Dix: A Motorcycle Club Romance (Reckless Souls MC Book 7), page 14
Ace wraps his hands low around her waist and laughs. “You are damn good at it.” He gives her ass a swat, and she giggles before turning toward us.
“Oh. Good morning guys.” She flashes a smile and a wave before heading inside.
Ace’s expression morphs from lovesickness to seriousness in a heartbeat. “What’s up?”
“Wild Man knows where that fucker took Valentina, and I’m going to Colombia to get her.”
“Dix,” Ace groans, pinching the space between his eyebrows like I’m some sort of petulant child. “That’s not a good idea.”
My scowl deepens. “Why the fuck not? You would do no less for Kenna.”
He nods, not even bothering to deny it. “You’re right, but the difference here is that Valentina isn’t in danger.”
My chest tightens with anger. “You don’t know that. Arturo has enemies everywhere.”
“Okay, but we’re in business with her father, who is in a much better position to save her than we are. He has connections in Colombia, people who probably owe him favors. We don’t.”
I scoff at the idea of favors. “Favors like marrying his daughter to make his empire bigger? Those kinds of favors?”
Ace’s eyes narrow, and I can tell he’s frustrated. But I can’t stop thinking about Valentina, trapped in some unknown location with her twisted brother.
“Dix. We need to keep our enemies close. I need Rojas to believe we’re on his side. And you fucking his daughter has put a wrench in the whole thing.”
I scoff at his words. “Fuck you, man. If it wasn’t for me, he wouldn’t even know she’d been kidnapped by her own fucking brother.”
Ace’s face softens, and I can tell he’s trying to calm me down. “I know this is shitty, brother. Believe me, I know. But this is the best move forward for now. If that changes, we’ll come up with another plan.”
My mind races with possibilities, but I know deep down that Ace is right. We’re out of our depth here, and Emiliano is dangerous. But I can’t help but feel like I’m abandoning Valentina when she needs me most.
“Fine. Whatever.” I force the words out through gritted teeth and turn to walk away before I say something I’ll regret. But deep down, I know this isn’t over. Not by a long shot.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Valentina
I’ve been watching everything that goes on for nearly a week now, just to get a lay of the land. I’ve been playing nice, saying please and thank you to my jailers, and so far, it seems to be working.
Sicario Number One takes me on walks around the property, and I keep him off my scent by commenting on stupid shit like the pretty pink roses and just how vibrant green the grass is. Never mind that it makes me want to vomit. The point is my act works.
I now know the layout of the grounds, where they’ve positioned surveillance cameras, and the holes in security.
My brother is a fucking idiot.
Sicario Number Two is my inside man, only he doesn’t know it. He’s let me roam around the house—some. Well, as long as he’s at my side. Nevertheless, I’ve learned every fucking inch of this gorgeous villa.
I might appreciate it more if it wasn’t my prison. The place is a winding maze of staircases for the servants to wander sight unseen, and the wide hallways allow a lot of light to filter inside the rooms.
“Ya es hora,” Sicario Number Two growls almost apologetically at exactly twelve-thirty. It’s time for lunch, and the Sicario brothers get thirty-five minutes to eat, shit, and smoke, while I get to sit locked in my room, twiddling my fucking thumbs, and thinking about Dix.
Is he trying to find me? Has he given up on me? He probably assumes that I want to break up with him, and he’s already found someone else to warm his bed. I hope not, but even if that’s true, I have my own business back in America, and that business is revenge.
I turn to Sicario Number Two and fan my face. “It’s hot in here. Do you mind if I keep the balcony doors open?”
He looks around the room suspiciously, uneasiness with my request heavy on his shoulders. “That’s not a good idea.”
I laugh and kick out one leg, and then the other to show off my four-inch stilettos. “You really think I’m going to risk these shoes by jumping off the balcony? I’ll break my legs if I try, which makes your job a hell of a lot easier.”
I can see the moment he gives in. He glances down at his watch, seeing minutes of his lunch break pass by while he bullshits with me. “Okay. Fine. Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Of course not,” I assure him and fall on my bed, pretending to pout as he turns off the alarm on that particular door and stalks back across the room.
“Enjoy your lunch,” I say with a sweet smile.
His expression softens. “Gracias.”
When the door closes behind him, I set my timer for ninety seconds, my heart racing as I watch every second tick by. I have to wait to make sure no one comes back, and as soon as the timer hits zero, I kick off my shoes and change into a pair of form-fitting jeans and crisp black sneakers I’ve already worn twice to break them in for this very moment.
I pull a forest green t-shirt over my head and grab my leather duffel bag and then shove it out the balcony door. I grab my gym bag and ease out the bedroom door and down the hall to the unused guest room with the unlocked patio door that leads to a small set of stairs.
To the right, I can hear a group of men chatting on their cigarette break, and a tickle of a smile teases my lips because I’m sure Sicario Number Two put them up to it, having seen through my transparent request to open the door.
You’re good. You got this, I tell myself as I creep down the stairs, one at a time. I listen carefully to everything happening all around me.
But no alarms sound, and no one comes running, so I make it to the bottom of the cement stairs and suck in a deep, satisfying breath.
This is just the first step of my escape, but it feels like a big fucking step. I take a few more, and then a few more, until I’m about twenty feet from the long rows of trees and bushes that line the long driveway.
It’s a sunny day, but the overgrown shrubs and my dark attire provides just enough cover so that once I make it there, I’ll be even closer to freedom.
The protection of the trees feels like a sanctuary, and I allow a few seconds to catch my breath. Then I strap the bag across my chest before I break out into a full run, arms and legs pumping like I’m on the treadmill running from my life, my problems. Hell, my family.
I keep running, even though my lungs burn, and my muscles protect the exertion. I run until I find the small public access road only used by road workers and domestic staff, and the occasional cabbie.
My heart pounds so loud and so fast I barely hear the car that speeds up the road. I turn with a gasp and identify the little yellow hatchback as a taxi and shoot my arm straight up in the air.
I keep looking over my shoulder in search of sicarios or henchman or bodyguards chasing me down, but the coast is blessedly clear. When the cab comes to a stop, I jump in the back without hesitation.
“Where to, miss?”
I blink at the crisp English from the cab driver and narrow my gaze at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “You’re American?”
“Yep.” The man with a dark tan and white teeth nods. “Retired down here years ago. That gonna be a problem?”
“Not for me. Where are we, exactly?”
The cabbie frowns, but he covers it quickly.
“I was here visiting my boyfriend,” I rush to explain in an effort to throw him off my scent. “We got into a fight, and I got out of the car here, only I’m not exactly sure where here is.”
He shakes his head and grumbles about young kids these days. “Shouldn’t leave you out here alone. Never know who you could run into,” he mumbles. “Bogota is the nearest big city.”
Of course, Emiliano would take me someplace close to home where he has some influence. “Oh, okay. Perfect. Can you take me to El Dorado International?”
“The airport?”
“Yes, please. If you get me there as fast as you can, I’ll offer up a big fat tip.”
“Well, senorita, now you’re speaking my language.” He flashes a broad smile that’s almost friendly. “We’ll be there in about an hour,” he explains before turning his focus on the road. He weaves in and out of traffic, somehow avoiding the gridlock until he slams on the breaks just outside the airport. “We’re here, Miss.”
His gravelly voice breaks through my thoughts, and I blink up at the sight of the automatic sliding doors.
“Are you sure you’re all right?” he asks.
I nod and put on the biggest smile I can. “Sometimes a girl has to take a risk on a guy, and many times she is wrong,” I tell him. I pay my tab and offer him up a fifty percent tip. “If anyone asks, you’ve never seen me.”
“Seen who,” he says before tucking the bills in his Hawaiian-style shirt pocket, then takes off like he’s the one being chased.
I take one last look at the Colombia sun, give the pedestrian walkway another suspicious scan, and step inside the air-conditioned airport. I’m still not able to breathe easily despite now being free and clear of my captors or jailers, whatever the fuck they are. I give myself time to get my breathing under control before I approach the ticket counter.
The pretty brunette smiles at me and waits patiently for me to decide. “How can I help you today,” she asks in rapid-fire Spanish.
I know where I’m going, back to my man. To Dix. But I need to be careful. Just because I’m free and clear of that mansion doesn’t mean that I don’t have a tail, or worse, that they won’t track down the cabbie and extract information from him however they can.
“I’d like to book a ticket,” I tell her and shudder before the following words are out of my mouth. “A coach ticket,” I confirm.
“Destination?”
Los Angeles would make me an easy target for anyone paying attention, whether it’s my brother, the American cops, or anyone else.
I need to be the one thing no one expects a cartel princess to be. Smart. Reno would be unexpected, but I can blend in easier with the tourists in and out of Las Vegas. I scan the screen above and smile when I see a flight leaving in thirty minutes. “Round trip to Harry Reid International, thanks.”
“Passport?” she asks. I reach into my bag for my passport.
A kidnap victim with a secret passport? It’s the way this cartel princess rolls.
During my kidnap in California, I filched it from my green purse. Emiliano had looked away for a second, just before he hit me with the hypodermic needle. Enough time for me to tuck it into my jeans. Why? Go figure. At the time, I’d rather have grabbed the pepper spray, but such is life. I’m happy now to slide my passport onto the counter.
Twenty minutes later, I have my tickets, and I’m inching through the security checks. I can relax, at least a little, until the plane is in the air and taking me closer to my heart. My man.
I’m on my way, Dix.
My plan is simple. Land in Vegas and rent a car because, although my brother is a total fucking monster, he’s also the idiot who never noticed I also had stuffed my driver’s license and credit cards into my jeans. The only thing missing is my phone, so I’ll need to stop at a store to get one before I head west to California.
To Angel Harbor.
To Dix.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Dix
It’s been almost a month with no word from Valentina. Her fuckface father or his psychopathic son, Benedicto, haven’t given us any indication that they know where she is or if she’s safe.
But we keep moving their product and banking the cash.
It’s a safe bet they’ve purposely kept her in Colombia and away from me. But until I have confirmation, I refuse to give up. It’s not my style, and I don’t plan to start now when the woman I love could be in danger.
I’m so sleep-deprived from my late-night Valentina-rescuing that I can hardly focus on anything else. Every night since she left, I go out and crawl the streets in search of her brother, and though there have been a few false leads, nothing has fucking panned out. But what else can I do?
Ace still hasn’t given me the okay to fly to Colombia, and I’m literally fucking hours away from saying fuck it and flying down there anyway.
Consequences be damned.
“Man, you look like shit,” Shades says the next time we meet in the clubhouse. He drops down on the bar stool beside me with a beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. “Really fucking terrible.”
“Yeah, thanks for that, brother. I can rest easy now, knowing you don’t want to hop on this dick.” I tap my shot glass on the bar and flash a grin at Stella as she gives me a refill.
“I’m serious, man. You need to focus on taking care of yourself, and I’m sorry to say,” he sighs and claps me on the back in sympathy. “Maybe this means you just need to forget about her.”
I glare at him. “Your words might be more believable if you could fucking say her name,” I growl. I’m not going to forget Valentina.
“This is torturing you, man. It’s been nearly a month, and we haven’t heard a fucking peep. She’s probably fucking—”
“Don’t you dare fucking say it,” I growl, ready to pummel the face of one of my oldest friends in the world. “She’s not.”
I would know. I would feel it.
Shades holds both hands up. “Okay fine, I won’t say it. But we’re both thinking it. Hell, we’re all fucking thinking it, brother. It’s been too long. Just forget about her.”
“If it was Letty, would you forget?”
“No man, I wouldn’t. But Letty’s not a cartel princess.” His gaze bores into me with that assessing stare that makes me want to punch him in the face.
“So it’s like that, huh?”
I nod and take a pull of my beer.
“Fine, but you can’t go on like this. Put the goddamn beer away and get some fucking sleep. You really do look like shit.” His lips tug into a grin, but I do feel like shit, so I know he’s not just trying to piss me off.
“I’m tired and stressed,” I tell him with a half-smile. “What’s your excuse?”
“Pussy. All night long.” Shades pushes away from the table and smiles. “Get some sleep, asshole.” He turns away, practically running into Diesel, who’s wearing a hesitant smile on his face. “What’s up, probie?”
Diesel stands up tall and squares his shoulder before his gaze settles on me. “There’s someone at the shop who wants to see you.”
“Me?”
He nods and turns on his heels, walking away before I can ask any questions. But he’s piqued my curiosity, and my sweaty palms and racing heart tell me to get my ass to the shop right away.
I catch up to Diesel in the parking lot and pass him up in my rush to see who’s there to see me and why. I push inside and stop dead in my tracks at the sight of familiar blonde hair falling around equally familiar delicate shoulders.
The next few moments unravel in slow fucking motion. She turns and when our gazes collide, my feet move, closing the gap between us. I scoop her in my arms and taste her sweet mouth, all the anxiety of the past weeks evaporating like the morning fog.
“Valentina!” is all I can say. I hug her tight and spin us around, so goddamn giddy to see her that I can’t think straight. “How the fuck? When?”
She leans into me with a laugh, her arms tight around my waist before she pulls back with a blinding smile just for me.
“I thought I’d never see you again.” Her smile lights up the drab waiting room when my hands leave her waist and cup her face, stroke her hair, and slide down her body.
“I’m sorry, babe. I just really need to make sure this is you and not some fucking dream.”
God, the dreams I’ve had about holding her like this again, her expensive perfume curling into my nostrils and wrapping around my brain.
“It’s me, Dix.”
“Are you all right? Hurt? Injured?” She slaps a hand over my mouth to stop the barrage of questions.
“I’m not hurt, except maybe my pride,” she admits. “No one hurt me, I’m just shaken up. A little. Okay a lot. But I’m here now, and that’s all that matters,” she admits with a shy smile.
“It’s been nearly a fucking month, Val. I thought you were dead,” I tell her and pull her out of the repair shop and away from our nosy-assed audience.
As soon as the sun hits my skin, I pull her in close and fuse our lips together in an intense kiss that gets deeper and hotter until all I can do is just succumb to the power of our bodies bonding together again. “What happened?”
She clasps her hand with mine and presses a kiss over my knuckles. “Did you get my message?”
I nod. “I did. Been tryin’ to call you every day since you left.”
“Yeah, Emiliano broke the burner phone, and I’m not sure what happened to my other phone.” She shakes her head and stops a few feet from the clubhouse, taking both of my hands in hers and pressing them to her chest. “He drugged me, Dix. My own brother. And when I woke up, I was locked in a room in Colombia.”
My eyes widen in shock. “What the fuck? Did he hurt you?"
Valentina’s face falls. “No. Emiliano took me as leverage against you and my father.”
My jaw clenches. “That motherfucker. I knew it was him. I swear to god, I'll kill him.”
Valentina places a hand on my chest. “Dix, please. I just want to forget about it and move on.”
I take a deep breath and steel myself. “I’m sorry, honey. I just can't stand the thought of anyone hurting you.”
Valentina smiles softly. “I know, Dix. But I’m here now. Let’s forget everything else.”
I pull her into a tight embrace. “I’m so glad you're safe, Valentina. I missed you so damn much.”
