Page 25 of Hostile Heir

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I quickly pick out a black shirt from his collection, cinch my waist with a silk necktie and roll on a pair of socks before sliding into my boots. Taking a deep breath, I venture out of the master suite and onto the gallery landing. It’s nothing like the plantation hidden in the wilderness where I was trapped the first time Tomás and I met. I pause at the top step, set my hand on the glass railing and listen. The voices are muffled, contained in another room downstairs.

They’ll be too busy plotting destruction to notice me slip out into the daylight. The stairs sweep downwards in a wide corkscrew, passing under an artsy, obsidian crystal light fixture.

Two story windows frame hefty transparent doors that lead to a majestic infinity pool. Light gleams over the Spanish marble floor, flooding in from outside. Such a contrast to his sunless countenance.

On the right, housed between two potted palms and a thick border of glass, is the front door—the escape route.

“Can I help you with something?” A female voice startles my reconnaissance. “Tomás told me you’ve already eaten. Perhaps a coffee?”

I twirl around to meet the softest shade of brown eyes belonging to a slim sixty-something-year-old lady. Her quaint accent tells me she’s not from here. It’s more of a Mexican twang than the familiar melody I hear in Colombia.

A tight braid of thin gray hair snakes her shoulder with wisps framing aged features. She smiles with motherly wholesomeness.

“Uh... no thank you.” I brush a fingertip over my lip in thought. “I was hoping to go for a walk.”

She wanders toward the kitchen, looking back over her shoulder at me. “There’s only open roads and no shops for miles. It’s dangerous out there,niña.”

I can’t help wondering if she knows Tomás threatened me and understands he’ll ruin my life if I disappear. That’s if he could find me, and today, it's a risk I’m willing to take.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything. Anything at all.”

She smooths the black material at either side of her hips. One hand works at full capacity, while the other is almost rigid with arthritic nodules on the joints.

“He’ll be busy for the next few hours. The veranda is a beautiful spot to relax if you’d like a morning coffee. You only have to ask.”

With a tight smile, she disappears into the connecting kitchen. I blow out a breath and decide not to follow her. To the left there’s a corridor with gleaming floor tiles. I’m almost certain it leads to Tomás and his crew. I can hear hushed murmurs travel through the quietness and decide to follow the sound. With every step, I do my best to tread carefully, sneaking past several doors that are all closed, except for one at the very end of the long, wide hallway.

When I finally reach the last door, I press my palm to the white lacquered wood and listen. My chest tightens, instinctively recognizing his voice. That profoundly husky tone and authoritative bass makes my skin flame without effort.

“No one slaughters my father in the street without epic repercussions. Get into the heads of every motherfucker in Colombia. Rattle cages. Poke the snake pits. Kill anyone who fights back or shows signs of turning on us.” I shiver at the cruelty he projects. “We have unlimited resources to rip the heads off any cunt who thinks that move was a checkmate. This is war, men.”

“I heard there was a woman in the alleyway.” One man speaks up. “What have you done with her?”

There’s a moment of silence and then Tomás speaks again. “I have that situation under control. Don’t worry about her.”

“Is she here, Tommy? The last thing we need is a tight-assed assassin taking out another leader.”

Tomás laughs, but his sharp response snaps every syllable. “Trust me. I’m all over it.”

Collective chuckles spark my anger. “All over her, more like it.”

There’s a loud thump as if someone hits the deck like a bag of shit and then Tomás commands the room with a controlled bark.

“Have I got your attention, Tony? You’re here to talk over tactics for the most important mission of your career. I need a team running the day-to-day business and a second team to remind the smaller cartels exactly who’s at the top of the food chain. You’re my best guys, so don’t fucking disappointment me. There are zero distractions for all of us. Understood.”

I reverse away from the door, almost tripping over my own feet to hurry back along the hallway. That’s my cue to leave. The housekeeper doesn’t reappear, and the two dogs are nowhere in sight. My heart pounds, caught in fight or flight. While everyone in the house is distracted, this is my only opportunity to run.

By the tropical plants manning the front door, a glass bowl the color of the ocean sits on a glass console table. Inside are three sets of car fobs. It couldn’t be that easy, could it?

I peer over my shoulder to the kitchen and catch a glimpse of the old woman loading the dishwasher, one plate at a time. It’s now or never. I take the door handle and twist, but it won’t budge. From the corner of my eye, I spot a black button on the wall and decide to push it. A mechanical click sounds and I try again, opening the door and stepping out into the break of day.

A nomadic breeze reminds me we’re at a higher altitude than the city. I clutch the fob and its keyring in my sweaty palm and check out the emblem—Audi.

Following the flagstone pathway hedged by a network of bushy foliage, I jog to the front of the property and meet a collection of swanky vehicles. I’m guessing a few belong to the guests indoors, and one of them must belong to Tomás. I press the fob and hear locks click near the high steel gate. A graphite black A8 with a sleek hood, just like its owner, is parked facing the exit.

I weave around the other cars, quickly open the door, and dare a peek behind me to check I’m in the clear. Brutus stands by the path, nose to the air, and eyes fixed on my speedy getaway.

In the silence of a mountain hideaway, I sink into sporty leather upholstery and notice a rolled-up wad of paper money in the cup holder. The interior smells as if it had arrived straight from the manufacturer, so incredibly fresh that I’d argue it’s never been driven.


Tags: Autumn Archer Romance