Dirty Angels - Halle Karina - Страница 57
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“It makes you weak,” he corrected me.
I swept a shrewd eye over to him. “Or maybe it makes me strong.”
After all, a kingdom was only as good as its ruler, and a king and queen could do more damage together than a king alone.
“It makes you aggravating as all hell,” Este said sourly. He sighed. “But you wouldn’t be Javier Bernal if you weren’t.” He left the room.
I poured myself a glass of scotch and wondered if it would be the last scotch I’d ever have. Was Luisa really worth that?
But I knew she was. And if I really wanted to pretend I was still completely selfish, saving Luisa would save me from my own torture, my own demons. Not having her around was hard enough. Her absence ate at me. My dick throbbed for her when my own hand wouldn’t do. She had given me something during the short time she was with me, something I never knew I needed. Now it was gone, she was gone, and I’d become captive to the foolish notion that I could get it back.
It wasn’t that Luisa completed me—she couldn’t be the other half of my so-called soul. But she was all I could ever want, all I could ever need. If I was going to be swallowed by my own dirt one day, I’d rather have her with me, smiling and free.
The next day, armed with as much detailed information from Juanito as possible—information I had already forwarded to Berrellez—I headed out on my suicide mission. I made sure I looked good. The finest silk and linen suit I owned. Black leather boots—a 9mm in one and my knife in another. Two .38 Supers in my harness under my jacket. A bulletproof vest under everything else.
I couldn’t do anything to protect my head, but at least my hair looked good.
I had Juanito drive me to Mazatlan and drop me off at one of the high-end resorts.
I took my seat at a flashy bar overlooking a glittering blue pool, aviator shades keeping my struggles internal and away from eyes.
“Looking good, Mr. Bernal,” a husky voice said from behind me.
I grinned to myself before I turned and shared it with Lillian Berrellez.
I looked her up and down. “You’re also looking good, Ms. Berrellez,” I said smoothly, in English.
She was a fairly tall woman, nearly my height, with a very tight, curvy build. Her tits were huge and fantastic, and her ass was larger than an aircraft carrier. Her eyes were hooded, her lips gratuitously full, her hair big and light auburn, which somehow worked with her darkly tanned skin. She was wearing a black suit that fit her perfectly.
She smiled, cheeky as always. It was her way of making you think she liked you. I knew the truth—she was tough as nails and didn’t like anybody, especially me.
“English?” she asked.
I shrugged. “It’s good for me to practice.”
“I’m guessing you won’t need any practice for what we’re about to do.”
I gave her a sly look. “I’m not sure who you think I am and what I do all day, but I can assure you that I don’t take part in government-operated raids on a daily basis. I’ll be more of a fish out of water than you.”
“Hey,” she said sharply, though her eyes were still playful. “I’ll have you know I helped initiate a bust in Culiacan that resulted in thirteen million worth of drugs and cash being seized.”
“That was you?” I asked. “Oh, your parents must be so proud.”
She glared at me. “Your English needs some work. You’re not very good at sarcasm.”
I finished up my drink and followed her through the hotel lobby and out to a waiting white SUV with tinted windows. I felt a bit like a lamb being led to the slaughter. I hoped they knew there was a lion underneath all my wool.
I climbed in the back, beside her, and was quickly introduced to her team before the vehicle roared off. There was the driver, Diego, a traitor to my country, obviously, and Greg, a gruff silver-haired dope in his early fifties who didn’t say much but obviously had a problem with the fact that Berrellez was sharing the operation with him. He only spoke up when he needed to take control.
While we chugged along the highway heading north to Culiacan, I was filled in on their plan. Naturally, I wasn’t given very much to go on. Though I was thanked and told that the intel that Juanito provided was the final puzzle piece that helped them pinpoint where they thought Salvador might be, they gave me no background into how closely they had been watching him, how much they already knew, and how they got all their previous information.
I suppose they could have been doing the exact same thing to me, although I was a smaller fish to fry. Technically I wasn’t wanted in the states anymore for anything, but I had a giant rap sheet in Mexico. My government did nothing to enforce it, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the DEA tried to take things into their own hands. They’d say capturing Javier Bernal would make America a safer place.
Fucking morons.
But Salvador, Salvador was wanted for a few things in the USA. Cocaine trafficking charges and the murders of several DEA officers and officials were just some things that the DEA wanted to hang him for. The rest of his charges would come via the Mexican Attorney General. I had no doubt that the DEA and the PGR were working together on this, using Mexican soldiers who had no ties to the cartels.
Of course, it was always so hard to tell what side people were on here.
“Did you know that the character of Sinaloa is that of an angel and a devil?” I said to Berrellez as we started getting closer to the city, our vehicle beginning to snare up with traffic. “It was lawless and violent, even before the poppies started growing.”
“Thanks for the history lesson, Javier,” she said, not taking her gaze from the window. “It’s a wonder you aren’t from here.”
“I merely live nearby. Besides, I’m all devil, no angel.”
She raised a brow and looked at me with that perpetual smirk. “Is that right? Tell me again about the woman you are doing this for…”
I pressed my lips together, not wanting to share more about Luisa than I had to. If they weren’t going to be so forthcoming with me, I wouldn’t with them.
“She’s an innocent woman who got taken in against her will,” I finally said.
“She looked happy in her wedding photos,” she noted.
“She wasn’t,” I said, my tone flinty. “And you know that whatever Salvador wants, Salvador gets.”
“Sounds a bit like Javier Bernal.”
“Well, we shall see then, won’t we?”
“It’s just strange you’ve taken an interest in his wife. I have a hard time believing you’re doing this out of the goodness of your heart.”
“Then keep believing that. But once you see her and you look in her eyes, you’ll know. And you’ll know there was no point in even having this conversation.”
“What if she’s already dead?” Greg asked from the front seat.
I shot him my most violent look. “If she’s already dead, there’s no difference. Her eyes will look the same.”
It was something I was trying my hardest not to think about. As much as I thought about Luisa, as much as I pictured her beautiful face, her fiery spirit, her pure heart, the way she felt like home when I was inside her, I didn’t think about the way she was now. I couldn’t even let myself imagine the horrors she must have been going through with Salvador.
For the second time, I felt total shame for carving my name into her back. That would bring her so much pain, much more than the pain I had given her. I hoped she wouldn’t be too broken, when and if I found her. I hoped she’d still find that fight inside of her, that courage. I also hoped she wouldn’t let her selflessness kill her, especially not for someone like me, who didn’t deserve an ounce of it.
I wished I had the guts to realize what she had meant to me, back when I could have changed things. Now it was probably too late.
After a while, we came across our first checkpoint. Considering our vehicle and the fact that Greg, a white man, was in the passenger seat, I was certain we were going to be busted by Salvador’s men.
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