Heated Pursuit (Alpha Security #1)(72)

“He didn’t tell me about any changes.”

“And he won’t either—because he’s dead.”

Collins looked taken back for about five whole seconds. “This better not interfere with my payout. I performed a service that doesn’t come cheap.”

“And your brand of services is no longer required. Consider this your termination letter.” A single gunshot reverberated off the tree line, and Collins dropped to the ground less than three inches from Penny’s feet. Once again, she found herself in the sights of a gun, this time Marco’s. “Now that I’ve dealt with that unpleasant business…with me, mi bonita.”

“Is this the part where you tell me if I come willingly, things will go much easier?” Penny asked brazenly. What the hell did she have to lose? Her only chance of getting out of this alive was if she pissed him off enough that he made a mistake.

“I wish I could tell you that you’ll enjoy your stay with us, but I’d hate to lie.”

Marco grabbed her restraints and tugged her into the warehouse. Every few yards, he placed his finger on another electrical scanning pad. They went deeper and deeper into the building. Each hall looked the same, some leading to dead ends while others led to another set of long corridors. It was the jungle version of Fort Knox, far beyond the warehouse it looked to be from the outside.

“What makes you think you can get away with this?” Penny asked.

“Because I already have…with a shit-ton of explosives. Poof! No more Alpha Security. Beautiful, wasn’t it? The explosion? So much destruction, so many bodies.” He turned, catching her look of horror. “Ah. Don’t worry, mi bonita. I assure you that your mourning for your Rafael has an expiration date. Once you’ve had your first few tastes of Freedom, you won’t feel a thing. You’ll be blessedly…empty.”

Hearing Rafe’s name fall from the man’s lips brought the fire in her gut straight out her mouth. “Go to hell.”

Bells chimed with the impact of a second slap, and with it came the metallic taste of blood. Penny didn’t care. She spat into his face.

Marco didn’t so much as flinch as he calmly wiped the offending spittle away. And then he was in her face, close enough for her to gag on the stench of his cologne. “You are going to pay both for your interference and for that of your little boyfriend. Now that my father’s out of the way, I’ll make everyone pay and pay dearly.”

At her look of confusion, Marco’s lips slid into a ruthless smile. “Didn’t see the family resemblance until now? Being the son of one of Diego’s whores didn’t warrant me climbing too high in his esteem, but look at me now. Now I’m the one in control. I’m the one with all the power.”

When a nearby door buzzed open, he shoved her through it. “You’ll stay here until I can deal with you appropriately. I suggest you use your time wisely because I haven’t figured how much of it you have left.”

The door slammed shut, leaving her with nothing but a dim light from somewhere in the corner of the room. But it wasn’t until she heard the loud clank of the lock slipping into place that Penny’s resolve turned liquid.

Rafe’s scent still clung to her clothes. His touch still warmed her skin. But he was gone. Forever. Fat tears poured down her cheeks, and the more she pictured his face, the more that dropped in a torrential downpour.

He’d believed in her. He’d taken a chance on her. He’d shown her that some risks were worth taking—no matter the cost. And she wasn’t going to let him down. Fuentes—either of them—would not break her. Lifting her shoulders, she wiped the dampness from her cheeks and took a deep, fortifying breath.

“P-Penny?”

At the soft whimper, Penny’s attention whipped to the back of the room. Shadows clung to the corners, but even in the faint light, the bodies were impossible to miss. Ranging in ages from midteens to younger adults, nearly a dozen women stared back at her. Rumpled and dirtied, their clothes hung off their frames like rags on a hanger, and they all looked to be of Miskito heritage.

Except one.

Red hair, slightly more muted than Penny’s own, stood out from the mass of brunettes. Rachel’s lean runner’s body was gone, leaving behind paper-thin skin and protruding bones that couldn’t have weighed an ounce over a hundred pounds.

“R-Rachel?” Penny stared in disbelief.

Tear streaks marred Rachel’s dirt-encrusted face. She stepped forward on spindly legs, and they gave way, crumpling her slight frame to the floor. “Is that really you? Or am I imagining you?”

Rachel’s tears spurred Penny from her frozen state. She flew across the room. A few of the women scattered nervously in all directions as she dropped to her knees in front of her niece. “I’m here, Rach. You’re not imagining me. I’m here. For you.”

Penny brushed a lock of auburn hair from Rachel’s face. At the sight of her once vibrant, jubilant eyes turned dull and blank, Penny’s heart shattered into a million pieces.

“You shouldn’t have come,” Rachel’s soft voice murmured. “You should’ve left me here, Penn. Now we’re both dead.”





CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO



Militia guards stalked the periphery of Fuentes’s real warehouse, badass submachine guns propped on their shoulders. They worked in pairs, monitoring the comings and goings of the worker bees loading and unloading supplies to and from a line of waiting cargo jeeps.