Esteban chuckles, not at all intimidated. “Fine, fine. Maybe I’ll give her to my boys instead and give your darling wife a visit. Darlene, right? You have her stashed away in San Antonio.”
I’m close enough to see the vein at Heath’s temple pulse. It’s rare to see him so furious, his eyes bulging, teeth bared. This is bad. We’re losing control of the situation. Maybe we’ve already lost.
“You leave my wife out of this, you sick fuck—”
“Heath, no!” I shout, but it’s too late.
My brother lunges forward, incensed and ready to kill. Before he can lay hands on Esteban, a gunshot rings out. Heath goes down, plummeting face first into the dirt as he clutches his knee with a violent shout of pain. Someone’s shot him through the kneecap, blood spilling onto his palms.
When I look up, I see Arturo standing at the front door, smoking gun in hand. He points the gun at Anna next.
“Stop!” I roar. “Just fucking stop. What do you want? Whatever it is, I’ll give it to you. Just let my daughter and my brothers go.”
Esteban clicks his tongue, looking me up and down like I’m nothing more than a maggot beneath his shoes. He appears awfully cocky for a man who we had on the run for weeks. Now that everything’s tipped in his favor, his overbearing confidence and pride is almost sickening.
“How about we go inside?” Esteban says, though I know it’s not really an ask. “I think it’s time we negotiate.”
Chapter 35
Zane
We’re fucked.
My brothers and I are manhandled into uncomfortable wooden chairs, our wrists bound together roughly with layer upon layer of duct tape, our ankles strapped to the legs of our seats. I’m not sure when they got around to sitting us upright—before or after they beat us black and blue—but I suppose it doesn’t really matter. The point is that Esteban and Arturo’s men have no problem breaking us, and we’re in no position to fight back. I should have known from the get-go they weren’t going to fight fair.
I think one of my ribs is fractured, and the taste of iron on my tongue confirms I’ve split my lip. Maybe even cracked a tooth. Esteban laughs maniacally as he nails me with yet another sharp right hook, the crack of his knuckles against my jaw louder than any explosion known to man. Despite the pain rattling through my bones, I don’t give him the satisfaction of giving him a reaction. I take it—every hit, kick, slap, and scratch.
My brothers bear the worst of the beating. It’s clear Esteban and Arturo don’t care what happens to them. As long as I’m still alive and breathing, they couldn’t care less if they beat Knox and Heath to death. They only need one Phillips brother, and as the closest to the Marrones family, they’ve kept my torture relatively light.
They key word beingrelative.
“That’s enough,” Arturo barks.
He’s seated on the other side of the room next to Anna, who’s thankfully uninjured but still terrified. Arturo and Esteban seem perfectly content to take their rage out on my brothers and me, but I’m not complaining as long as they keep their hands off my daughter.
Arturo steps forward, cane snapping hard against the concrete floor. He comes within a foot of me, bending over to look me in the eye. It’s a miracle I can even see him considering how swollen my left one is. I’ll be sporting a nasty shiner tomorrow—if they allow me to live another day.
“Do you have any idea the headache you’ve caused me?” he asks, voice low and dripping with venom. “I let you into my home. I hire you to protect my daughter. And to find out you married her… I’ve never been more insulted.”
“I’d marry her again in a heartbeat, dickhead.”
Arturo cracks me on the side of the head with the handle of his cane. I swear to God I hear something fracture, but I’m not sure if it’s his cane or my skull. The room spins. Black encroaches on the edges of my vision. But no matter how much I ache, I keep my eyes ahead and refuse to waiver. I’ve endured worse—a lot worse. The cartel’s going to have to get creative if they want to intimidate me.
Anna screams around her cloth gag, but it’s impossible to tell what she’s saying. My poor daughter is scared to death, and I don’t blame her. It was never my intention for her to witness any of this. My goals have shifted from killing Arturo and Esteban to getting my family the hell out of here. The only question is how? The answer is surprising simple.
Give them what they want.
“Let my family go,” I say around my bloody teeth. “Let them go and I’ll… Whatever you want.”
Arturo scoffs. “I think we’re going to keep them, actually. For insurance.”
Esteban clicks his tongue. “It’s time this stupid squabble between our families comes to an end, hm? You’re going to finish the job for us.”
My heart slingshots into the pit of my stomach just to whip back up and lodge in my throat. “The fuck are you talking about?”
“Renata Marrones… She’s lived a good, long life, but I think it’s about damn time she considers retiring. Permanently.”
“You want me to kill her for you,” I grunt.