Marco wouldn’t tell Mia where they were taking her, but she recognized the hacienda before the plane landed. She instantly tensed. “Is El Padrino here?”

“What do you think?” asked the big man who she once thought to be her only ally in the cartel.

“Is Zambada no longer a threat?” She reached her cuffed hands up to scratch her head, her fingers inching under her hairclip.

“Zambada’s dead.”

“What? How?” Mia asked as she unfastened the clip and concealed it in her palm.

“He’s buried in the avocado grove along with the other morons who attacked us.”

“You mean to say, he failed?” Casually, she slipped the barrette into her pocket. “From security it looked like all hope was lost.”

“Zambada took over the hacienda, but once I was released from the hospital, we took it back. No thanks to the Aussie backstabber The Godfather trusted.”

“But we would have been killed if we had stayed and fought.” Mia pursed her lips. She wasn’t about to say that she knew the authorities hadn’t spotted El Padrino’s return. Heck, no one had mentioned anything about Marco’s return either.

“That’s what you say.” Marco unfastened her seatbelt and grabbed her by the elbow. “Come.”

“Do you think he’ll kill me?”

“Yeah.”

She yanked her elbow away. “And you don’t care? Marco, we’re friends.”

“I thought we were until you disappeared with that traitor. How could you have been so stupid? You knew El Padrino would never let you go.” He pushed her into a golf cart and headed for the mansion.

Of course she couldn’t expect any of the cartel’s men to help, blast them. She knew how Vincent Morales controlled and coerced his people into abject loyalty. She clenched her arm muscles to stop her hands from trembling. ICE’s plan was for the Morales Cartel to make contact through the charter operation. And now they’d been duped. She thought she was safe with Luke? Good Lord, Mia wasn’t safe with anyone anywhere.

Without another word said, Marco marched her inside and up the grand staircase. Repulsed by the excessive display of wealth that could be used for a greater, more noble purpose, Mia seethed, her fists clenched, her head held high. But she couldn’t help the shock of ice pulsing through her blood as the door opened and she gazed into the eyes of evil.

The chair with the crown of pain had been moved to the center of the room, facing the desk. Mia’s breaths came in short gasps. He’d fixed it, she knew he had. God, she would die this day. Zapped by vicious volts of electricity. Where was Luke? How long did it take before he realized she was gone? Was the tracking device still working?

Stay alive.

She moved into the office of her own volition.

“You have been unfaithful,” El Padrino said, his eyes blacker than coal—heartless, remorseless. He dismissed Marco and the men with a wave of his hand. “Wait outside the door.”

Mia said nothing, eyeing the letter opener sitting neatly in the display where it always was. She headed straight for the crown of pain and sat. If only it were still behind the screen.

“Ah, you understand that you must be punished.”

“Why fight?” She held up her zip cuffs. “You have me restrained.”

“Hmm.” El Padrino sat back, crossing his arms. “You were very reckless, starting a charter business with my plane.”

“Really? I thought it was ingenious—payment for all the years you stole from me.”

“Stole? You ungrateful bitch. I fed and clothed you. I took you off the streets and provided you with a home in paradise, and you think I owe you something?”

Mia pretended to stretch her shoulders back while she inched the hair clip into her palm. “It wasn’t my choice to come here.”

El Padrino narrowed his gaze. “I never would have believed how ungrateful you could be.” Standing, he moved to his liquor cupboard.

While his back was turned, Mia inserted the metal end of the clip into the tiny locking mechanism and pushed against the lip of her left zip cuff until it loosened a couple of notches. Her heartbeat sped. Good Lord, it worked.

“You are a worthless whore.” He stirred his drink calmly as if he’d been talking about the weather.

Mia transferred the barrette to her left hand and twisted her arm until she found the mechanism on her right cuff.

“And that pilot will die—painfully.”

As he spun on his heel, Mia folded her hands, hiding the barrette. “You wouldn’t.” She didn’t want to believe Luke could fall into El Padrino’s grasp, but The Godfather was a snake, capable of anything.

“I was a fool to trust him.”

“He saved your life.”

“Saved it to get to you.”

“No.” Mia shook her head. “He saved me from Zambada.”

“Then why didn’t he come back?” The godfather huffed.

She pursed her lips, her skin growing hot.

“I’ll tell you why, because he thought he’d found a way to usurp me. I’ll bet he’s been feeling pretty good about himself, starting up a new business with my plane…and my woman!”

Lowering her eyes, Mia knew better than to argue.

“But we don’t have to concern ourselves with him anymore. By this time tomorrow, he’ll be dead.”

Sickly bile burned her throat while, with a slight shift of her wrist, she turned the mechanism so it was hidden beneath her arm. “What did you do?”

El Padrino cackled with his sickly laugh. “Let’s just say tomorrow’s charter won’t end well.”

She forced herself to meet his gaze to draw his attention from her hands as she worked the second cuff loose. “What makes you think Lucas will fly without me?”

“He doesn’t care about you.” He took a drink. “Men like Lewis only care about themselves and growing richer. He used you, that’s all. And he knows if he tries to come get you, I’ll kill him before he places a foot on my land.”

Mia moved her hands slightly to ensure she’d made enough room to pull free, her heart racing like a rabbit’s. “Y-you’re right, he was just using me.”

“I’m not surprised you see it now. You are so sheltered, you cannot possibly understand the minds of men.” He set his glass on the desk and headed toward her.

Every muscle in Mia’s body stiffened.

“Ah, my pet, you are still beautiful.” He rubbed his finger along her cheek while he lowered his lips to her ear. “What shall I do with you?”

A shiver shot down her neck while her mind raced. If she fought now she’d have to get through Marco and the men—could she buy time? Her gaze shot to the display of weapons behind the desk, then to the drawer where El Padrino kept a revolver. God, if only she were as well-trained and as tough as Henri.

Can I? She slid the metal clip between her fingers and made a fist, the sharp piece projecting a half-inch.

“You must be punished. Your life is so fragile, chica. You breathe because I allow you to breathe. You must never forget.” He reached behind for the belt to buckle her in to the chair.

“No!” As he straightened, Mia yanked her wrists free, sprang to her feet and swung her fist, striking him across the face with the sharp end of the barrette. A red line spread as he teetered backward. Mia dashed for the desk.

“You bitch!” he bellowed, chasing after her.

Unable to reach the drawer, she grabbed the letter opener and swung with a backhand. El Padrino shifted, taking the strike in the soft tissue of his arm. Snarling, he yanked the letter opener out of his flesh and attacked, driving it toward her heart. Mia ducked under his arms and lunged for the drawer.