Page 27 of Scarred Souls
The ornery redhead raised her shotgun with a speed that defied her age and whatever ailment hampered her mobility. “Leave. Now!” she growled.
I kept my eyes trained on Elena. “Not going anywhere.”
I didn’t back away. Didn’t even raise my hands. Elena took a swift step backward and wrapped her arms around her stomach as if the heat of the morning sun offered no warmth at all. Her rapidly paling face made me think she’d vomit any second now.
The doc came closer, putting herself between Elena and me while keeping the shotgun pointed square at my head. “You’re not taking her. You hear me? Now go.”
“If I wanted to take her, she’d be gone already, and there’s nothing you could do about it.” In the next heartbeat, I stepped toward the redhead and deflected the barrel of the shotgun. It went off over my shoulder, leaving my ears ringing. I snatched the weapon from her grip, cleared the remaining shell from the chamber, then tossed the gun aside.
Daphne staggered back, likely stunned by how quickly I’d disarmed her and probably more shocked that I hadn’t turned the shotgun on her.
“See?” I glared at the doc. “I could’ve been real nasty about that if I’d wanted. And just so you know how lucky you are, no one—and I mean absolutely no one—has pointed a loaded weapon in my face and lived to tell the tale.” I took a steadying breath to try to cool my temper.
The two women stared at me like they were more horrified of me now, which I thought was rude and unjustified. Hadn’t I just spared Daphne’s life?
The way Elena shifted on her feet made me uneasy. She looked as flighty as a doe at dusk. Did they have a backup plan for a situation where Elena was found? Maybe they were deciding if they should enact it.
“Don’t even think about running, Elena. I’ll catch you, and you know it.” Although that would make things so much more fun for the predator in me.
She gritted her teeth. “Don’t call me that.”
“Why shouldn’t I? It’s your name, isn’t it?”
For a moment, I thought she’d try to deny her identity, but then a look of reluctant acceptance crossed her features.
“I’m not her anymore, and I never want to be again. I’m Hope to anyone that matters to me. Got it?”
“If you say so. Tell me where to find your father.”
She had the audacity to look appalled. “I don’t know where he is.”
“That’s convenient. When were you last in contact with him?”
“It’s been years. He thinks I’m dead. Everyone does. Daphne’s the only one who knows the truth.”
“Which truth is that? That you’re a pampered cartel princess or that you’re engaged to the only person on the planet more evil than your father?”
“Fuck you,” she spat.
“No thanks. I don’t stick my dick in narco filth.”
Elena recoiled like I’d slapped her, and the hurt look on her face almost made me regret my words.
“Yes, I’m Carlos Espinoza’s daughter. I can’t change that. And I never wanted to marry Jorge. Not for one second. You think I’d choose to spend my life with that…that abomination?”
A shiver shook Hope’s spine, and her face twisted as though she smelled something putrid. Either she was a darn good actress, or the mention of Jorge Ortega truly disgusted her.
Interesting.
“I have no love for my father or Jorge. I hate them.” Her voice cracked as she struggled to maintain composure. “I despise everything they stand for. And while they’re alive, I can’t be free. Every day, I live in fear they’ll find me and drag me back into their hell.”
I folded my arms. “That was a pretty speech, Gatita. Been practicing it?”
Her chest heaved with frustration. “If Jorge and my father were standing before me, I’d take that shotgun and finish them myself.”
“Given your DNA, I’d believe it.”
She curled her lip. “Go to hell.”