SANTIAGO
Ciara: Be safe and come back to me in one piece.
I grin at the message, then type a reply.
Santiago: If I get hurt, will you kiss it better?”
Ciara: Don’t even joke about it! But yes, I’ll kiss it better.
“The men are ready,” Pedro mutters. “Put away your phone.”
“Now you know how it feels when you sit and play that stupid game,” I say while turning the device off so it doesn’t distract me when shit’s going down.
Pedro starts the engine and drives up the road that leads to the hill where Javier Rojas’ house stands.
I left Ciara with Astrid after promising her I’d be home within twenty-four hours.
Checking the straps on my armored vest and the magazine of my submachine gun, I suck in a deep breath.
“I’m getting too old for this shit.”
“No, you’re not,” Pedro replies. “It’s just hits different when you have someone waiting at home for you.”
When we’re a few yards away, he stops the SUV, and we climb out just as Eladio and Miguel launch the SM-2 missiles from their truck.
I’m letting the two men hang back today.
The explosions send a blast of energy through the air, then all my men move in on the mansion.
Stepping over rubble, my heartbeat is steady until the first cartel soldier points his gun at us from where he’s hiding behind what’s left of the security booth.
I open fire, riddling the structure with bullets before sticking close to Pedro, who’s slightly ahead of me.
Every one of my senses is on high alert, and I’m aware of my men moving across the property as gunfire is exchanged.
We’ve carried out so many attacks we can do this shit blindfolded, but today’s hit is the motherload. If I can get my hands on Javier, it will set the cartel back and give us a few months of peace while they scramble to rebuild.
That’s if someone else takes over. After I killed the leader of the Mendoza cartel, the survivors scattered.
Pedro and I open fire on three men as we near the gaping hole in the side of the mansion where smoke is billowing into the air.
Pedro hits one of the soldiers in his leg, and as he goes down, another bullet slams into his chest.
As I take down the other two, Pedro staggers back. “Fuck.” His breaths turn heavy from the pain of a bullet hitting his vest and I kill the fucker who shot at him.
I move forward, taking the lead while asking, “You okay?”
“Yeah. Keep going.”
“I’m in,” Samuel’s voice sounds up via the earpieces we’re all wearing.
“We’re coming in through the hole in the wall,” Pedro replies as we climb over the debris.
“The front door would’ve been so much easier,” Samuel chuckles.
The sound of gunfire increases suddenly, before it dies down completely. Silence falls heavy around us, and my eyes scan over every possible hiding place as we walk through what’s left of the dining room.
As we step into a hallway, Pedro pats my shoulder and indicates we should go left. We creep toward whatever’s at the end of the hallway, hearing sporadic gunfire somewhere in the house.
When we reach an open space where a lounge is situated with open sliding doors that lead to a patio, I feel Pedro’s hand on my shoulder. He’s ready to yank me out of harm’s way, the barrel of his gun visible in my peripheral vision.
We keep moving forward, then a fucker jumps up from behind a couch and makes a run for the open doors.
I open fire, the spray of bullets following him until three hit his back.
As I glance over the room again, another man pops up from behind the other couch, taking aim at Pedro. I pull the trigger as I shove Pedro to the side, and the bullet meant for his head slams into my upper arm.
Pain rips through the muscle, and I clench my jaw.
And then my second-in-command loses his everloving fucking mind, and he empties the magazine in the fucker who shot me.
I glance down at my arm, thinking Ciara’s not going to be happy.
Letting out a sigh, I wait for Pedro as he kicks the really, really fucking dead body, and when he stalks to me with rage tightening his features, I brace myself.
“You do not get in my fucking way and take a bullet for me!” he shouts right in my face. “Look at your fucking arm.” He takes the empty magazine out of his gun and slams another one in. “Jesus Christ, Santiago!” He rips my sleeve clean off and wraps it tightly around my arm to stop the bleeding, not being careful at all.
“It’s just my arm,” I mutter when he’s done and continue walking toward the other side of the lounge.
“Fucking fuck,” he spits right behind me, running out of words to say.
“I’ll let you remove the bullet,” I chuckle.
“What bullet?” Samuel asks just as he comes in from the other entrance to the lounge, almost giving poor Pedro a heart attack. “And by the way, I heard the two of you all the way down the hallway.”
“Santiago got shot,” Pedro snaps, giving me a glare that tells me he’s going to be pissed off for days.
“Where?” Samuel’s eyes flick over my body before latching onto my arm.
Pressing my finger to my ear, I ask, “Does anyone have eyes on Javier Rojas?”
One by one, I get a no from my men. We all stand around like lost fucking farts, when Samuel says, “That’s a trapdoor.”
The moment I take a step toward it, Pedro glares at me, and I wait for him and Samuel to open the door and check whether it’s safe.
“It’s a tunnel,” Samuel says before he lowers his body into it, and this time I’m allowed to fucking move so Pedro can have my back while I climb down into the tight space.
“Yeah, not my favorite thing today,” I mutter as I follow after Samuel with Pedro bringing up the rear.
The air is filled with dirt, and the only thing keeping the tunnel from collapsing is weak-as-fuck looking wooden planks.
Samuel begins to jog, and we all pick up our pace. The tunnel feels like it’s going on forever when it suddenly ends, and we have to go up.
“Be careful,” I warn Samuel as he climbs the untrustworthy ladder and shoves open the trapdoor.
I stare at him as he glances around, and then he moves quickly, climbing out and disappearing from my sight. When I hear a gunshot, I climb the stepladder fast and haul my ass into a dry area covered with sand and rocks.
Seeing Samuel going after a man, I break out into a run. Samuel tackles the fucker off his feet and they roll in the dirt before the other man ends up on top.
I drop the machine gun, and grabbing my handgun from behind my back, I take aim and the instant the fucker points his gun at Samuel’s face, I pull the trigger twice.
The bullets slam into him, and he falls to the side. Samuel moves quickly, disarming the man as I catch up to them.
Seeing that I shot Javier Rojas, a grin spreads over my face.
Pedro comes up behind me, holding both our machine guns.
I wag my eyebrows at him. “How’s that for good aim?”
“Shut up,” my second-in-command mutters. “I’m still fucking angry with you.”
I turn my attention back to Javier and crouch beside him where he’s gasping for air. “Ouch. A bullet to the lung must hurt like a bitch.” He makes a gargling sound, his eyes wide on me. “Such a pity you don’t get to choose a card. I would’ve liked to see what fate had in store for you.”
He lifts his hand, and gripping hold of my armored vest, his eyes widen even more. “Castro.”
I smile at him. “The one and only.” My expression grows serious. “You kept me busy for quite a while, but it’s time for a vacation.” I press the barrel of my gun to his forehead, and keeping my eyes locked with his, I pull the trigger. His hand goes limp, falling away from me, and his eyes turn glassy.
I continue to stare at the man who’s been responsible for thousands of deaths, the moment feeling kind of anti-climactic.
CIARA
I’m sitting out on the veranda, staring up at the stars when I hear Pedro snap, “The shower can fucking wait. Getting rid of the blood isn’t going to make the shock any less for Ciara. I hope she kicks your fucking ass.”
Darting up from Santiago’s favorite armchair, I hurry into the house, and when I see the blood, my body goes ice cold.
“Mi amor,” Santiago says, quickly rushing toward me. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”
My lips part when I see the gunshot wound, and I cry, “You got shot!”
He grins at me. “You should see the other guy. Pedro kicked his ass.”
“You got shot,” I repeat the words, and then I grab hold of his good arm and pull him to the living room. I shove him onto a couch, and look at Pedro, “Get Dr. Pires! Why did you bring him here? He should be at the clinic.”
Pedro throws his arms into the air. “That’s what I told him, but he wanted to see you.”
Santiago keeps grinning, and I snap at him, “Wipe that grin off your face! This isn’t funny.”
“He’s enjoying the fucking attention,” Pedro mutters.
The next second, Dr. Pires comes running into the villa with Samuel, and I let out a breath of relief, while gesturing at Santiago’s arm. “He got shot!”
Dr. Pires shakes her head at Santiago as she takes a seat beside him. Samuel pulls a glass coffee table closer so she can set her bag down on it.
“Seriously,” she says, shaking her head again. “This would be so much easier had you come to the clinic.”
With his eyes locked on me, he tells her, “I had somewhere more important to be.”
I sink down to my knees by his legs and reach for his left hand, linking my fingers with his.
Dr. Pires gives Santiago an injection that has him saying, “I hope that’s better than the shit Dr. Antonio uses.”
“Of course,” she chuckles. “Only the best for you. It might make you drowsy, though.”
“That’s okay. Pedro can carry my ass to bed.”
“In your fucking dreams,” Pedro grumbles. He walks to a cabinet where there are various bottles of alcohol, and he pours amber liquid into a glass.
I watch as he downs the drink before I turn my attention back to Santiago’s arm that Dr. Pires is cleaning so she can see the wound.
“Eyes on me, mi sol,” Santiago says, and my eyes snap to him. He pulls his hand from mine and cups my cheeks.
“Hold still,” Dr. Pires mumbles.
The moment my gaze begins to move to his arm, Santiago says, “No. Eyes stay on mine. You don’t need to see that.”
I glare at him. “Then you should’ve gone to the clinic.”
The grin returns to his face, but only for a second before his features tighten. I dart up, and kneeling beside him on the couch, I wrap my arms around his head and press his face to my chest.
He lifts his hand and grips hold of my forearm while Dr. Pires digs around inside his arm.
Oh God.
I hold him tighter and tighter as she keeps digging, and when she finally pulls the bullet out, relief pours through me.
Santiago’s chuckle and words are muffled as he says, “I need to breathe.”
I quickly let go of him, but he keeps hold of my arm. He leans his head against the back of the couch and just stares at me.
When Dr. Pires is done stitching the wound and applying a bandage, she says, “Keep the arm dry until I check the wound again.”
I nod. “Okay.”
She takes a box of medication out of her bag and says, “Take two for pain when needed.”
“I don’t need them,” Santiago says, but I reach past him and take the box from her.
Samuel cleans everything while Dr. Pires gets up from the couch. “I expect to see you at the clinic, like everyone else in this village.”
“When?” I ask.
“Tomorrow morning at ten.”
“I’ll make sure he’s there,” I assure her.
“Thanks, Doc,” Santiago says while he climbs to his feet. “Let’s call it a night, guys.”
Samuel leaves with Dr. Pires, but when Pedro walks toward the front door, Santiago says, “Pedro.” He waits for his second-in-command to look at him. “I’ll always take a bullet for you. It’s my job to protect you, too, because I can’t lose you.”
The anger eases from Pedro’s face. “How about we just don’t get shot?”
Santiago smiles at him. “Sounds good.”
Pedro leaves, pulling the door shut behind him, so I grab hold of Santiago’s hand and drag him to our bedroom.
“I just want to shower, mi amor.”
I let go of his hand, and going into the bathroom, I switch on the faucets before I turn around and undo the buttons of his shirt.
“Are you angry with me?” he asks, his tone worried.
My gaze lifts to his. “No, but I’m not happy either.” I carefully push the fabric off his shoulders. I take off his pants and boots, and once I have him naked, I say, “Get in the shower.”
I quickly take off my own clothes while Santiago steps beneath the spray, then I join him. I wash his body, and every drop of blood that blends with the water is a blow to my heart.
I could’ve lost him today.
My chin quivers, and of course, the man notices. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me to his chest, and I mutter, “Don’t get the bandage wet.”
“Fuck the bandage.”
I tilt my head back, and our eyes connect. “I can’t lose you.” A tear escapes, rolling down my cheek. “There’s no me without you.”
He brings his hands to my cheeks, his expression dead serious as he says, “You won’t lose me.” He leans down and presses a kiss to my trembling lips. “I’ve been doing this for over twenty years, and today was the first time I got shot.”
“Just be more careful. Please.”
Santiago nods. “I promise. Okay?” When I nod, he asks, “So we’re good?”
“Yes.”
When he lowers his head again, I push up on my toes, kissing him with every ounce of love I feel for him.
