Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I should have been better prepared for this. I couldn’t voice what I’d done to her. Not to this man. Not to anyone. “You know what it is I do. She showed me I was wrong.”
“If you feel no need to…use her further, why is it so imperative to get her back? Why abandon your thirst for revenge?”
“Because Scarlett is all that matters.” Never had I spoken truer words.
Even Donovan seemed momentarily stunned by my confession. It passed. “Yes, my daughter is a rather unique creature.”
His words were sincere, but there was ice behind them. The man was either doing one hell of a job hiding his emotions, or he really was the cold bastard Scar had said he was.
“All right,” he said, pouring cream and sugar into the coffee in front of him. “I will help you locate my daughter, but when we’ve found her, you belong to me.”
I wasn’t surprised by the deal. I knew his involvement would come with a price. I could walk away and bet the cold prick would continue to look for his daughter, but there was no fucking way I was going to take that gamble. Given the cold shiver at the base of my spine, it felt imperative to draw out the details of this agreement though.
“When we have found Scarlett, and the men holding her are dead, then you can do with me what you want.”
“We have a deal.”
I put out my hand over the table first. In an agreement, in a handshake, never let the other man take the upper hand—Marcos had taught me that. Donovan’s handshake was firm, his skin warm, but it felt like the slimiest thing I’d ever touched.
“Don’t worry, Derek. I have no interest in killing you. You are a valuable asset, and I am never wasteful.”
That’s what I was afraid of. I wasn’t just selling my soul to get Scar back—assuming I still had one to sell. I was selling lives—men he would want me to kill, girls he would want me to train.
I had no choice. She’d hate me for the things I would have to do, but she would be alive, and she’d be safe. Perhaps that was my penance for the life I’d lived—to have to return to the things I’d abandoned and live with her hatred. I wouldn’t tell her why I was doing it though. I would never let her think it was because of her.
“Have you received any news?”
“Yes, in fact, I have. There was a contract activated two days ago to retrieve a missing product—a product that belongs to Marcos Caballero.”
It made me sick to listen to Donovan talk about her like a thing, but it was necessary—common lingo in the industry—to avoid incrimination.
“Who put out the contract?”
“It’s sketchy. It seems someone is going to a great deal of effort to remain anonymous. Strange though, that there’s been no word on the subject from the man himself, isn’t it?”
“Yes, very strange,” I agreed. It was clear he wasn’t expecting to hear any word on the subject from Marcos. Donovan knew he was dead. And more than likely, he’d put the pieces together and knew I’d killed him.
“Well, there’s no sense in worrying about that, is there?” Something in the tone of his voice had my attention. He was suppressing some emotion linked to Marcos’ death, but I couldn’t guess at which one.
“Shall we go?” he said before I could consider it further, and he rose to his feet. “A plane is waiting for us. While I don’t know who put out the contract yet, I do know it was initiated where you expected—somewhere in Sonora. We’ll fly there while my contacts keep looking. If you’d like, I’ll have your car transported there.”
I nodded, not because I couldn’t replace the fucking car, but because Scar had been in this car. As I strode out of the shop and toward the car to retrieve my bag, I could see her there, smiling at me from the passenger seat. Even when I got her back, she’d never sat there again. As soon as she was safe, I’d have to put as much distance between us as I could. I didn’t want her to see me return to the man I’d been.
“When we find her, you’ll tell her nothing about our agreement,” I added the amendment as I slammed the car door and slung the bag over my shoulder.
“Of course,” Donovan conceded graciously. Too graciously.
But it was done. When this was over, I could only hope that she hadn’t figured out what an evil fuck I really was. Because I needed to believe there would be someone out there who didn’t see me as the monster I would have to be. The monster I would always be.
5
Scarlett
Two days. I’d woken up in a stone-walled cell two days ago and hadn’t seen a single living soul. I knew it had been two days—at least since I’d woken up—because there was a window in this cell. It was too high up to reach and it wasn’t a normal window. There was no glass in it—evident by the wind and rain that had blown through it the night before. It was striped with thick bars though, and it reminded me of a window in an old dungeon. It was the only source of light. When the sun went down, the prison, or dungeon, or whatever it was, plunged into darkness.