Page 66 of Ravaged Hearts

I glanced around the room until my eyes landed on a tall, dark shadow by the curtains. Owen waved at me, and in a half-stupefied daze, I returned the gesture.

“Are you two crazy?” I reverted to whisper shouting, because Jesus, what the hell were they thinking, waltzing in here like the pair of them weren’t surrounded by the most lethal cartel in Mexico?

Vaughn ignored my outburst and asked, “Which room is your father in?”

“The target has changed.”

He frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Carlos is dying. He isn’t the one we need to worry about anymore. Jorge heads the cartel now.”

Vaughn allowed himself only a moment to process that information before saying, “Then tell me where to find Ortega.”

Terror gripped me, because the man he’d come to kill slept in the room next door. I’d tried to keep Vaughn and the team away from danger, but they’d tracked me to it anyway. And now that they were here, I doubted there was any chance of talking them out of their plans.

Vaughn held up one finger and touched another to his ear. He must be receiving a message through his earpiece. Thecrease in his brow made me think it wasn’t good news. He glanced at Owen before his eyes came back to mine. “We’ve got about four minutes to get this done. No more messing around, Hope. Where’s Ortega?”

I pointed toward his living quarters. “His suite is the next door along, but there’s a guard in the hallway.”

My man only grinned. “Not for long.”

“Jorge’s pregnant wife is in there, too. Be careful with her.”

He nodded and handed me a pistol. “Use this if you need to. I’ll come back for you. I promise.” Then he planted one final kiss on my lips, and he and Owen moved to the door.

After cracking it open an inch and peering through the gap, they swiftly made their way into the corridor.

Readying myself for a hasty departure, I slipped on the tennis shoes I’d arrived in but didn’t bother changing out of the nightgown. There might not be time, and I didn’t want to lay the pistol down if I didn’t have to.

A small noise came from Jorge’s suite. No. it was closer than that. It came from the walk-in closet that separated us. A flash of red silk caught my eye before I heard whimpering. It was Gabriela. She must’ve come through the secret passageway between our rooms.

She staggered toward me awkwardly. When her face twisted in pain, I rushed for her. “Gabi!”

But as she emerged from the closet, I froze, because she wasn’t alone. Jorge held her from behind with a pistol jammed against the side of her head.

I aimed my own weapon at Jorge, but with Gabi shielding him, I didn’t dare pull the trigger.

“Drop it,” Jorge said. When I didn’t immediately comply, he tightened his arm around Gabi’s throat and lifted.

She made no sound, but her eyes bulged. Frantically, Gabi scratched at his forearm. She fought with everything she had, body bucking and bare feet scrabbling for purchase.

Jorge wore a mask of cool composure. “She gets to breathe as soon as you lower the gun.”

Shit. I had no choice. Once I’d laid the pistol on the bed, Gabi gasped in a lungful of air and coughed. Jorge shoved her to the floor. There was a horrible crack as her hip landed hard on the tiles. She cried out and clutched her belly.

“No!” I ran to Gabi, but Jorge lunged for me.

He wrenched my arm so hard a scream tore from my lungs. Then he pulled me against him, my back to his chest.

The bedroom door flung open. Vaughn rushed in, rifle raised.

But he was too late. The cool muzzle of Jorge’s gun was already at my temple.

30

VAUGHN

It was quiet inside Ortega’s living quarters.