Blood Bound (A Dark Cartel Romance) (Dinero de Sangre Book 3) Page 4

  He inclines his head, and a fraction of moonlight illuminates his eyes long enough to catch the glimmer of interest that flits across them. “I think it would be better if you listen. You’re about to get a crash course in the Domingas Cartel.”

  I hold my breath. For all I know, the promise of information could be his way of luring me into another trap. Another mind game. More lies.

  But, fuck it. I’m desperate to learn any scrap of info, and he knows it. With a sigh of defeat, I start to sit, only to realize how hard it is to maneuver with my right arm in the brace. Losing balance, I nearly pitch over—but a firm grip on my left hand saves me from the impending impact.

  The second I can steady myself, I wrench my hand away, my cheeks flaming. Then I sit down on the hard earth, heedless of whatever creatures might be slithering nearby. “Start talking,” I snap.

  He sits as well but counters me with a demand of his own, “Let’s see how well you were paying attention. Do you remember that name I told you? Who used to run the cartel?”

  I swallow hard, unnerved by this impromptu pop quiz. “Carlos,” I say, recalling that name. “Jaguar’s father?”

  “Yes. And he was just one of many players you’ll need to remember. Here—” He withdraws something from the sack that he hands to me. I recognize it from feel alone—a water bottle. Eagerly, I drink from it, aware of his gaze on my throat.

  As I swallow, I risk choking out another question. “Is Luis another ‘player,’ too?”

  He looks away, scanning our surroundings with an eagle-like focus. Finally, he says, “Consider him an old friend of your family’s, but not someone important at the moment.”

  His tone contains a warning—I’m testing his patience.

  “I-I’m listening,” I say.

  “I suggest you do,” he warns. “This is the only shot you’ll get to understand a small piece of the mess you’ve found yourself in. Carlos ran the Guarida. He operated on both sides of the border, using his clubs as a front for his true trade in cocaine. Jaguar’s continued his tradition, but in a lesser capacity. Thanks to Roy Pavalos, another man now claims most of the old Domingas territory. His name is Mateo Morello.”

  “Mateo…” I recognize that name though I’m not sure how. I think he said it once, referring to a passport. Mateo is fucking me on the timeline—.

  “He and Jaguar have something of a truce now, but it’s only a matter of time before one goes for the other’s throat. The main territory in dispute sits along the border, the perfect spot to transfer goods from either side.”

  Could that be his intended route to reenter Terra Rodea? I start to ask, but Domino continues, even as my lips part.

  “Jaguar’s expanded his father’s business well beyond what Carlos ever intended. The old man never dabbled in anything beyond the drug trade, and perhaps illegal weapons. Blinded by ambition, Jaguar’s been taking on whatever business can get him the most money the fastest, morals aside. The only problem was the border. Without a stable crossing point, he found it hard to keep up a regular supply while avoiding the authorities. That’s where Mateo comes into play. Both Jaguar and your father used him as a middleman. Ironically, I could communicate with him, even after I worked for your father, without drawing notice.”

  “How convenient,” I interject.

  He nods. “Unfortunately, Mateo has taken to transporting more of his own merchandise than Jaguar likes, but tipping the scales without an insurance policy would risk closing off his access to the border completely.”

  “So, what are you saying?”

  “What I’m saying is that whoever can take out Mateo controls the flow of trade in and out of Terra. That puts us in the middle of a powder keg I’d rather not see blow up in my face.”

  I note the way he phrases that. Carefully. As if to disguise that one key player in this mix has every reason to crave the same outcome.

  “What’s your gain in all of this?”

  He grabs the water bottle from me and takes a drink. Beads of liquid drip down his chin as he eyes the sky, letting the moonlight bathe his face completely.

  “I never planned on making my move quite this early,” he admits. Rarely have I heard him use this tone. Deep and rasping, devoid of any anger or rage. He’s speaking unguardedly for once. “I knew I would leverage a strike against Pavalos and Jaguar, preferably at the same time. But once again you, Ada-Maria, seem determined to accelerate my timeline.”

  His eyes find mine, but I don’t see anything remotely close to gratitude in them.

  “What do you want from me?” I demand, hating how soft my voice sounds in comparison to his.

  He shuffles to face me directly, his legs outstretched. “I want answers. Answers about Pia. You can start with the night she went missing.”

  A heavy knot of dread settles in my stomach. Perhaps I’m too much of an optimist, but I never imagined I’d have to relive those memories in the middle of the desert, seated beside a madman.

  It’s not fair. Pia is one of the few secrets that has always remained mine, ignored at my discretion—and I liked it that way. I relished the control that relegating Pia Inglecias to the past gave me, no matter how pathetic it was. And were I to provide Domino even a fragment of those memories, I’d want it to be on my terms.

  Only mine.

  “Why?” I ask, evading a direct answer for now. “What are you looking for? Besides, what makes you think I’d even tell you a damn thing? You’ve already established that I’m doomed either way.”

  “Ada…”

  I brace for the rage I’ve come to expect. For his nostrils to flare and for his eyes to narrow. Instead, he merely steals another sip of water, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  “You aren’t the least bit curious?” he asks, switching his tone from cold to cautious. “You claim you know exactly why Pia did what she did, but then I tell you that you’re wrong. That your father killed her, and that it was over something far more valuable than money. And yet, you aren’t curious as to the truth behind it all?”

  “Why should I be?” I counter, but hell, he has a point. Maybe the answer is simple—I don’t want to know. “Nothing changes the fact that I’m here with you now. You’ve already taken me from Jaguar, and I suspect that puts you in just as much danger. It seems like you’re all out of threats, Domino.”

  He laughs before taking another long swig. “My Ada and her smart fucking mouth. So let’s say I release you right now, and you manage to make it to Terra Rodea on your own–assuming Jaguar doesn’t drag your sweet ass off to the Guarida, and you manage to become a free woman. A happy ending with sparkles and roses. But then what?”

  I haven’t dared to envision such a scenario. When I do, one glaring reality sucks any hope from the prospect.

  “Oh, that’s right,” Domino softly remarks. “I’ll tell you what happens—you go right back to being the daughter of Roy Pavalos. A man out for blood. You claimed to know your father better than anyone, so you do the honors and tell me what he might do to you. Especially after you’ve been in the hands of his enemies for so long?”

  “Go to hell,” I spit.

  “I’ll see you there,” he snaps back. “Because we both know exactly what he’ll do. He’ll lock you inside that beautiful familial estate and beat that precious sense of loyalty back into you. Piece by piece. Then he’d bandage together whatever was left, package them neatly with a little pink bow and send you back out into the world under his discretion. There is no escape from him, no matter what you delude yourself into thinking.”

  Damn him. I never realized how a few short weeks without my father’s presence might change me—and ironically, not for the better. Three weeks ago, I had a sense of direction, even if that direction led toward hell.

  Now? My perception of the future is in pieces. And the reality I never wanted to face is staring at me—literally—impossible to ignore.

  In a sick twist of fate, I went from having my father pull my puppet strings, to watching Domino Valenciaga dangle them directly in front of me.

  “And,” he continues, “are you really so sure he didn’t try to have you killed? I know you don’t trust me, but you aren’t that stupid. What I’ve told you sounds plausible enough. Admit it.”

  I close my eyes, wishing more than anything that I had the strength to just ignore him and surrender to whatever fate this desert has in store.

  But there is a possibility that fate could lead me straight to Jaguar, and it doesn’t seem so tempting anymore.

  “I want you to tell me the truth,” I say, opening my eyes again to his silhouette bathed in silvery moonlight. He can seem so beautiful it hurts, his eyes a dangerous green. The sad part is, if he could offer even a hint of real kindness, I’d swallow anything he told me.

  “No more lies,” I rasp. “No more mind games. Tell me what you’re really after. It’s not like I’m a threat to you—”

  “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” Without warning, he cups my cheek against a calloused palm. The intensity in his eyes sends a shudder through me. It’s more predatory than smug. “You are the single biggest threat to me there is, Ada-Maria. With one word, you can destroy everything I’ve spent the past decade working toward. I can’t risk you doing that. Not until you’ve proven yourself.”

  To him. It stings how easily he’s managed to turn the tables, making me the enemy—when he’s the one who dragged me into this mess.

  “I’m starting to question if you really are a better option than Jaguar.”

  His hand slides down my jaw only to grasp my uninjured wrist instead. Possessively, he runs his thumb over the protruding bones. It’s a chilling caress—and an unmistakable warning.

  “I haven’t broken your wrist the last time I checked,” h
e softly reminds me. “I haven’t whipped you until you were on the verge of death, either—”

  “But you still whipped me,” I hiss, ripping my hand from his grasp. “You took pleasure in hurting me, and you enjoy having me squirm for your amusement, so pardon me, Domino, if I’m not willing to place you on a pedestal.”

  “So, don’t,” he counters with that infuriating calm back on display. “Everything I’ve done has been for my own reasons; I don’t deny that. But…”

  I swallow at his hesitation. Any perceived weakness on his end is only a trap, meant to lower my guard. Still, I can’t help myself by playing right into it.

  Voice rasping, I ask, “But what?”

  “I would be lying if I didn’t tell you that there was another reason why I intervened when I did.”

  I suck in a breath. Could what he said before be the truth? God, I’m such a fool for even wanting to believe it…

  “Then why?”

  “Because your mother asked me to,” he says. “And I can prove it.”

  So many emotions strike me all at once, I can’t process them. I just breathe…

  Within minutes I’m sobbing, feeling fresh tears mercilessly lash down my cheeks.

  “How dare you?” Though, am I truly surprised by the depths he seems willing to sink to? I shouldn’t be. “I can understand you hating me, but my mother was nothing but kind to you—”

  “You don’t even know the half of it.” The worst part is that he seems to be agreeing with me. “Which is why I did what she asked. I intervened, though I would have done so regardless—but I can prove it, and more. So, what will you do? Continue to pout or listen to me for once, and take what I’m telling you at face value.”

  Listen to him. It’s not like I have any other choice.

  “What are you talking about? What did my mother tell you?”

  “Not yet.” He shoves the water bottle into my hand again. “I’ll reveal that tidbit of information in my own time. But I will educate you on another topic—you. Keeping you away from Jaguar relies on getting you across the border in time. Every second you doubt me, risks that. So, if you want to stay alive, then keep moving. Now drink.”

  I’ve barely taken a sip when he snatches the bottle back, stowing it into his bag. I expect him to move on, leaving me to catch up. Abruptly, he snags my uninjured wrist instead, hauling me to my feet.

  “We’re almost there,” he bites into my ear. “And whether you’re ready to hear them or not, you’ll get your answers soon enough.”

  Chapter Four

  Morning comes with a scorching heat that sears my skin before the sun fully rises. Only sheer pride keeps me moving. If I stop, I doubt I could get up again.

  Infuriatingly, Domino hasn’t even broken a sweat. His speed remains steady over the uneven ground, and I suspect that I’ve only kept up with him because he’s tailored his pace. If he wanted to, he could easily leave me behind to rot.

  Would such an end be so bad, all things considered?

  I’m starting to fantasize that very scenario when I spy something up ahead glaringly different from the reddish landscape surrounding it. The closer we come, the clearer it is to make out—a square structure of wood with a rusted metal roof. It looks like it could have been a gas station or a store at one point, though long since falling into disrepair.

  “This is it?” I ask in between pants at Domino’s back. “This is your way over the border?”

  “Keep moving,” he replies, hiking his bags higher on his shoulder. “The sooner you make it, the sooner you can sleep. We can’t move again until evening, at least.”

  The veiled offer of rest spurs on my tired limbs, though I should have learned my lesson about trusting him by now. For all I know, beyond the walls of that decrepit shack, Jaguar lies in wait, ready to cart me off while Domino watches on with that blank, unreadable expression.

  Even so, I can’t ignore the way his words replay in my brain. I wanted you. I stayed for you. I was always there for you…

  “Stay close,” he warns.

  I startle to awareness and realize that not only have I found the strength to keep moving, but I’ve surpassed him by a few feet. I wish I were brave enough to pull ahead entirely. Run. Get inside that shack and barricade it against him, or—better yet—breeze past it. Leave Domino and his twisted world behind and hope to come across anything better.

  Though who am I kidding? The happiest ending I have to look forward to is dying before he or Jaguar can desecrate my body for their own means.

  “Don’t get any cute ideas,” Domino remarks, and his relaxed façade cracks, revealing the tension lurking beneath.

  Damn him. Teeth gritted, I slow enough for him to pull ahead.

  Despite seeming so close, it feels like hours pass before we finally reach the crumbling shelter. With the sun beating down relentlessly, every second scrapes by. I’m standing only by pure muscle memory. Sweat soaks through my sweater, dripping down my forehead in rivulets.

  Domino must sense my exhaustion because he appears by my side, grabbing my left arm the second I start to sway. “Don’t look up,” he commands. “Breathe in through your nose. It’s just a little further.”

  I marvel at the concern. Then I remember that Domino Valenciaga always has a motive. Craning my neck, I eye him through a haze of stinging sweat, searching for whatever his aim might be.

  All I find is the same handsome face that’s haunted me for so damn long. Like always, I’m unable to discern an ounce of emotion from it.

  With renewed determination, I focus on walking, forcing one foot in front of the other.

  Domino releases me as we finally approach the door. Shrugging off his sack, he seems to inspect the area. Up close, abandoned seems too kind a term for this structure. More like… Lost. A small sliver of the world passed over by time, leaving behind a weathered husk liable to collapse should the wind blow hard enough.

  “It’s going to storm,” Domino remarks, casting a wary glance at the sky. I copy him, skeptical. To me, it seems like an endless blue with nothing to shield the sun.

  “The rain will help cover our tracks,” he adds. “But it will make it harder if it doesn’t stop by tonight. Get in. We don’t have long to prepare.”

  It’s strange to hear him speak so openly. I’m exhausted enough to chalk it up to my brain hearing what it wants to hear. Seeing what it wants to see.

  Like the searching look he sends my way before he reaches for the door. Rather than test the handle or retrieve a key from somewhere, he wrenches on a loose plank of wood that seems barely attached to the structure overall. It gives way in a cloud of reddish dirt, and I do a double take at what lies beneath it.

  A pristine electronic keypad affixed to the wall doesn’t seem possible in an area so remote. Even more shocking is how it comes to life as Domino taps a series of keys. With a subtle beeping sound, a decisive metallic thud echoes somewhere behind the door.

  Domino finally tugs on the rusted door handle, and it opens, but the interior doesn’t seem worthy of the heightened security. The wooden walls are so decrepit in places, slivers of the reddish landscape outside are visible—and yet it’s stuffy, the air thick. So much for Domino’s promise of rest as well. There doesn’t seem to be any furniture to “rest” on, let alone supply a supposed desperate trek across the border.

  Even so, Domino only hesitates to grab his bags before urging me inside with a jerk of his chin. Then he slams the door behind us both, and I half-expect it to fall off its hinges entirely.

  “What is this place?” I ask.

  “Move.” He pushes past me and crouches, smoothing his hand along the dust-coated floor. Without warning, he curls his fingers around one of the floorboards and tugs.

  In a cloud of dust, part of the floor gives way entirely—a trap door. Coughing, I peer into the gaping square space cut directly into the earth itself. Wooden steps lead deep underground—too far to even see where they end from here.

  “Come on.” Once again, Domino hefts both bags and descends the staircase first. An unsettling rattle issues from the wood every time his foot lands against it, and I hesitate, noting that the trapdoor at least seems capable of standing on its own.

  Still, I take another glance at the rickety door we entered through. My foot twitches against the wood before I remember there is no way in hell I could outrun him.