

I rolled my eyes and leaned against the desk. “That doesn’t make sense. The U.S. government doesn’t protect or align with drug cartels.”

One of his dark eyebrows lifted ever so slightly. “Don’t be naïve. Of course they do. The U.S. government, through the ICE, ATF, and DEA, have a record of providing benefits and immunity to cartels—particularly the Vargas Cartel—in exchange for receiving information against other cartels. What do you think the ‘Fast and Furious’ gun-running program to Mexican cartels paid for by the U.S. taxpayers was about?”

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I don’t get it. Why would the U.S. government do that?”

His mouth twisted, and his hand sliced through the air. “Because everything is never as simple as it seems on the surface. Nothing is black and white, especially when it comes to the government. Some insiders think the CIA actually orchestrates the global narcotics trade and facilitates laundering the profits.”

Tensing inwardly, I squeezed my purse until my knuckles whitened. “That’s crazy.”

Sighing, he said, “Maybe, maybe not, but
do you realize what would happen to my family if the U.S. government threw its resources behind the Alvarez Cartel?”

“The Vargas Cartel would make less money,” I mocked.

Ryker slammed his open palm against the desk, frustration etched into every line of his face. “No. I wish that were all it meant. Wouldn’t that be simple?”

I balled my hands into fists. “Then what?”

Ryker raked his hands through his already disheveled hair, bringing attention to his bloodied and cracked knuckles. “The U.S. government would supply a steady stream of AK-47s to the Alvarez Cartel, along with other small favors that would give them the advantage. They’d finally have the manpower and weapons to overpower the Vargas Cartel.”