The Ides of Matt 2017

Chapter 5

Chapter FiveThe best bastard she’d ever known.

And now he was going to be a dead bastard if she ever got her hands back on him.

Tonight’s plan had sounded so simple as they’d hashed it out. No unconsidered twists and turns. Whatever training Hector had gotten in the US, Alejandra saw it shine out of him. He brought up scenarios and variables like it was fact, not guesswork. His easy confidence had made it comfortable to believe and trust him despite his five-year absence.

She tugged against the heavy ropes tied around her wrists, but all it did was abrade her already sore wrists. His plan had been great—right up to the moment she’d stepped off plan and everything had gone to hell.

“I was not supposed to end up in Miguel Alvarado’s bed, Hector. That was supposed to be a goddamn joke.” But she had. The bedroom in Alvarado’s hacienda was lush. Dark wallpaper, leather and mahogany furniture, a massive California king bed with satin sheets…and a tie-down ring at each corner.

She still had her clothes on, but it was a good bet that wasn’t going to last.

Hector had been careful not to say anything about his life in America, but she’d listened to what he hadn’t said. No mention of wife or kids. No mention of anything except “work”. That’s all he called it: work. Not like it took magic powers to figure out what that meant.

The US didn’t send Border Patrol hombres south of the line. They were tough bastards, but they were strictly by-the-book types. The US military didn’t invade friendly countries. He’d shrugged off Miguel Alvarado’s d**g trafficking the way no DEA agent would and she suspected that if Hector was CIA, he’d feel creepier.

He didn’t. Hector cut a solid, steady hole in the world gone to s**t.

US Special Operations Forces. Green Beret, Ranger…one of those types. Except they’d sent him in on his own. A true specialist. Now she knew how he shot the way he had. Delta Force. No one else operated alone, could do what he did, and made it look so goddamn easy.

He hadn’t just gotten out…he’d gotten way out and done good besides.

Alejandra fought back the burning in her eyes. For some brief fantasy moment, she’d thought there might suddenly be a way out for her as well.

She tugged at the rope, knowing it was futile.

Today had also offered a lousy as s**t lesson about revenge.

Hector had gone for some supplies he’d stashed out of town—and she’d gone for Marina. If she’d laid low, like he’d said, she wouldn’t be here.

Instead, slamming open her sister’s door without knocking, Alejandra had found her with a man, of course. Except this one had Marina gagged and was holding a g*n on her. The wide terror of her sister’s eyes had made Alejandra hesitate for the wrong second.

Someone grabbed her from behind, and before she could fight him off, Marina’s captor had simply c****d the hammer of his pistol and put the barrel against Marina’s temple. Then he’d smiled at Alejandra.

Hector had told her what Miguel Alvarado was now into, cross-border human trafficking for the s*x trade. She wasn’t a damn bit pleased that she and her sister were getting to see that first hand.

The two of them had been herded into an underground holding area with two dozen others. By the light of the lone dim bulb, Alejandra could see enough of their coloring and features to tell that most were Guatemalan or Oaxacan—at least half were underage. Refugees no one would ever miss except for the families back home waiting for news that would never come. In the stuffy, crowded cell, Marina had told her that the man who had captured them had been a pissed off ex-lover, one of Alvarado’s men, who she’d dumped for being too rough.

They were the only locals waiting to be shipped off.

“My timing seriously sucks,” Alejandra looked once more at her reflection in the mirrored ceiling above the bed. Miguel Alvarado was a kinky bastard.

He’d come to survey his “cargo” earlier. He’d merely grunted when he spotted Marina. But when he’d seen Alejandra, his smile had gone evil. That was how she’d ended up tied to his bed.

So much for hope.

Now it was just a question of how awful the ending was going to be.

Any time in the last five years, death wasn’t that unexpected. She’d known her life expectancy in Mexico stank.

But for one brief afternoon, there’d been hope. The loss of that was now doubly devastating.