Page 59 of Ravaged Hearts
Sergio entered my room and hooked his thumbs under his belt. “El patrón ya regresó. Dijo que bajaras para la comida.”The boss is back. He says you’re to come down for dinner.
I couldn’t really complain about my treatment so far. Food had been brought to my room three times a day, and I’d beengiven a bunch of Gabriela’s pretty dresses from before she was pregnant.
Whenever I could, I met with Jorge’s wife on our respective balconies and talked. She detailed everything she could about the compound—what she knew of the layout, the underground tunnels, guard movements, and secret passageways. Disturbingly, there was one of the latter between Jorge’s room and mine, but despite combing the adjoining wall in my closet for a concealed door, I’d been unable to find it. Perhaps it only opened from the other side.
Gabi and I also spoke about our lives. I learned she’d been close to her family and missed them terribly. She told me how as a young girl, she’d loved sports and dancing, and that her childhood bedroom had been filled with dolls made lovingly by her abuela. She’d shared her teenage dream of becoming a travel agent in Guadalajara even though she’d never left Mexico.
Hearing what a vibrant, carefree girl she’d been before Jorge had forced her into this sham of a marriage hurt my heart and only made me more determined to make sure she got out of here alive.
I tugged at the mid-thigh hem of the stretchy rib-knit dress I wore and followed Sergio down the stairs to the central courtyard. The sun had almost set, casting the sky in a warm glow. Recessed lights in the terra-cotta paving guided the path to a large dining table beside the swimming pool.
Halfway down the table, Gabi offered me a tight-lipped smile before dropping her gaze. At the far end, Carlos sat stoic, his wilting body present, but his mind seemingly somewhere else. And at the head of the table sat Jorge, his eyes like needles in my skin as he watched me approach. He wore a smirk sinister enough to make the devil himself curious what evil thoughts circled this twisted bastard’s mind.
“Here she is. The prodigal daughter.” Jorge gestured to the seat on his right, the one opposite Gabi. “Sit.”
Servers delivered our first course: a bowl of creamy corn soup. Carlos spooned it into his mouth robotically, and Gabi stirred hers while staring into the bowl.
“Isn’t it nice that we can share a family meal together?” Jorge said, then tasted the soup.
No one replied, but it didn’t appear to bother him. Jorge’s pleasant mood only made my skin prickle with unease. If he’d checked security footage, he would know Gabi and I had spent time together. Did he suspect that we were up to something?
“It’s good to be home after the troubles I’ve had to deal with.” Jorge sighed and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “Elena, would you like to know where I’ve been?”
“Not really.” Keeping my eyes on the spoon, I tried the soup. Tasty, but I’d lost my appetite.
Ignoring my comment, Jorge plowed ahead. “I had to meet with my men about a problem they’re having in a small fishing village in the south.”
I paused with the spoon halfway to my mouth, then realized my mistake and continued to swallow the mouthful. “Sucks to be boss.”
He had to be talking about Playa de la Palmera. I hadn’t expected Jorge’s men to involve him so soon. The regions preferred to handle their own issues lest they look inept to their superiors. Calling in support from the boss was a last resort.
“Sometimes.” The quick smile Jorge made didn’t reach his eyes. “It seems a grievance with some of the locals has gotten out of hand, and now the army has swarmed the village. It all started in a restaurant with a smart-mouthed waitress. Mid-twenties, curvy”—he tapped his cheek—“burn scars on her face.”
I could lie and act like I wasn’t the girl Jorge spoke of, butthere was no way he’d buy it. Besides, he’d find a way to confirm the truth soon enough. I had to think fast.
I placed the spoon in the bowl and prayed Jorge didn’t notice my shaking hand. Then I turned to face him. “I suppose I wasn’t completely honest about why I chose to come home now. One night at work, I got into some trouble with PCC thugs. I didn’t think they’d believe me if I told them who I really am. It wasn’t safe for me to stay in the village anymore, so I ran.”
He lowered his chin. “Four of my men were badly injured.”
“They were being dicks and got what they deserved.”
“But you didn’t act alone, did you? They said a man stepped in to help you. Big guy. Tattoos. Mean looking. Who is he?”
At Jorge’s description, Vaughn’s face filled my mind. Those espresso eyes, sharp cheekbones, and full lips. I could almost feel them moving against my mouth, firm yet pliant, as his stubble-coated jaw left its mark on my skin. And Vaughn’s hands, those strong, capable hands, pulling me closer, always closer, as if having our bodies pressed together weren’t near enough. I swore I could smell him. Cigarettes, leather, and something that was uniquely Vaughn.
God, I missed him.
It took all my strength to stop moisture from pooling in my eyes.
Vaughn was the last person I wanted on Jorge’s radar. If he started asking around, who knew what he’d find? Maybe he’d discover Vaughn’s link to la Mano Roja. Then what? All I knew was being associated with me only brought suffering and death. I needed to keep Vaughn out of this.
Maintaining a nonchalant expression, I shrugged. “I don’t know. Just some customer who got caught up in the situation when your men tried to intimidate me.”
“One against four?” Jorge cast me a dubious look before bracing his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers. “Butthat’s not all, is it? A few days ago, six of my experienced crew returned to the restaurant to confront you and the mystery man. They were never seen again.”
I lifted my chin. “Sounds like you need to train your men better.”
“And now, you are here, the army is protecting the village, and no one can tell me a thing about this man who is single-handedly making a mockery of my cartel. Something unusual is going on.”