Tires screeched and crunched.
Metal crashed.
One man cursed, another yelled.
Chris’s ears rang as he flipped over in the backseat again, unable to stop his body from rolling all the way to the other side of the car. This time, his shoulder snapped hard against the plastic of the door, an ache spreading.
He didn’t focus on the pain.
Not when adrenaline coursed through his system, making him hyper aware of the bits of debris flying all around his head, and the force of the rolling car sending him flying to the roof on his back. Holy shit.
He should have buckled up.
The car came to a stop, but on its top. Chris rolled over to his knees, the pressure in his ears making the men’s voices from the front sound like they mumbled under water. His hands scraped against the shards of glass that had littered the roof of the car, but he barely even felt the sting when it cut his palms.
“Fuck,” he mumbled, still trying to figure out what happened.
What had happened?
That hit he took to the head made his vision cloudy, and his mind slow. Too slow. He lifted his head, nausea filling him as his hearing came back with an almost painful clarity. Outside of the car, an alarm sounded.
Their vehicle?
Maybe.
The alarm didn’t concern him.
The three men coming for the car did.
Shit.
The men said nothing, and the fools in the front of their overturned vehicle didn’t even have time to react before they had leaned in the car with guns aimed. Guns with silencers already attached.
Pop.
Pop.
Two shots.
Two men dead.
The three men didn’t even speak together as they worked. This had been planned, obviously, and they understood what they had to do. Simple as that.
Chris blinked, seeing the blood that sprayed against the side of the windshield that hadn’t broken into little pieces like the rest. The rusty tang of the blood filled the car, and gunpowder, freshly fired, mixed with it. He’d smelled that before. It still made his stomach roll into knots all the same.
The third man, the one who hadn’t fired his gun, kneeled to stare in the back seat where Chris remained on all fours, trying to figure out his next move. Any other time, and he would have already been dead.
“April showers bring May flowers,” the man murmured, his English decent, but his accent still thick, and clear. Chris heard the words, and understood what they meant, but his shock still hadn’t died yet. “Tell the Lòpez family the Garcías aren’t going anywhere, Canadian, and because of their deal with you, the war is on.”
17.
“Val, come in here, now.”
Maria peered up at her mother from the pile of wooden blocks they had used to build a school for her three Barbie dolls. Valeria was quick to give her daughter a smile, not wanting the girl to worry herself over Jorge, and whatever he wanted. His sharp tone had likely caused Maria’s concern, but then again, the man was always harsh.
He didn’t have a concept of kindness.
“I’ll be right back,” Valeria said, “and by then, you can decide what we will build next, okay?”
Maria nodded. “Okay, Mamá.”
Valeria wouldn’t waste time, so she headed to the rear of the house where Jorge worked in his office. Although working on what, she didn’t know, and she didn’t care to ask. Coming to stand in the doorway, she didn’t walk inside the office because that was yet another one of his rules.
This space was his.
Not hers.
“Yes?” she asked.
Behind the desk, Jorge kept his head down on the paperwork in front of him that he shuffled into a folder. He didn’t bother to glance up at her entrance, nor to greet her before he said, “I am heading out for a week—I need a break after these last few.”
Great.
She didn’t want to be here, but she also didn’t want to be elsewhere with her husband, either. That sounded like a problem waiting to happen, and not at all one she wanted to deal with, all things considered.
Still, Valeria kept her attitude in check. That way, Jorge would keep his fucking moods, and his hands, to himself.
“What will we need?”
He chuckled. “No, me, Val. I am going away for the week. You will be fine here with the guards, Maria, and Abril to keep you company, I am sure.”
Well, yes.
She didn’t show her happiness at his news. That wouldn’t do her any good.
“Where are you going?”
Jorge glanced up, dark eyes nailing her to the floor with his displeasure. “Does it matter?”
“No, of course, not. I wonder—”
“Don’t bother.”
Valeria nodded. “When are you coming back, then?”
“When I feel like it, hermosa.”
Fine with her.
“Okay,” she said quietly, “I hope it’s a good trip.”
And that you never come back.
Valeria forced a smile on her face when Jorge looked her way again. He arched a brow, lifted a finger, and pointed at the doorway, saying, “Leave now.”
She didn’t need to told again.
Spinning on her heel, mind reeling over the fact she would have at least an entire week without this man looking over her shoulder, Valeria moved to leave Jorge’s sight.
“Well, wait a second,” he said behind her.
Valeria’s shoulders dropped.
She knew it was too good to be true.
All day, she had focused on keeping her emotions under control. From the moment Chris had disappeared down the road leading out of the ranch, she had all she could do to keep from having a mental breakdown. She distracted herself with her child, and work around the house. Not to mention, staying the hell out of Jorge’s way.
What could he want now?
Turning around, she asked, “What else can I do for you?”
He tipped his head to the side, his gaze roving over her slowly like he was drinking her up. Had that been another man looking at her that way—Chris—she would have shivered, filled with anticipation about what might come next. Not this man though.
It made her shiver, sure.
But in disgust.
“Maria,” Jorge said.
“What about her?”
“That private school I had mentioned. I think it’s time we—”
Valeria opened her mouth, ready to plead if that’s what this asshole wanted, to keep her daughter with her, but the ringing phone on the desk saved her the trouble. For now, anyway. There was no way in hell she was allowing him to send Maria away.
“A moment,” Jorge muttered, giving her a glare as he reached for the landline. He didn’t even bother to pick the phone up, instead hitting a button that put the call on speaker phone as he answered with, “Hola, casa de Lòpez.”
The man on the other end of the line spoke fast, his Spanish coming out jumbled, making it hard for Valeria to follow along. Although, she managed to catch a few bits and pieces. Not that she needed to.
The expression on Jorge’s face told it all.
He’d moved from annoyed with her to stunned in a blink. And then, just as fast, his gaze darkened as his lips pulled into a sneer when he snarled, “What?”
“Attacked, they attacked the car,” the man muttered.