Your Next Breath (35 page)

“Would you recognize him?”

Dario nodded. “I’ve run into him a time or two in Trinidad and Jamaica. Pretty nasty. Do you want me to take him out?”

“No. I told you, I can’t interfere.”

“But you will if it’s Santos and not Pablo.”

He nodded shortly. “Then it won’t be a capture, it will be a murder. And even if it’s Pablo, I may have to intervene. Catherine is supposed to let them take her with only a token resistance.”

Dario gave a low whistle. “And you don’t believe she’s capable of doing that? I tend to agree with you. She would find it impossible to give in meekly to Pablo. But that would make her resistance appear more authentic.”

“If he doesn’t kill her.” His gaze was fixed on the brief glimpses he was getting of Catherine, who was almost two blocks ahead of them. She was moving slowly, warily, her head lifted as if she was listening.

Soon.

He could feel his tension growing as he waited for the attack to come.

The attack he couldn’t stop.

If Santos was there, the attack would stop before it began.

Catherine would die.

And then Cameron would kill Santos before he breathed another breath.

More warehouses.

Shadows.

Crates.

Trucks.

Machinery.

It should happen here, now.

Catherine thought so, too. He could read her body language, the tension, the hesitation, as her gaze searched the darkness.

She was passing a huge crane.

Shadows … moving!

Leaping out from behind the crane!

Three, no, four men.

Catherine whirled and the heel of her boot caught one of her attackers in the throat. She leaped forward, and her fist plowed into another man’s belly, and then her foot shot backward and caught the man behind her in the groin. He fell to his knees.

“Give it up, Catherine,” Cameron murmured beneath his breath. He knew the instinct that was driving her. That was one of the primary reasons he had followed her. But these men had weapons, and she had none.

The man she had kicked in the groin was now on his feet and drawing his gun.

“Shit.”
Cameron drew his own gun.

But the man wasn’t firing. The butt of the gun was coming down with vicious force on Catherine’s head.

Her legs buckled, and she fell to her knees. The next moment, she was crumpled on the dock, unconscious.

The man who had struck her was cursing, and he took a step forward. He lifted his foot and kicked Catherine viciously in the rib cage.

“Son of a
bitch.
” Cameron’s gaze was fixed on the man’s face, memorizing every feature. “Who is he? Do you know him?”

“Juan Pablo,” Dario said. “She was fairly incredible, wasn’t she? I can see why you were worried. That was no token. But I think she made him a little angry.”

“That’s nothing to what he made me,” Cameron said. He watched as one of the men picked up Catherine’s limp body and carried her down the dock. He could feel the rage tearing through him. He had to forcibly resist the temptation to go after them. Stick to the plan. Go with Dario and his men to the island and bring Santos to his knees.

And slaughter that prick Pablo later.

CHAPTER

15

Pain.

“Wake up, bitch.”

Catherine’s head jerked as she was struck on the side of her cheek.

She tried to open her eyes.

Another blow, this one splitting her lower lip.

“I don’t want you lying there like a zombie. Open your damn eyes.”

Santos. It had to be Santos. Catherine forced her lids to open.

Santos’s face was only a foot away from her own, and his eyes were blazing, his lips drawn back from his teeth like a feral animal. “Yes, that’s what I want. Pablo shouldn’t have hit you. I’m the only one who’s permitted to cause you pain.” He raised his hand and whipped it again across her face. “Maybe later. Maybe when I get tired and just want to watch your final throes of agony.”

“How … dramatic. Was that supposed to intimidate me?”

He hit her again.

Okay, don’t taunt him. She had to stop him from hitting her until she could clear her mind. Where was she?

Sand. She was lying on … sand. Darkness. Palm trees. She could hear the ocean’s surf close by. She must be on the island.

Yes, there was a speedboat anchored a short distance away, and three men standing, watching Santos. She recognized one as the man she’d kicked. The other two she didn’t remember.

How long had she been here? Had Cameron had time to get around to the other side of the island yet?

Ask.

“I don’t remember anything after I was struck on the head. How long have I been here?”

“Too long. A couple hours. I thought Pablo might have spoiled everything. I couldn’t wake you.”

“I could have shot her.” One of the men stepped forward. “I only hit her.”

“Shut up, Pablo,” Santos said. “I wanted her to be clearheaded and able to appreciate everything I’m going to do to her. Go on up to the tomb and wait for me.”

She watched the man scurry up the beach. “Two hours. He must have hit me very hard. Though I’m sure you were ever so gentle about bringing me around.”

He hit her again.

Two hours. It could be long enough for Cameron. She would have to see.

“You’re suddenly very quiet,” Santos said softly. “Are you feeling how alone you are? All your friends, and none of them can help you now.” He reached down, grabbed her arm, and jerked her to her feet.

“At least I have friends,” she said. “You have no one, Santos. No one cares whether you live or die.”

“They care. Because I’m the one who says whether they live or die.” He pushed her down the beach toward a path winding beneath the overhanging palms. “But now it’s time for me to take you to Delores. You’ve kept her waiting. I meant to have more time with you on my own, but you’ve spoiled that.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, perhaps I’ll enjoy it even more thinking how she would feel when I begin on you. Delores was always more imaginative than I was when it came to discipline. She could stretch punishment out for days, and she would try so many new toys…”

“I’m sure that she was everything you say she was.” She gave him a cool glance. “And I couldn’t be happier that I blew her away. I wish she were alive, so that I could do it again.”

Rage. Twisting, ugly, rage that contorted his features. “She is alive,” he hissed. “You’ll see. You couldn’t kill her. You’re not good enough. She fooled you. She fooled everyone. She’s alive. She’s only waiting.”

“You’re crazy,” she said. “And Delores was just as crazy to lead you down the path toward such a bizarre scheme. It’s all pretense and lies, and you can’t even see it.”

“Pretense? Lies? Was it a lie when I showed you that photo of your son? You didn’t think so. I could sense your fear. Delores would have loved that moment.” He smiled. “As she’ll love the moment when I give the order for your Luke to be shot.”

She stiffened. “I’m here. I’m the one you want.”

“But I have to feel your pain. You keep it so well hidden that it takes a great deal to make you reveal it.”

“That was a freak incident when Luke was targeted. Hu Chang takes good care of him. He’ll find the man you’ve planted outside my home stalking Luke. I’ve told him not to let my son leave the house for a while. It might never happen again.”

Santos laughed. “No? You think he’s just skulking in the shadows and dodging your people? That photo was taken through a window while Luke was in his bedroom. I have a shooter in the attic of an old Victorian house over a thousand feet away. Donald Lambell is an expert marksman I hired in Iraq and he answers only to me. I didn’t even trust Dorgal to know about him.”

Panic raced through her. Oh, God, and the fact that they’d told Hu Chang to keep Luke inside had actually set him up for the shooter.

Don’t let Santos see the fear that was tearing at her. He was waiting for a reaction. Don’t give it to him. “And I thought that you and Dorgal were soul mates. Both tarred by the same brush.”

“Delores never trusted him. Why should I? She’s the one who hired Lambell in case I ever had to use him to take Dorgal out if he becomes too troublesome.” He smiled. “So you can see, Lambell is my ace in the hole. If Dorgal’s men can’t make the hit, Lambell will do it. I called him last night and told him to be ready for the kill. So all your safety measures are going to be for nothing. As soon as I give the word, he’s going to blow your Luke’s handsome head off.”

Catherine felt sick. He was so terribly certain.

And he could see what she was feeling in spite of every effort to keep it from him. “Yes, that’s what I want from you. Horror. Your worst nightmare. No more photos. I might just let you get a Skype shot when he pulls the trigger. What a terrible feeling. And you wouldn’t be able to give him his chance to live, as I gave Delores. No Dr. Montez for your son. No chance for him. No chance for you. It gives you a different perspective, doesn’t it?”

“It makes me wonder if there’s a hell that’s horrible enough for God to send you to.” She swallowed. “It won’t happen. You’ll fail, Santos.”

“Shall I take out my phone and give the word?”

She didn’t answer.

“You’re frightened. I like that. But I’ll wait until we’re with Delores to kill the boy. She was always one to appreciate the turn of the knife.”

“She’s dead, dammit.”

“Only in your eyes. But you may change your mind when you see her.” He gestured up the hill. “You see that granite tomb? Isn’t it splendid? The finest black granite, the doors crafted of Italian bronze. Everything about it is meant to be a frame for a queen. My queen. You were so interested in Montez and what he was doing for me. Now you can see for yourself.”

“Montez is here?”

“Of course. I would have had him killed in Guatemala if I hadn’t wanted him as an insurance policy for Delores.”

“And for you.”

“Yes.” He shrugged. “But I have no intention of needing his services.”

“Neither did Delores.”

“But she was always more cautious than me. I went along with her, and I’m glad I did. For her sake. I intend to live for a long, long time before I need Montez. But when I do, he’ll always be here … waiting. Just as he’s doing now. You see him standing there by the door of the tomb? I thought you should see that you’d failed with him, too. He came to me last night and told me that he wouldn’t cause me any more trouble if I spared him and his family.”

“Poor bastard.”

“He’s learned his lesson. Now it’s time you learned yours, Catherine.”

They had reached the tomb, and the sheer massiveness of the structure was overwhelming, Catherine thought.

Weapons.

Had Cameron managed to hide her gun and knife?

Gardenias. The scent of the ivory-colored blossoms drifted heavy and fragrant on the air.

She could see the large, oval, granite tray before the ornate bronze door, and heaped on it were the bouquets of gardenias. She couldn’t tell if her weapons were stashed beneath them, but she had to assume that they were.

Or pray that they were.

How to get to them?

“Hello.” Eduardo Montez stepped forward. “I told you that what you were doing was useless, Catherine. I couldn’t fight against him, and neither can you.”

Did he mean it? Cameron had been sure he’d influenced him, but she couldn’t be sure. Had Montez finally caved to the pressure?

“Speak for yourself,” she said jerkily. “I’ll fight him until there’s no breath left in my body.”

“Which will be very soon.” Santos chuckled. He took her arm and shoved her toward the tomb entrance. “Let’s start the process right now. I guarantee seeing Delores will take your breath away.”

“No.” She stopped before the door and then spun around to stand defiantly in front of the gardenia tray. “I won’t go and pay some kind of sick homage to that bitch,” she said fiercely. “If you want to kill me, do it here.”

“You will go in that tomb.” Santos’s face was flushed, and his eyes were glittering with rage. “You’re going to know that you failed.”

“The hell I will.” Push him just a little more. “Screw you, Santos.”

She spit in his face.

He made a sound of pure animal rage.

He backhanded her across the face with all his strength.

Pain.

Ignore it.

Use it.

She cried out, spun away, and fell.

Straight down into the granite tray of gardenias.

The scent of flowers was overwhelming as her face buried itself in the soft blossoms.

Dizzy. Her head was whirling from the blow. For an instant she couldn’t move.

That was okay. He had struck her with such force, he would expect her to be stunned.

Her hands reached out blindly beneath her.

Where was it?

Cool metal …

Her right hand closed on the butt of her Luger. Too big. Too risky. She wouldn’t be able to hide it in her jacket.

Her dagger …

She found it!

She flipped it under her jacket sleeve.

“Are you all right?” Montez was kneeling beside her, his expression concerned. “I told you not to fight him.”

“Get away from her,” Santos said harshly. “Get on your feet, you stinking whore.”

“In a minute.” She made a show of struggling to get to her feet. While pushing the bouquets of gardenias back over the gun.

“Call me whatever you want.” She could feel the blood running down from her split lip to her chin as she finally stood before him. She glared at him defiantly. “It was worth it, you know. Has anyone else ever spit in your ugly face?”

He drew back his hand, then dropped it to his side. “I think you must want me to kill you. Do you? That would avoid having to admit that you’re responsible for my butchering your son.” He opened the bronze door. “But I’m not going to let you get away with it. You have to experience it all. Come in and see my Delores.” He pushed her inside the dim interior. “And you’ll see why I permitted Montez to stay alive.”

She glanced at Montez over her shoulder. If she expected some sign of encouragement, she was disappointed. His face was without expression.

“You’ll excuse the chill. Delores requires it. But it doesn’t interfere with the d
é
cor. All the mechanics are in an underground room.” Santos was turning on the gothic torchlight beside the door, and the dimness suddenly came alive. The flickering bulbs revealed a room that was magnificent in every detail. It looked like a cross between an Egyptian temple, with stately, gilt chairs and statues on malachite pedestals, and a Persian palace, with thick carpets that covered the cold stone of the floor. There were dozens of photos of Delores in gilt and bejeweled frames on the walls. “The lowered temperature cuts down on additional power needs.”