The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(26)

Not more than ten or so minutes later, I tripped over an exposed tree root, and I flew face first into the dirt. Every inch of my body ached, and bone-deep shooting pains radiated through my ankle. I wiggled it. Holy shit. I bit back a scream. It killed. I wasn’t going anywhere tonight unless I crawled on all fours, and even then, I wouldn’t get far. During the fall, tiny rocks had torn the skin of my knees and palms.

I rolled to my side and cradled my body against a tree trunk. Dirt and leaves coated my skin, and as I closed my eyes, I said a little prayer that it would be enough camouflage to conceal me for a while.

I needed to rest for a few minutes….

Maybe an hour.





Chapter Fourteen




My eyes fluttered open briefly and then closed again. I was hot. No, hot didn’t adequately describe it. I kicked off the damp sheet smothering my body and flipped onto my stomach, but the position didn’t reduce my discomfort.

My body vibrated with pain. My stomach felt empty, and my eyes were dry and gritty. I groaned, rolling onto my back again, not opening my eyes.

“Are you in pain?”

I shot up in the bed, instantly awake. I scanned the room, but nothing looked familiar. Transparent netting hung from the ceiling, enclosing the bed in a haze of billowing white material. Bright light poured in through the open windows, and shadows of palm trees danced along the light yellow plaster walls. It looked like it was still morning, but I couldn’t be sure.

And then I saw him. “Ryker?” The words came out strained and barely recognizable to my own ears.

He stood up from a dark brown wooden bench beside the bed and pushed aside the netting. His eyes scrutinized every inch of my body. “You should sleep longer,” he finally said.

I shook my head, trying to remember how I ended up here. I remembered falling in the jungle and deciding to rest. I suppose I fell asleep instead. “How?” My voice cracked.

“I found you.”

I didn’t respond. Instead, my mind circled repeatedly, chasing down my lost memories. I had a vague impression of being in the back seat of a jeep-like vehicle. The sky was just starting to transform from black to gray as my body rolled from side to side with each jarring bump, but beyond that…I didn’t remember anything. I nodded. “Where am I?” The rudimentary furniture didn’t resemble anything I’d seen in the villa, and the room had a window, so I wasn’t in another windowless prison cell on the villa grounds.

He ignored my question and sat on the bed next to my hip. I scrambled away, but his hand came down hard on my thigh, stopping my retreat. Heat rushed through me, and goose bumps erupted on my leg despite my determination to remain unaffected by him. No. Not again.

His eyes dropped to my leg, and he smiled a lush, upward curve of his lips. My breath caught in my throat. His touch wasn’t particularly predatory or sexual, but my body didn’t get the message. Alert and standing at attention, my body wanted him even as my mind screamed a loud, resounding, no f*cking way.

“Are you thirsty?”

I wanted to tell him no, but I was so thirsty and hungry I caved. I nodded. “And hungry.”

A lazy grin floated across his lips, and my treasonous heart fluttered with mischief. “Good. Breakfast should arrive in a few minutes.” His hand roamed down my leg to my knee and then my foot. Red lashes and purples bruises blanketed my legs from my knees to my feet. “You didn’t answer my question. Are you in pain?”

“I’ll live,” I said, snatching my foot out of his hand. His touch scrambled my brain and turned my thoughts inside out. “Well, maybe not now that you found me,” I amended with a shrug of one of my shoulders. “Are you going to kill me? Punish me?”

His eyebrows lifted, but he didn’t respond because someone with less than perfect timing knocked on the door. I wanted to know what he planned to do to me.

“That’s your breakfast.” He stood up, but after few steps, he paused with his hand on the doorknob. “You can scream or say whatever you want when I open the door. It won’t matter. This bed and breakfast is under the protection of the Vargas Cartel.”

I scrambled out of the bed. “And what does that mean?”

“That they exist because we let them exist.” My blank look didn’t escape his notice. “The owners of the bed and breakfast pay the Vargas Cartel a monthly quota or tax to ensure their business isn’t disturbed. The owners won’t jeopardize the arrangement to save some random American girl.”

“Like in the old movies about Al Capone where businesses had to pay for protection from the mafia.”

“Exactly. The Vargas Cartel taxes bars, discos, and hundreds of other small businesses.” Ryker shrugged. “It makes the businesses complicit in the crime network and secures the cartel’s territory.”

I folded my arms across my chest, as my optimism of finding help dwindled with every word that left Ryker’s mouth. “How did you explain showing up last night with an unconscious woman, or is that a normal occurrence for you?”

He glanced over his shoulder. “I told them you’re my girlfriend.”

“Asshole,” I mumbled under my breath, but my insult didn’t faze him. He chuckled as he opened the door.

“Ricardo. Buenas tardes,” Ryker said when he opened the door. “Gracias por complaciente mi novia y yo.”