Lydia
We forced Cruz to sleep for a couple of hours while Levi, Cade, Piper and I went over the plans for the evening. Cruz and I were wired with high-tech listening devices that would allow the rest of the team to listen in and determine if we needed help.
We were not able to hear them, however. Levi explained that any regular comm device that would allow two-way communication would be difficult to hide and would immediately raise red flags to Dante’s goons if they were found.
The drive to Little Havana took longer than normal on a Friday evening in Miami. Cars lined the streets, brake lights lighting up the city in a glow of red, while the towering buildings glowed their yellowy hues. It was a concrete jungle with animals of all shapes and sizes.
The van stopped a block from Havana Nights, the gang hangout, where we were meeting Dante. Piper had run out to get some clothes that would fit me since I’d left in a tank top and yoga pants and didn’t have any other clothes at my disposal. She was several inches taller than me, so anything she owned wouldn’t fit. Not to mention her lithe, athletic figure was quite different from my round hips and thighs.
I wore a pair of black leggings that looked more like a pair of cigarette pants than workout attire, thank goodness, and a black top that exposed one shoulder. I wore a black camisole underneath since wearing a bra was still too painful against my abused skin.
I’d changed Cruz’s bandages and applied antibiotic cream over the wounds on his back before we’d left. The skin was broken and torn and an utter mess. He’d have bruises forever, but if the scarring on his chest and arms was anything like his back had been, then it wouldn’t change much for him. It was uncertain how his back tattoo would fare. The destroyed flesh might never heal properly to display its former images.
Cruz and I exited the van, ready to walk the two blocks to our destination. Piper placed a hand on my arm.
“Remember we can hear you, but you won’t be able to hear us. If you get into any trouble and need us to storm the place, your code word is sandwich.”
“Sandwich?”
“It’s not something you should be using in there, but is easy enough to slip into a conversation.”
“Ah, gotcha.”
Levi crossed his arms over his chest, standing with authority as he eyed Cruz warily. “How are you feeling?”
“Like a million bucks.”
“Seriously, man.”
“I’m fine. Sore? Yes. But I’m tolerating it. Four ibuprofen seems to have put a dent in the pain.”
Levi shifted, apparently accepting his assurance of health. “Okay, then. Havana Nights should be on the left-hand side of the road. There are three levels. The top floor is a brothel of sorts—a rent-by-the-hour kind of establishment; the bottom floor a nightclub. The middle floor is where the offices are, as well as personal living quarters for Dante. My guess is he’ll take you to the second floor and meet with you there.”
“Sounds about right. You ready?”
Cruz looked at me with grim determination in his eyes. I knew he didn’t want me in danger, but I’d proved that I wasn’t about to be pushed around. It was time to figure this mess out and get back to my life.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
With a quick jerk of his head, Cruz took my hand and turned towards Havana Nights. He walked quickly, which was a bit problematic for the four-inch heels I had on.
“Can you slow down?” I gasped the words as I jogged to keep up with his brisk pace.
He glanced down at my shoes and slowed his pace. “Sorry. I forgot you weren’t wearing sensible shoes for an op.”
“Well, to Dante this isn’t an op. It’s a meeting at a nightclub. I’d look out of place if I wore my combat boots, now, wouldn’t I?”
“You have combat boots?” Cruz’s eyebrows waggled in suggestion.
“Sure do.” I’d let that thought simmer for a few moments.
After a couple of minutes at a much more reasonable pace, we stopped in front of the bouncer carding people at the front door of Havana Nights. The guy looked us over, Cruz in his tight black T-shirt and faded jeans, and me in my spandex pants, tight black shirt and wide black belt. I’d curled my hair so it tumbled down my back in riotous waves, and I’d opted for a bright-red lipstick. I thought I looked pretty kick-ass, very reminiscent of Katherine Pierce, Elena Gilbert’s alter ego doppelganger in Vampire Diaries.
The bouncer held out his hand for our IDs, and Cruz gave them over without hesitation. When he handed them back, I snatched mine out of Cruz’s hand. The ID read Lana Gonzalez.
“How?”
Cruz accurately understood my question without further explanation. “Ryder.”
Damn, Ryder was some kind of genius and obviously really fast. The ID looked perfect. How had they accomplished that in a couple days’ time?
“He does have some serious skills.”
Cruz’s only response was a growl that made me giggle despite the very serious circumstances surrounding us.
The first floor of Havana Nights pumped and pulsed with sultry Latin music as bodies gyrated on the dance floor, hips undulating to the beats. The men were a sea of slick black hair and tight shirts, while the women wore dresses more fit for street walkers than clubbing. The overall effect made it hard to discern if you were watching dancing couples or outright sex acts for all to witness.
We reached the bar, a slick, shiny length of stainless steel with red neon lights that reflected off its surface. Cruz ordered us two tequilas with limes. The bartender put two shot glasses in front of us and filled them up with top-shelf tequila before slipping a lime onto each glass and passing over a salt shaker. Cruz raised his eyebrows, a dare if I ever saw one.
He licked the inside of his wrist, sprinkled the salt onto the wet skin, and lifted his shot glass, waiting. Waiting for me to reciprocate. It felt a little bizarre to be doing shots while we were trying to fish information out of a gang leader, one we’d yet to see in the crush of bodies, but I wasn’t known to back down from a challenge.
I took the salt shaker from his hand, my fingers brushing his. A jolt of electricity shot up my arm, but I met his gaze and slowly drew my tongue along the back of my wrist, my eyes never leaving his. A slow grin spread across his lips at my obvious attempt at seduction. I salted my wrist, then lifted my shot.
“To second chances.” Cruz tipped his shot glass to mine.
I paused, my glass held midair. Second chances? What did that mean? He must have seen the confusion on my face, because he leaned in close, his lips touching my ear.
“I’ve never forgotten you, Lydia. I know we have a lot to discuss and mountains to climb before I can earn your trust again, but I swear to you, I will earn it back if it’s the last thing I do.”
Cruz straightened, his glass still raised. I clinked my glass against his, tears swimming in my eyes at the obvious emotion I saw on his face. “To second chances.”
Cruz leaned in as if to kiss me, our lips drawing closer, his breath warm on my face. I’d been longing to know what it would feel like to kiss him again, and that brief moment in Chavez’s house didn’t count. Eleven years was a long time, and it was hard to believe I hadn’t blown it out of proportion in that time. Remembered it better than it actually was.
Our lips barely touched.
“Want another?” We jumped apart at the bartender’s interruption, apparently forgetting we were in a ruthless gangster’s club, being hunted by a sadistic drug lord hell-bent on revenge.
“Nah. All done. We’re here to see Dante.” Cruz dropped some bills on the bar as he stood, hoping the bartender would direct us to the right person.
The bartender scooped up the cash and pocketed it. “He expecting you?”
“Yeah. Where can I find him?”
“You’ll need to see Buster.”
“Buster? Really? That’s his name?”
The bartender shrugged. “No clue, but that’s what he goes by.”
“Fine. Where’s Buster?”
The bartender propped his arm on the bar top and leaned over, pointing to a door midway along the walls of the nightclub. “See that guy right there?” The man he was referring to was close to seven feet tall, probably weighed three hundred pounds, and looked to be solid muscle.
“How could I miss him?” Cruz smirked as he took my hand in his and led me in Buster’s direction.
“Thanks.” He threw the word over his shoulder to the barkeep as he created a path to Buster.
“He’s a big guy.” I squeezed Cruz’s hand, and he looked down at me, that brow quirking in the way I loved.
“You don’t think I can take him?”
“I think he could sit on you and win the fight.”
Cruz’s laughter was unexpected. “I forgot how funny you are, Lydia.”
The fun moment was cut short when we reached Buster, and he took two steps towards us. “What do you want?”
“We’ve got an appointment with Dante.”
“Oh, yeah? Funny, he didn’t mention you.”
“Well, we do.” Cruz stepped forward, his chest puffing out in the international sign of I’m about to kick your ass.
“What happened to your face?” Buster took another step closer, and I decided it was time to catch a bee with honey rather than vinegar.
I brushed my hand against Cruz’s arm and moved in front of him. “He’s expecting me. My name is Lydia Ayala.”
Buster raked his gaze from my shoes to my hair, lingering in spots I’d have preferred he skip over. “Yeah, he mentioned you. Didn’t say you were hot, though.”
I lifted a shoulder, trying for flirty. It wasn’t really my thing. “Funny, he didn’t mention you at all.” I turned the giant’s words back on him but added a smile and a wink to soften the blow.
Buster threw his head back in laughter, then stuck his hand out for me to shake. “You’re a real ball-buster, lady. I like that.”
“Thanks.”
“Follow me. I’ll lead you to Dante.”
I shot Cruz a gloating grin before following Buster up the stairs. Cruz leaned forward, his lips near my ear again. “What the hell was that?”
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance when really I wanted to do a fist pump and jump up and down like a cheerleader. “Just a little female magic.”
Cruz’s only response was a groan and a muttered, “I’m in deep trouble.” I held in the laughter threatening to bubble over. Yeah, Cruz. We both are.
We reached the second-floor landing that stopped at a door with a high-tech security feature barring any wanderers from getting inside. If you somehow got through Buster, there was no way you were breaking through the second barrier of fingerprint scans and passcode entries.
The door opened after Buster scanned his finger and put in his password, and we spilled out into a beautiful luxury apartment. The room had high ceilings with sleek, black leather couches, and a big-screen TV. A state-of-the-art sound system pumped out Bach at an almost deafening decibel level. An upscale kitchen with slate countertops sat at the back of the room, but in the center of it all was Dante himself.
I’d seen him before, when he’d brought his son into the clinic just a few weeks ago. That day seemed like a lifetime ago. Dante had been covered in his son’s blood, his white wife-beater tank top stained a crimson red. I’d barely noticed the man, my attention completely on his son Jax.
But the man who stood before me was not covered in blood, nor was he a harried father, terrified for his son’s life. Nope, the man who stood before me was darkly sexy in a Hugh Hefner style smoking jacket left open to reveal a well-chiseled torso covered in ink. His shaved head and long goatee added an air of danger, but nothing could take away from his high cheekbones and dark penetrating stare. Did I mention the abs? Yeah, they were pretty freaking hot.
I tried to say hello, but stumbled over my words.
“Hi—um, hello, um, Dante. How, uh, is, uh, Jax?”
Cruz nudged me with his elbow, but I swatted at his arm.
Dante’s grin spread slowly across his face. “Lydia Ayala. The woman who saved my son’s life.” He strode over to where we were standing and took my hand, kissing the back of my knuckles. “Please, have a seat.”
His voice was husky, with a slight Spanish accent that I’m sure would have a lesser woman panting at his feet.
“Thank you. And Jax?”
“He’s doing very well, thanks to you.”
Cruz stuck out his hand before he joined me on the couch. “Cruz. Nice to meet you.”
“You’re the fiancé?” It felt so weird hearing those words out loud. Cruz. My fiancé. At one point in our lives, I’d been sure that he would be my fiancé one day. Then he’d disappeared off to the military. I still wasn’t sure what had gone down. There had been rumors after he left, but I had withheld my judgment until I could hear it from Lorenzo’s mouth. Only, I never got the chance before he’d been declared dead. But he was with me now. Glowering at Dante in an obvious attempt to pee on his territory—me.
“I am.” Cruz’s voice, so different from Lorenzo’s from years ago—deeper, raspier, and warm like fine Kentucky bourbon—sent shivers down my spine. An image of Cruz kissing me, whispering all the things he’d like to do to me in my ear in that sexy voice of his flitted through my mind, and I could feel my cheeks heat.
I cleared my throat. “Yes, we’ve been together for about a month now.”
“Well, that explains why I’d never heard about him before.” Dante cocked his head as if trying to determine if we were lying or not. I had a feeling he knew that Cruz was not my fiancé, but I hoped he’d leave it alone. “What happened to your face?”
The question was clearly addressed to Cruz, but I hadn’t come there for a pissing contest. We needed information, and Dante was our best chance at getting it.
“He pissed me off, so I had to show him who was boss.” Dante’s gaze jerked back to me so quickly it was as if he’d been slapped. Then he laughed, just as sexy as his abs.
“I like you.” He nodded as if finally coming to a conclusion. “What can I do for you?”
I relaxed slightly, glad that the testosterone-fueled feud was over for the moment. “We need information about a group who call themselves Los Caballeros and their connection with Emilio Chavez.”
Dante stiffened, no longer making eye contact. “I’m afraid I know nothing about them.”
He was lying. I could tell he was lying—but how to get the information out of him? “Are you sure? I thought you knew about all gang activity happening in this city.”
“Los Caballeros aren’t a gang. They’re a group of religious zealots that operate entirely different from us.”
“So you do know about them?”
“I’ve heard their name before, but I can’t give you any more information.”
“Are you sure, Dante? We really need this information. It’s life-or-death.”
Dante lowered his head into his hands, clearly wrestling with something. Then he looked up, nervous eyes darting around the room. Finally, he saw something in the doorway to one of the rooms, and resolution filled his gaze. I turned, glancing over my shoulder at what had caught his attention. It was Jax, standing at what looked like a bedroom door, dressed in pajama pants and a T-shirt.
I met Dante’s eyes, seeing the fear in them that I’d missed before. I knew before he said anything what was going on. Someone had gotten to him, and they were using his son as leverage.
“Look, I’m sorry, Lydia. I know I owe you. You saved my son’s life. But you’ll understand if I’m unable to help you this time, for the very same reason.” His words were cryptic, but I’d already figured out the meaning behind it. Chavez had threatened Jax. There was nothing Dante could do.
“I understand.” I stood, pulling on Cruz’s hand to stand with me. His arm wrapped around my waist and drew me closer—whether to comfort me after the disappointing news, or because he was still staking his claim, I wasn’t sure. I was just glad for the support.
“Is there anything at all you can give us? Point us in the right direction?” Cruz persisted, and I crossed my fingers that Dante would give us a breadcrumb to follow.
Dante appeared to think for a moment, and then nodded. “A big deal is going down in Atlanta next week. Saturday night, to be exact. Chavez and Los Caballeros will be there. That’s all I know.”
“Do you know where?” Cruz asked, squeezing my hip. I assumed it was to keep me from blabbing what we knew so far.
“Chavez has several warehouses on the outskirts of Atlanta. I don’t know the exact locations, but they’re near his compound that burned down. I’m sorry. I wish I could be more help.”
“Thank you.” I stepped out of Cruz’s embrace and stuck my hand out to shake Dante’s. He took my hand and pulled me into a hug. He smelled delicious, like the ocean and a touch of coconut. His strong arms held me tight as his hand drew circles on my back. I thought I heard the low rumbling sound of a growl coming from Cruz, but I decided to ignore it.
“I’m sorry.” Dante’s words were only for me as he whispered in my ear. “It kills me that I’m unable to give you what you need. I’m doubly in your debt.”
I nodded, as Dante released me and shot Cruz a smirk. Then he squeezed my shoulders. “Anytime you want to join the life of crime, you come see me, okay?”
I laughed nervously, knowing that his invitation was to join him in his bed or on his arm, not in his employ. “I’ll do that.” The nervous laughter continued as I extricated myself from his hold and took Cruz’s hand again. He squeezed so tightly, I almost yelped in pain.
Cruz let up on the grip and led me to the stairs and out the security door. Buster stood at the bottom of the stairs as we raced by him.
“Come back anytime, mamacita!” I waved at him as Cruz navigated through the crowds.
“What. The. Hell. Was. That?” His voice was angry and loaded with recrimination.
“That was me getting information from someone.”
“It sounded more like an invitation into your pants to me.”
“Don’t be crude. I did what I had to do to get the intel.”
“You could at least pretend you didn’t enjoy it.”
Well, maybe I did. Dante was a handsome man. Can’t a girl enjoy the attention a little bit? I just smiled—nope, not going to feel guilty.
“He’s also a cold-blooded killer. You seem to be forgetting that.”
Details, details.
“Let’s get out of here.” Cruz stepped up the pace as we made it to the bar just steps away from the front door. Three men in black loaded for bear rushed inside. They saw us, and one of them shouted. Then the bullets started flying.
“Go! Go!” Cruz pushed me behind him, and we started running for the back door.
The thump-thump-thump of automated weapons overshadowed the sound of a merengue beat drifting from the speakers. We reached the middle of the room, when three more gunmen pushed inside from the back entrance.
The wood floor exploded near my feet, and I yelped, trying to find another way out.
“Sandwich! Sandwich! Sandwich!”
I screamed the word, feeling ridiculous, but grateful I had a way to communicate the peril we were in without coming up with a complete sentence to articulate the chaos erupting around us. Buster rushed over and grabbed my arm, pulling me towards Dante’s apartment.
“This way!” Cruz ran beside us as we raced up the stairs to Dante’s abode. When we crashed through the door, he was standing there calm and unaffected, a phone pressed to his ear.
“That wasn’t the deal! This is my home! My establishment! Call them off, now!” His voice was eerily calm. Deadly serious. Whoever had crossed him, there would be hell to pay.
“Through there.” Dante mouthed the words, pointing to a door on his right. Buster let me go, as Cruz pushed me forward.
“This wasn’t supposed to happen.” Dante’s voice called out after us as we entered a small closet, where a panel was opened up exposing an iron staircase that wound up to a hole in the ceiling.
Buster appeared at the door. “Go up, then climb out the window and down the fire escape. It’s the only other way out.”
Gunshots sounded at the door to the apartment, and I worried that Jax would be injured or killed, but then remembered I was dealing with Dante, a hardened gang leader. If anyone knew how to keep his family safe, it was him.
The small iron staircase wound around tightly and was difficult to maneuver quickly. When I reached the top there was a hatch. I pushed it open and climbed up. Then stuck my hand out for Cruz to shimmy through, helping him out of the cramped space.
Once he was out, I looked around. A woman dressed in skimpy lingerie sat on the bed, her knees pulled up to her chest. Her hair was a disheveled mess, and the room smelled like sex and cheap perfume.
Her eyes were wide with fear, but she had apparently been given instructions to point us in the right direction. She lifted her hand and pointed to the window.
“Thank you.” I gave her the only thing I could, respect and kindness. I smiled sadly, and waited for Cruz to pry the window open.
“Let’s go.”
We edged out onto the fire escape, the narrow pathway barely big enough for one person. “We’re coming out on the south side of the building. Meet us there!” he announced out loud, and I’d forgotten the team could hear us.
I climbed down the fire-escape steps as quickly as I could, careful not to look down. Heights and I were not the best of friends. All was well until I hit the ladder that lowered to the ground. We were still about twenty feet up. High enough to scare the bajeezus out of me.
Cruz bumped into me as he hit the final landing. “What’s wrong?”
I shook my head, fear claiming my words.
“Are you afraid of heights?”
I didn’t answer, just stared at the twenty feet separating me and freedom. Twenty feet that included shimmying down a decrepit ladder.
“I’ll go first. That way if you get scared, I can help you. Okay?”
When I didn’t answer, Cruz took me by the shoulders and shook me hard. “Look at me, Lydia. I’m right here. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Do you trust me?”
I nodded.
“Okay. That’s a start. Now, I’m going down first. You come right after, okay?”
I nodded again.
“That will have to do.” Cruz started towards the ladder, then turned back abruptly and slammed his mouth down on mine. The kiss was hot and fast and just what I needed to get my blood pumping again. He pulled away, grinning.
“Dante doesn’t get to do that.”
I laughed. We were in the midst of running for our lives, and Cruz was still competing with a man who wasn’t even competition. There had only ever been one man for me, and he was climbing down a ladder so he could catch me if I fell.
And I was definitely falling.
I closed my eyes and put one foot on the rung, then the other, and repeated the action until I was almost to the bottom.
A bullet pinged next to my head, and I screamed, letting go of the ladder and falling backwards. Cruz caught me in his arms. “Told ya.” Then he set my feet on the ground. “Run!”
We took off in the opposite direction of the gunfire, bullets pinging the ground near our feet. It wasn’t an automated weapon, or we’d both be Swiss cheese. When we reached the end of the alley, a dark figure stepped in front of us, his gun raised.
“Get down!” the man shouted, and Cruz pulled me down at the man’s feet.
It was then that I recognized Cade’s face and saw Levi, Oscar, and Ryder running behind him.
“Go!” Cade shouted, and Cruz pulled me up as we hightailed it to the van that was parked a few feet away. Piper sat at the driver’s seat, bouncing up and down and murmuring, “Come on, come on, come on!”
We piled into the van, and with the door still open, Piper punched the gas, squealing tires out of the parking lot.
Cruz pulled me against his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around me. “You’re okay. I’ve got you.”
His sweet words brought comfort—and that’s the moment I noticed my trembling hands and shuddering shoulders.
Well, what could I say?
It wasn’t every day a girl got shot at.