Chapter Six
Ryker
Groaning, I clutched the sides of my skull. Why did I think it was a good idea to drink last night? I opened, then immediately closed my eyes. What the hell? The morning sun streamed through the open window. The next time I had a date with a bottle of tequila I needed to remember to shut the fucking blinds.
Bang.
And put in some earplugs. I curled my pillow around my head to block out the sound and the sun.
Bang.
“Ryker, are you awake?” Ignacio shouted through the door.
I added taping a do not disturb sign on the door to my list of things to do next time I drank too much.
“I’ll be up in ten minutes. Leave me alone.”
The door flung opening, clattering against the wall. “You should’ve been up two hours ago,” Ignacio barked.
“Yeah. Yeah,” I grumbled. I swung my legs over the side of the bed. “What time is it anyway?”
“Almost nine o’clock in the morning.”
I whipped my head around. “Seriously?” Over ninety-six hours had passed. My stomach rebelled, both from the tequila and the thought of Juan Alvarez torturing Hattie while I drank myself into a forced slumber. God, I was a fucking prick.
He nodded without saying a word.
I scratched the side of my neck. “Why’d you let me sleep so long?”
“I didn’t realize you were still sleeping until twenty minutes ago.”
I braced my head in my hands. It throbbed like a motherfucker. I drank one too many shots of bad tequila last night. I wasn’t my finest moment, but I needed to do something to stop the regrets and guilt from circling in my brain like a bird of prey, waiting to devour me in a moment of weakness.
“How much time until the Americans get here?” I asked as I pulled yesterday’s black shirt over my head.
“They’re already here.”
“A half hour early,” I mumbled more to myself than him.
“Yeah, that’s what happens when you offer double the normal rate. They don’t want to piss you off.”
I yanked my jeans up my legs and fastened the button. “I’m ready. Let’s go.”
Ignacio’s dark eyes traveled the length of my body, and then he shook his head. “You look like hell.”
“I feel like hell,” I said as shoved my feet into my shoes. “But it’s nothing a cup of coffee won’t fix.”
“And you think it’s still a good idea to charge into an Alvarez stronghold tomorrow?”
“Tonight.”
“Emanuel said everything was going down tomorrow.”
“Yeah, well, I changed my mind.”
His nostrils flared as he sucked his lips into his mouth. “I don’t like it.”
“I don’t have a choice.”
He leaned against the doorjamb. “There’s always a choice.”
“No.” I shook my head. “There’s really not. I’m not going to leave Hattie there for a second longer than I have to.” Also, I didn’t fully trust Emanuel, so I’d misled him about my intentions for as long as possible.
Ignacio’s lips twisted like he’d sucked on a lemon. “Then try to stop yourself from drowning in a bottle of tequila again today. I don’t need a dead son. I need a son to help me with business. You need to hold up your side of the bargain. Acting like goddamn pussy won’t help Hattie or me.”
“Yeah, fuck you,” I mumbled as I brushed by him. I couldn’t argue with him. Not even a week after making this bargain with Ignacio and I was morphing into Rever—drinking too much, playing the victim card, and missing Hattie so much it felt like someone had taken a pickaxe and hollowed out my chest.
I missed her scent, her taste, her everything. I ached to touch her. Hold her. Kiss her. I used to believe she was my salvation. My home. My heart belonged to her. I’d tried to change my life and become a better person for her, but fate won. She couldn’t be my anything. I was a danger to her life and the life of my unborn child.
I wanted to bury my fist in the wall, but with my luck I’d break my hand, and then I wouldn’t be any help to Hattie. No, I needed to pull my head out of my ass. I didn’t have the luxury of taking my aggravation out on the wall or Ignacio. I needed to stay focused and ignore the bitter pang of regret bubbling like a noxious poison in my midsection. I wasn’t allowed to have feelings any longer. I couldn’t afford to have feelings. I was indebted to the Vargas Cartel for the rest of my miserable life. Soon enough, I’d turn into a soulless, drug running murderer. I might as well get used to the twisted emptiness now.
“Are the Americans in your office?” I asked, clenching my fists.