Chapter 20
Shepherd’s gut clenched like a fist.
Timoteo Santiago! The bastard he had watched poison his own man. The monster who’d held Carlotta captive, if not by physical force, by a means even more sinister.
Except for the knife in his boot, Shep was unarmed. And not foolish enough to believe this conniving lunatic had come alone.
But Santiago turned toward him with a paternal smile. “Do not be foolish, Mr. Cherokee. Or shall I call you Mr. Shepherd?” He shook his head and tsked again like a disillusioned father, a long-suffering mentor. “So duplicitous. And after all I did for you. I am quite disappointed.”
“Señor!” Carlotta’s voice was soft, almost reverent. “You are here.”
Santiago smiled. “Of course, my dear. You are experiencing familial difficulties, are you not? You did not think I would neglect you in your time of need, did you?”
There was something about the old fucker’s voice that made Shep’s skin crawl, that made him want to reach into his boot and pull out the blade hidden there, but Santiago flicked his gaze to Shep’s ankle, eyes twinkling.
“Let us not do anything we shall regret, Mr. Shepherd. Remember, there are many lives at risk here,” he said and nodded almost imperceptibly toward the window.
So, as expected, he had planted someone outside to wait.
“How did you find us?” Sofia asked. Her voice, at least, was rife with the suspicion Santiago’s presence warranted. Carlotta may be blind to the old man’s murderous ways, but at least her younger sister understood the danger. The danger from which Shep would have to extract them.
“How?” Santiago asked. “Your dearest sister trusts me, even if you do not. She wisely alerted me to your absence, of course.”
The old man’s words struck Shep like a blow. So Carlotta had from the very beginning, he realized but didn’t shift his attention from Santiago. “What happens now?” he asked and kept his voice carefully level, cautiously low.
“Now?” Santiago asked and shrugged. “I suspect we all go our separate ways so long as we know the girl is healthy and happy.” He turned toward Sofia as if she were no more than six years of age…as if she weren’t as naked as the day she was born. “You are happy, are you not, my child?”
“Yes,” she said, but her eyes were narrowed, her tone suspicious.
“And you, my dearest Carlotta, you are well?”
She was silent for a moment. “I did not tell you Sofia was gone.”
“What?” Santiago raised his bushy brows as if surprised. “Surely, you remember your call to me.”
Carlotta shook her head. “I do not,” she said, but was she lying to the very end?
Santiago shook his head and watched her with avuncular concern. “You were quite distraught at the time. I imagine your worry drove the conversation straight from your head. Sofia…” His tone took on a bit of disapproval. “You should have informed your sister of your plans beforehand, but I suppose young love has been responsible for more egregious failings. Well, I will leave you then, unless you wish for a ride somewhere. The airport perhaps?”
“No,” Carlotta said, confusion heavy in her tone. “I do not.”
“Very well. I but need a few words with your friend here. Then I shall be on my way.” He raised his brows at Shepherd, tacitly issuing the challenge.
Shep nodded and turned toward the door, but Carlotta spoke before he moved in that direction. “Why?”
“What?” Santiago asked, seeming surprised that she’d questioned him.
“Why do you wish to speak to him?”
“It is nothing for which you must concern yourself, my dear. Just a small conversation between a doctor and his patient. We will only be—“
“Why not speak here?”
“Let it go, Lotta,” Shep warned.
“No,” she said and shook her head. “No, I will not let it go. Why are you here, señor? How did you find us?”
“You sound quite suspicious,” Santiago said, disappointment heavy in his fatherly tone. “After all we’ve been through together. After all I have done. Have I not cared for you since your father’s death? Have I not protected you, Carlotta Osorio?”
Guilt blended, hot and potent, with a half dozen other volatile emotions on her expressive face, but she kept her chin high, her brows low. “I did not inform you of Sofia’s disappearance.”
Santiago was silent for a moment then, “Ahhh, so you have feelings for this Americano, sí?” The last word was almost gritted, but he smiled through his teeth. “You have no wish for him to believe we have a…special bond.”
“Special bond?” Shep said and laughed.
Santiago turned woodenly toward him. “Something amuses you, señor?”
“Yeah, it does!” Shep said and laughed again. “Something amuses the hell outta me. In fact, it’s pretty damned hilarious to think that a dodderin’ old psychopath could catch the interest of a woman like Carlotta.”
“You wish to challenge this doddering old psychopath, Mr. Shepherd?”
He laughed again, feeling the challenge like a drug in his churning gut. “Sure. Why don’t we step outside and—“
“No!” Carlotta rasped and grabbed Shep’s arm.
“It’s alright,” he assured her, gaze still on Santiago, but she tightened her grip.
“It is not all right.” Her gaze fused to his, desperately pleading. “You know this. I will not let you sacrifice yourself for me.”
He turned his gaze to hers. Found the fear there. The caring. “I been willin’ to die for less,” he said.
But she turned, body shielding his. “Leave him be,” she commanded, addressing Santiago, “and I will return to your hacienda.”
“Forget it!” Shep snapped.
But the old man raised his brows. “It wounds me that you believe I would harm him, my dear.”
“Let him be,” she said, “and I will become your wife.”
“Are you insane?” Sofia gasped, “Don’t do this.”
“But you must promise that you will let my sister go. That you will have nothing more to do with Linus Shepherd.”
“You believe I would barter for your affection?”
Shep forced a laugh. “How else would you get it, old man?”
Santiago almost kept his cool, almost smiled, but his words were sharp and caustic. “You Americanos, you think yourselves so righteous, so superior.”
“Compared to a washed-up old drug runner? Yeah, I do.”
“Washed up, am I?”
“I doubt you could get it up if—“
The gun appeared in Santiago’s fist in an instant, but Shep had already reached out, already tossed Carlotta to the floor with his left hand and reached for his blade with his right.
Carlotta snatched the pistol from her waistband, rolled onto her back, and fired.
An instant later, Santiago clutched his chest and dropped to his knees, shock stamped on his wide-eyed face.
Behind them, glass shattered.
Shep twisted and threw. The knife spun through the broken window. There was a grunt of pain. A bullet pinged harmlessly into the floor. Outside, footsteps stumbled aimlessly.
Shep raced for the door, plunged into the darkness and rolled.
But the night was quiet. Both Santiago and his fearsome henchman were dead.