Dirty Deeds(39)

“And Beatriz?”

“She was … it was on the news. She was beheaded. So was her husband. And my niece and …” I sucked in the air, trying not to cry, “nephew. Their bodies were burned. Their heads displayed in public.”

Derrin squeezed his arms around me tighter but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to.

When he finally spoke, though, his voice was a bit cracked. “Who is your brother? Who is he really? Is his name really Juan Bardem?”

“No,” I said. “His name is Javier Bernal.”

He immediately stiffened. I craned my neck to look at him. He was slack-jawed.

“You’ve heard of him, haven’t you? Of course, everyone here has.”

“Yes,” he said slowly. “I’ve heard of him.”

“So that’s the whole story. Violetta died in a bomb I think was meant for him. Beatriz and her family were tortured and killed and publicly shamed by Travis Raines, some sick fuck druglord who is now dead himself. Courtesy of my brother.”

Derrin was staring at me with the most rigid, unblinking eyes, like he couldn’t quite process this information. Wheels in his head were spinning.

I knew what was going to happen. He was going to take me to the beach. Then he was going to get the fuck out of there, leaving me to fend for myself. I was more trouble than I was worth. He was probably going to do that already, but telling him that my brother’s enemies were probably my enemies really cemented the deal.

I was pretty much a walking dead woman.

And I could barely walk at that





CHAPTER TEN


Derek





I felt like I’d been slugged in the face.

One sharp blow¸ blinding light and then a million little pieces all falling into place like nerves returning home.

Javier Bernal.

Out of all the drug lords I’d worked with over the years, I knew Javier the best. The only thing admirable about him was his tenacity. And his payment. He spared no expense on hiring the best.

I’d seen him rise up in the ranks of Travis Raines cartel, break off on his own cartel and then take over Travis’s in the end, like salmon coming back to spawn.

But Alana was wrong about one thing. It wasn’t Javier that killed Travis Raines. I was the one who the put the bullet in his head. It was a well-placed sniper shot from the roof that took him out, saved the life of Javier’s ex-lover, the con Ellie Watt, and put Javier in the driver’s seat.

For some sad, sick reason I felt compelled to share this information with Alana. I wanted her to know that the man who tortured her sister – and I did know all the grizzly details about that death – was killed by my own hands. I wanted her to know that I had helped.

But it was in the only way I had helped.

I had been hired to kill her and I didn’t.

Which cartel had done it?

I kept my mouth shut. I started the jetski up again and drove it to shore. I was wasting precious time trying to figure it all out here. I needed to get in our room and get us packed up and on the road in five minutes. That is, of course, if they hadn’t already discovered where we were staying. I looked up. No helicopters or small planes in the sky. Behind us there were no boats. Wherever the SUV was, it would be fighting traffic coming down highway 200. If they didn’t know, then we had time.

She was silent the rest of the way back to the beach. I felt a bit bad making her talk about it after everything we just went through – there was no way she’d be able to process that either so quickly, not a civilian like her.

Then again, she wasn’t quite like a civilian either.

I beached it and left it there to the amusement of a few beach bums. They could try and take it if they wanted but I’d taken my makeshift skeleton key with me. There were few things that thing couldn’t start.

We quickly hobbled past the pool and into the lobby. I made sure my gun was hidden, tucked away in the bandage against my abs but I knew I could whip it out at a moment’s notice if needed.

A moment’s notice would be if we were lucky. It’s usually less than that.

After I did a quick sweep of the area and not seeing anyone unusual, I led her over to the elevators, one hand firmly gripped around her arm, the other hand hovering above the hidden gun. I pressed the button and then kept her off to the side when the doors opened.

They were empty.

Then I brought her inside and pressed the button for the 16th floor.

We stared at ourselves in the mirrors that lined the elevator. Both of us where soaking wet and though you couldn’t tell I had a gun on me, you could tell there was something funny going on underneath my shirt. Her hair was tangled all over face, dripping down her back, her dress was clinging to every curve. She might as well been naked. I hated the fact that I was so fucking turned on right now. That was the problem with this job. I was used to the guns, the chases, the violence. It didn’t damper anything for me. Sometimes the excitement only fueled desire, except I usually got off by shooting a different gun. She wasn’t used to it at all.