Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Yeah, I had a front row seat to that madness. Thanks for the reminder.”
Sitting on the floor, Tate reclined against the wall and lit a cigarette. During his captivity, the dynamic between Van and Liv had been the mindfuck of all mindfucks. Van’s temper was unpredictable, and more often than not, he’d unleashed it on Liv—hitting her without warning, fucking her despite her protests—while Tate watched from his chains.
He shuddered.
“I only brought it up to make a point.” The toothpick jogged in Van’s mouth, and his gaze turned inward. “The thing with Liv is I never put her before myself. Fuck her happiness. I wanted her, and that was that. Then I met Amber.” He shook his head and laughed to himself. “Setting her free was the bravest thing I ever did.”
Amber’s agoraphobia had been unmanageable back then, and Van realized he wasn’t helping. It shocked the hell out of everyone when he returned her to her isolated life.
Tate dropped the cigarette in an empty beer bottle. “But you got her back.”
“At the time, I was certain I wouldn’t. And here’s my point. When I lost Amber, I had a goddamn eye-opening epiphany, like a lightning bolt to the chest. I fucking love that woman so much it redefines the meaning of happiness. It’s not a matter of putting her happiness before mine. When she smiles, I feel a peace unlike anything I’ve felt in my life. And if letting her go is the only way for her to keep that smile, I would do it again in a heartbeat.”
“Poetic.” Cole stared at the floor, his mouth twisting in a sad grin. “I mean it. Because I feel the exact same way.”
“I know why you’re telling me this,” Tate said, “and let me remind you Camila is with Matias. I let her go.”
“No, you didn’t.” Van leaned forward with elbows braced on his spread knees. “She was never yours. When she moved to Colombia, you didn’t have a choice in the matter.”
Not exactly true. Tate could’ve told her how he felt, fought for her, made her choose. He certainly didn’t have to go along with Matias’ plan to reunite them.
Matias would crap a cartel brick if he knew Tate was on a meet-and-greet mission with the man who abducted Camila eleven years ago. If Matias had it his way, Van would be dead, because he didn’t just grow up with Camila. He grew up with Lucia, too. Loved her like a sister. He wouldn’t want Van anywhere near her.
“Why are we here?” Van sat back, eyes glinting like razors.
Tate didn’t owe anyone an explanation, so he decided to throw Van’s words back at him. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“Good answer.” With a wolfish smile, Van turned to Cole. “So tell me, hot shot secret agent, what happens if we leave the neighborhood?”
“Don’t call me that.” Cole pushed off the window ledge and knelt beside the map, pointing at an intersection of streets. “We entered the neighborhood here. Remember the men who approached the taxi?”
Tate nodded. The armed thugs had shared words with Cole through the open window. Since Tate didn’t speak Spanish, the short conversation had been abstruse. But when Cole slapped some bills in their palms, the gist was clear. Cole had paid an entrance fee.
“When I came here six weeks ago,” Cole said, “I made a deal with the gang that patrols that corner. Had to work my way up to the boss to negotiate safe passage. Which means that as long as I pay a toll each time I enter, they won’t throw a grenade in my car window. But that only works for me. The gang boss doesn’t know you.”
“So what you’re saying is, if we leave the neighborhood…”
“You won’t be able to return. And one more thing…” Cole scratched his stubbled cheek. “Matias Restrepo doesn’t have any sway here. Badell has more resources, more men, more guns, more everything. I’m not saying not to call him if you need help. Just don’t expect a fast and successful rescue. It would take him weeks to get his men into this neighborhood, and coming here would be at a huge risk to his cartel.”
Fucking great. Not that Tate intended to call him, but it had lingered at the back of his mind like a security blanket.
Cole glanced at his watch. “Lucia should be home any minute.”
They moved to the window, and Tate trained the binoculars on the entrance of the alley, his entire body wound tight with nerves.
He’d only seen her in photos. And that vile video. How would his first encounter with her go? What if there was nothing more to her story? No redeemable reason for her involvement with Badell?
No matter what happened, he would have to tell Camila when it was over. Christ, he wanted more than anything to be the bearer of good news.