Chapter Nineteen
Rio never took his foot off the gas, sending the car fishtailing along the roundabout like a carnival ride. He barely made the turn, and a few less daring drivers moved into the adjoining lane, horns blaring. The one good thing about the area, his erratic driving wouldn’t raise an eyebrow.
“He’s there,” Damian warned. “I just picked up the signal between two towers. Eagle’s Nest is in that narrow stretch.”
The unsub, fake Ayala, had to be at the hotel. It was too much of a damn coincidence to have the signal end up this close to Celeste. Rio pulled into the parking lot at a more controlled speed, going straight to the side entrance without drawing attention to himself. After throwing the gearshift into park, he grabbed his bag. By the time the car door slammed shut he had one foot in the building and his Ruger in hand. He cleared the narrow space then pounded up the stairs, each footfall echoing against the walls. What should have been a quick dart up two flights stretched farther with every step. He had to get to Celeste and make sure she was safe.
“I got movement in the stairwell,” Holiday’s voice whispered through his earpiece.
“He’s a friendly,” Damian replied.
Rio slammed through the door, his gun raised. “Who’s come through?” he bellowed, voice sounding raw and demanding, even to himself.
Holiday followed his every move, his muzzle pointed away. “Nobody.”
“Open it.” Rio nodded toward the room. Holiday pulled a key, unlocking the door then having enough sense to get out of the way.
“Report,” Gatlin demanded into his ear.
Rio swept the room then stalked into the bedroom while Holiday brought in his gear.
“Unsub is at Eagle’s Nest,” Damian reported. “Repeat, unsub at Eagle’s Nest.”
“Son of a bitch. How da fuck did that happen?”
The room was empty, the closet still open from the initial sweep. When he checked the bathroom, the pieces fit together. Anger and disappointment sank in his gut. Celeste had left, again.
He pressed the mic. “She called him,” he said with a heavy sigh.
“How?” Gatlin threw back with disbelief. “I got the phones.”
Rio turned around, heading to the sitting area. “Even the bathroom?” He tossed his bag on the couch.
“Who the fuck puts a phone in the can?”
“The latch is open.” Holiday pulled on the sliding door. He turned back, the corner of his mouth twisted in annoyance. “This was supposed to be a ‘keep everyone out’ assignment. Nobody said we’d have to keep her in. If I’d known, I would have cuffed her and locked her in.” He ran his hand over his forehead, frustration etched in every feature. “There wasn’t much traffic. Woman and kids left earlier. Not her. A suit arrived a few minutes ago. Didn’t come up and his SUV’s still there. I’ll send in the plate number.” He pulled his phone out and typed in the plate.
They went out to the balcony. A quick sweep of the surroundings and he spotted Celeste at the far side of the parking lot, a man’s hand around her arm. Rio tugged on the shirt, sending two buttons snapping against the glass door. “I got a camera in my bag, get Damian to ID him.” Then he grabbed the rail and went over the side.
“I got your back.” Holiday said in a low tone. Then the update came over his earpiece. “Snow White’s gone rogue. She’s making a run to Oz.”
There was no use trying to be stealthy if people were looking straight at you. So he went for speed and accuracy instead. But the nearer he got, the more the scene developed. Celeste was being dragged to an SUV, where Ayala stepped out of the back, bruised and bloody where he’d taken the shot to his leg. The driver wore the bottom half of a guard’s uniform. A red patch started at his chin, trailing down his undershirt to smear the front of his pants. The inside man that helped break out Ayala.
“Boss,” the driver called out to Leonard. “You got a tail.”
So the guy wasn’t with Ayala. Who the hell was he? One of Guerrero’s people?
The suit swung around, pulling Celeste to stand in front of him. Rio searched his memory. Had his picture been on her phone? He should have gone through every shot himself instead of handing it off. Hopefully, Gatlin had identified him. Rio brought up his weapon while the suit pushed a thirty-eight caliber revolver into her side.
“Leonard,” Ayala barked, bolting forward with a pronounced limp.
The driver caught him, pulling him back, and shoving a gun in his face. By the silhouette he was likely using a nine-millimeter Glock.
“Hello, Father,” Leonard said with cool disdain. “I trust you aren’t any worse for wear.”
What? Another one? Why hadn’t she mentioned a brother? How many secret children did Ayala have? He’d come onto ICE’s radar within the last ten years. By then, his children were grown. It shouldn’t surprise him that he’d managed to keep his name off a birth certificate, even if the mother provided it. Cartel would find a way to make something happen, by either bribe or threat.
Ayala stared down his captor with disdain. “This isn’t my blood.” He shifted his shoulder and indicated the smear on his chest. “Your man left a bloody path.”
“Too bad,” Leonard blustered.
Celeste stared at her brother in shock, all color leaving her face. Rio studied the pair. Ayala was lighter skinned and tall, so his children had to have different mothers. According to the records, Celeste was half German, her mother a model, while Leonard was darker-skinned and stocky.
Leonard leaned in like a demented lover ready to drop a kiss on her temple. “So, who’s this?” he asked her, without taking his eyes from Rio.
Celeste arched away, but Leonard dug his fingers into her arm.
Rio fought down the anger threatening to surface. He had to keep his cool. Hostage taking could turn messy, and he wasn’t a negotiator. But he could read the guy well enough to know someone was going to die today. It was up to him to make damn sure it wasn’t Celeste.
“Leonard Bello,” Gatlin jumped in on the comm, “owns a U.S. Custom Broker’s office at the border. Legit business. Previously owned by Ayala’s father.” There was the link. But if he was licensed by U.S. Customs to do import/export, he couldn’t have a record. So, who was he? “He’s in the background of one of Snow White’s pictures. Christmas…three years ago, I think. Ski lodge in Aspen.”
…
“Vic-toria.” Leonard aimed the gun at her foot. “Don’t make me ask you again,” he said in a demented whisper that made her skin crawl.
Celeste curled her toes in, trying to make her foot a smaller target. Her hair whipped across her face, covering her eyes. Tears fell freely as she silently begged Rio for understanding. I’m sorry, she mouthed, her lip quivering. He gave her a slight nod, adjusting his index finger as he glanced toward Oz and the guard. Guard… She couldn’t give up Rio’s real identity, but he’d make a great protector. It may be a useless lie, but at least she didn’t identify him as ICE. “Rio,” she said, taking a leap of faith, “he’s…one of father’s men.” She stared at Oz, willing him to play along. He would either back her up or not.
“No.” He shook his head vigorously. “I don’t think so.” But the possibility seemed to throw him off his stride. He cocked his head, glaring at Rio, giving him a thorough sweep, from head to toe. “He’s not giving Victor a second look.” He pressed his mouth against her ear. “He’s here for you, little sister.”
“I hired her a bodyguard,” Oz confirmed, and she almost melted in relief. He turned, dismissing the gun pointed at his head. “And he won’t hesitate to kill you, son. Just put the gun down and we can all walk away.”
“She’s not going anywhere.”
“I’ve been watching you, Leonard.” Rio assured him. “All the way back to Aspen. The going back and forth, chasing after your father’s approval.” He gave Leonard a look of derision. “Manning the office in El Paso.”
Leonard’s hold tightened on her arm. “You fucking bassstard.” Spittle landed on her shoulder as he shook with anger. “What is it about you and your whore mother that he can’t get over? You and her. You and her, it’s all he ever cared about. I called him, and he didn’t answer for A WEEK.” He pulled the muzzle from her cheek, emphasizing his word. “But did he show up? Noooo. Not until he learned his precious daugh-ter was in trouble.” The cold metal pushed against her ribs. “She always came first then—”
“This has nothing to do with her. Just put the gu—”
“It has everything to do with her.” He pulled the gun from her side, as he raged on over her shoulder. “You chose her. And left us to live like dogs.”
“That’s not true,” Oz denied, disconcerted.
“Yes, it is!” He sucked in a breath. “Is she even yours? Look at her. She looked like a fucking corpse. Even getting color she doesn’t look like you,” he said with derision. “You still gave her your name.” Leonard’s voice broke with the ragged emotion. “What about me? I’m your son.” He swung the revolver around like a pointer. “Your eldest son. And you named me Leonard.” He spat the name, as if it left a bad taste in his mouth.
Even though she couldn’t see Leonard, Rio’s hard gaze and darting glances said things were bad. He stopped, holding her gaze for a moment. The corners of his lips lost the hard edge in a brief expression of regret. Her heart broke all over again. There was only one way this would end. And it was all her fault.
Rio eyed the asphalt between them, then came back to her. He repeated the steps and she understood he wanted her to hit the pavement. She sniffed, blinking away her tears, and gave a small nod. Hopefully, he’d understand. Rio set his jaw, giving his target his full attention as Leonard’s verbal vomit continued.
“Why should this bitch get what’s rightfully mine?”
“You’re both my children.”
“Fuck you. I work my ass off every day dealing with legal importers.” He mashed the gun to Celeste’s cheek. “I had to study for the custom’s exam. I had to get cleared by the U.S. government. I had to bring in customers and deal with employees.” He shook her hard enough that her ankle twisted under her. “And I have to give her half the profits. She’s done nothing.”
Celeste gasped, her tears starting again. Oz had always said Leonard was a figurehead for the company. His license kept the office open, but he had employees doing the work. Had he lied? Why?
Oz shoved the driver, breaking free, then turned to her with determination. The guard rebounded, kicking at Oz’s leg. He went down on his knees as tires screeched in the distance. “I’ll kill you, old man.” The guard’s face twisted into an evil display.
“Then I’ll wait for you in hell,” Oz said in defiance.
“Nooooooo.” Leonard rounded on the guard, the gun stretched out in his hand. “Not until he pays for what he’s done. He has to watch his precious daughter die.”
Celeste pressed her eyes shut as a fierce wave of anger crashed into her. She couldn’t let Leonard kill her, because the baby would die with her. She took in her surroundings, much like Gatlin had taught her. Guard watched Leonard. Oz watched Leonard. Leonard pointed gun at guard. She braced her arm then drove her elbow into Leonard’s ribs with all her might. His grip broke loose. She threw herself on the ground where Rio had pointed and all hell broke loose.
…
Rio pushed off, his legs pumping like never before.
“Guard,” Holiday stated with a sniper’s calm, a split second before the shot rang out, then the body hit the ground. Celeste screamed.
Rio lunged, twisting in midair to shoot Leonard while trying to cover Celeste. He hit shoulder and upper chest, sending Leonard off balance. His face was a mask of disbelief as he stared at his father, a dark spot sitting where the bridge of his nose had been. The gun clattered to the ground, then his body landed with a thud as cars screeched to a halt around them.
“Noooo,” Celeste wailed.
Rio rolled, covering her as he aimed at Ayala. Celeste slammed her palm on the pavement over and over. “Don’t shoot.” She kicked at him, pushing up on her elbows. “Don’t shoot him.”
Ayala lay on his side, gun pointed away, the raw devastation on his face painful to behold.
Celeste jammed an elbow into his side. “Don’t…” Her voice broke. “He’s my fa-ther.” She dragged herself from under him, her palms digging into the hot asphalt in an effort to reach him.
The team descended. Rio rolled onto his back, his side throbbing. A hand reached down to help him up as Gatlin pulled Celeste off the ground. He held her as she fought to go after the men taking her father. Defeated, she looked back at him, face wet, eyes lost, hurt, and disgusted. Then she turned, stumbling to get away.
Words played at the edge of his mind. Deep, powerful, life-changing words he thought he’d never say to a woman. Yet he stood there like a fool while she walked away—again. Everything inside him felt compressed, ready to explode with the things he wanted to say. With the very words he hoped would make her stop.
But her words echoed in his head again. I hate you. How could he blame her? Her brother was dead. Her father was on his way to prison. And he’d shot them both. She deserves better. He mumbled a thank-you to whoever helped him then shoved his gun behind his belt. Gatlin held her, letting her cry as she needed. She bowed her head but wouldn’t look his way, flaying him with every second that ticked by. Straightening his spine he dragged his emotions together and walked away.
Leaving was for the best. Deep down he knew it. But he hadn’t expected it to hurt so damn much.