Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59119 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 236(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
I made a mental note about his impatience as well. That one wasn’t without clues. He undoubtedly had places to be, people who were expecting him…
Was his absence causing mayhem in other parts of Europe? Or maybe where Carillo was—or was headed? We didn’t know the part Delgado was going to play in Carillo’s move across the Atlantic. We only knew Delgado had played a significant part in the past. Carillo trusted this man to a higher degree than he trusted others.
“If you wanna get out of here, you’re gonna have to give me more than that,” I said. “I don’t care what my buddy got in the way of, but he’s not affiliated in any way or involved with the drug trade. If your boss lets him go…” I shrugged and finished my food. “You’d never see me again.”
He narrowed his eyes. “What exactly is he affiliated with?”
Maybe it was a good time to tell him. Because I really wanted him to think I had nothing to do with organized crime on his level. “Let’s just say Shay and I are wanted for some friendly sabotaging at four coal mines in the US.”
His stare flickered as he drew his conclusions, and it was comical how he actually looked offended. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Yeah, he was ticked off. “I got kidnapped by a goddamn environmentalist?”
Oh my God, it took all my strength not to burst out in laughter.
Instead, I had to get angry and hop up on a high horse.
“Fuck you,” I told him. “You old motherfuckers need to fucking die already. Saving our planet is—”
“I don’t have time for this fucking nonsense,” he growled. Hot damn, he could not look more furious. As in, angrier than last night. “Let me go right now. Your friend will probably be fine. If he’s held for ransom, pay the damn money, and move on with your lives.”
I shook my head, maintaining a stubborn front.
His response made me feel more confident. He’d bought my act. He had to. ’Cause if he’d believed I was more involved in the dirty underworld of drugs, he wouldn’t have mentioned the ransom thing. Sure, there were definitely cartels that kidnapped people for ransom, but Carillo wasn’t part of that business. He’d become a multimillionaire on cocaine. The fuck was he gonna do with ransom money? It was pocket change in comparison, unless some high-profile person’s kid was kidnapped for a ransom of millions of dollars. In which case, it would be all over the news.
The kidnapping of Shay, Marisa, and Blake was only hot shit in California and the nearby border states.
“I wanna know how to get in touch with Carillo Mesa,” I said.
“You don’t get in touch with him!” Delgado yelled. Safe to say, he’d lost the last shred of his patience. “He gets in touch with you!”
I remained calm. Getting him heated was actually good. When emotions got involved, façades slipped.
“But I bet you have a way of letting him know when you need to be contacted,” I told him.
He huff-groaned in frustration and slumped back against the wall, and he stared up at the ceiling. Every now and then, he winced. He had to be in pain. He’d been sitting in that position the whole day.
“I can’t fucking believe this,” he said, seemingly to himself. “Four goddamn years, and I’m snatched up by a Greta follower.”
I’d laugh if I weren’t busy wondering what the hell he meant by four years. Four years of what?
Before I could ask, he met my stare again.
“How did you find me?” he demanded.
I lifted my brows. “Dude, you’re in no position to demand answers.”
As reassuring as it was to have him act so superior—because it spoke volumes of what a nonissue he believed I was—I risked losing him this way. If he got too cocky, he’d stop providing clues and details.
So I decided to say more. “I have my intel. You have yours. I know you’re sitting on a mountain of information about that—” I waved a hand, pretending I didn’t remember the name of the cartel. “The Blanco cartel, or whatever it’s called. You’re, like, a high-ranking member or something.”
Act dumb and give away the right amount of “I know you have answers,” while also slinging a whole lot of “I’m way out of my league here.”
“Your sources are wrong,” he told me.
“I don’t think so. They’re really good.” I got to my feet and brought the skillet and the OJ back to the kitchen. He could use a moment alone to think.
I squeezed in one more dip in the lake before the sun went down. I’d only packed a small hand towel, so I had to use that to dry off before I stepped into my boxer briefs. Then I headed inside again and lit a few candles in the kitchen and the living room.