“I’ve already increased security around Izzy and Jorge. And I’m not taking any precautions with myself either,” he lifts his shirt to reveal the gun tucked into his waistband. “I recommend you do the same with Alexys.”

  Alejandro’s phone rings and he immediately answers and places it on speaker phone. “We’re both here, Raf.”

  “They’re all dead, sirs,” his voice sounds pained as though he has just walked through a gruesome battlefield. “Every last one of them.”

  “Tell all the men. Get their families somewhere safe. Send them all to Isabella’s shelter in Todos Santos. It’s well-guarded.”

  Isabella’s shelter for victims of sex trafficking was never supposed to be a refuge for our business. From the beginning, Alejandro swore to her that it would only be hers; somewhere entirely separate from the seedy side of our lives.

  “She’ll understand,” he mumbles to me.

  Today, while we are at the office, Alejandro and I are both fully focused on observing the Padilla situation in Mexico. We’ve been so busy that I have barely spoken a handful of words to Alexys today, most of which were her transferring calls to my office.

  I need to tell her.

  For now, I’ve been able to keep her busy enough to mean that she took lunch at her desk and will have to stay late to finish everything.

  Both keeping her in this building and within my line of sight.

  “Mr. Ramirez,” Alexys’s professional voice buzzes through my intercom as the sun is setting over the skyline. “There’s a Rafael on hold for you.”

  “Put him through,” I stand from my desk and promptly shut the door.

  “Just a second,” I answer the phone and connect Alejandro.

  “We have a problem,” Rafael is abrupt. “The Los Cangrejos warehouse was just attacked.”

  The phone goes silent for a moment, before Rafael continues, “It gets worse.”

  My cell phone buzzes on my desk and the sound of Alejandro’s dinging comes through the phone call. Opening up the message from Rafael, I’m met with pictures of both Alejandro and me pulled from the Marcano Enterprises website. Both are tacked to the wall of the warehouse. Bloody letters are smeared across them both.

  You’re next.

  “Cerecita,” Alejandro’s voice is laced with terror, and he immediately calls her from his cell phone.

  thirty seven

  ALEXYS

  “Lex,” I look up to find Andres standing in the doorway of his office. “Come stay at my place tonight.”

  “Andres,” I whisper his name in a scolding tone as I walk into his office. “You can’t do that. And really, is that the best line you had for inviting me over?”

  “It’s not like that,” he sounds serious. “I’d feel much better knowing you weren’t alone in your apartment right now.”

  Does he know?

  He couldn’t know…

  “So, you aren’t trying to have sex with me?”

  “I’m being serious, Lex,” his seriousness, coupled with his complete lack of flirtatiousness, is starting to concern me.

  “Tell me why,” I stare up at him, demanding an answer.

  “We’ve been dealing with some serious threats to…” he pauses as though he is trying to find the right words, “to the company. They are determined to take it from us at all costs.”

  “So, um…like a hostile takeover.”

  “Not quite, but yes,” he responds, and I can tell he’s hiding something from me.

  “What you’re saying is that because someone wants your company, you don’t feel comfortable with me being alone at my place, and I need to stay at yours?” I try to repeat this conversation back to him. “That doesn’t even make any sense.”

  He’s about to respond when we’re interrupted by Mr. Marcano. “Andres. I need you in my office.”

  There is no denying the urgency in his voice, but Andres stands fast, determined to finish our conversation.

  “Now,” Mr. Marcano reiterates as he walks from the office door.

  “Two seconds, Alejandro,” Andres calls to him before returning his attention to me, “I have to deal with this. I might be a bit, but please don’t leave. I’ll fill you in on everything when I’m done.”

  He leaves me standing in his office as he follows Mr. Marcano to his, and I stand there wondering what the fuck is going on.

  “He does know that a hostile takeover is just aggressive, not violent, right?” I mumble to myself and roll my eyes.

  It’s nearly eight o’clock. I’m tired, hungry, and dying to get out of these heels. I know it’ll probably piss him off, but I’m going to ignore his request to stick around until whenever it is that he’s free again. Scribbling a note on his desk, I grab my things and head for the elevator.

  Not wanting to walk another step in these heels, let alone all the way to the subway, I hail a cab outside the building to take me home. Andres must really be tied up because I haven’t received a single call or text.

  Once inside my building, I stop for a moment to unfasten and slip off my heels. Taking the six flights barefoot seems like a much better idea. Even without the heels my feet are screaming by the time I reach my apartment. Fumbling for my keys, I open the door and step into the darkness of my apartment.

  I reach for the light switch as I lock the door behind me. Flipping it, the hallway light doesn’t switch on. Using what little light is filtering in through the window, I make my way into the kitchen and press that switch, also to no avail.

  What the hell? I know I paid the bill.

  Stepping into the living room, a deep whisper startles me from the dark, “Welcome home, pretty girl.”

  “Really?” I roll my eyes, “First, my panties. Now my fucking lightbulbs.”

  Walking closer to the direction of the voice, I continue my rant, “Also, pretty girl? How do you go from mi reina to pretty girl?”

  “Mi reina?” the deep voice repeats from the shadows of my apartment with a slight chuckle. “No. I can’t call you that.”

  “And why is that?” I toy with him.

  “Because you definitely aren’t going to be treated like a queen this evening.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Mmhmm,” his voice changes slightly when he responds. “By the end of tonight, pretty girl might not be a suitable name for you either.”

  I take another step and bump into him. His hand immediately grasps my throat, using it as leverage to spin me around and pull me flush against his chest.

  “Do me a favor,” he whispers into my ear while clenching his fingers around my neck. “Make sure you scream for me.”

  The lamp flicks on, and I try to scream, but the grip around my throat is too tight.

  thirty eight

  ANDRES

  In his process of gathering families and touching base with every man who works for us, Rafael found two more massacred families with no husbands to be found.

  Finishing up the call with Rafael, we are relieved to find that the remainder of our cartel members’ families have been moved to the shelter. While it was already well-guarded to protect it from retaliation against skin traders, we’ve made some calls and have increased security three-fold.

  That place is currently like Fort fucking Knox.

  “We’ll call in the morning,” Alejandro hangs up the phone. He no more than sets it down, and it’s ringing again.

  “It’s security,” he says as he presses the speaker phone button, “Marcano.”

  “Sir,” a timid voice comes through the speaker, “I am so sorry to bother you this late, but a messenger just dropped off a package in the lobby. Normally, I would take it to the mailroom, but I know you’re still here, and they said it was urgent.”

  “Bring it up. I’ll be in my office,” he hangs up the phone again.

  He quickly checks in with Izzy at home with their son as we wait for the security guard to bring the box upstairs.

  “All good?” I question.

  “Yes,” he responds.

  The elevator dings, and a moment later a young guy, struggling to carry the large heavy box, stands awkwardly in the doorway, trying to figure out how to knock.

  “Just come the fuck in,” Alejandro growls at him. “Put it on the table.”

  “What the fuck did you order?” I question as the guard leaves us.

  “Nothing that I can recall,” he responds.

  Stepping up to the box, I read the label:

  Urgent Delivery:

  Alejandro Marcano & Andres Ramirez

  “You mind?” I pull the knife from my pocket and flick it open. He nods his head, and I slide the blade through the tape. Flipping open the lid, I find a small note taped to the underside.

  Taking my brother from me was a grave mistake. Consider this your warning that I’m taking everything you care about from you tonight in return.

  – Santino Garcia

  Pulling back the other flap, I reach my hand into the box. Hair tickles my hand and I slowly lift a thoroughly beaten, severed head from the box. While I don’t know his name, I do know that I’ve seen him at one of our warehouses in Mexico.

  Alejandro looks at me, but he doesn’t need to say a word.

  “Go!” I urge. “Go home to take care of Isabella and my nephew.”

  Dropping the head back into the box, I wipe my hand across my pants and call for Alexys. There is no response, just the faint buzz of electronics and the elevator retreating down the shaft.

  “Lex,” I call louder, but still no answer.

  I’m hoping to find her passed out on the couch in my office, but she isn’t there. Instead, I find a note resting on my desk:

  I’m exhausted and heading home. I might be asleep if you guys took a while but give me a call. Unless you want to argue about me not listening, then let me sleep.

  XOXO, Lex.

  Mi reina, so fucking defiant.

  Grabbing my keys and cell phone, I stand at the elevator and repeatedly push the call button as I try to ring Lex. Her phone goes straight through to voicemail four times by the time I make it down to my car in the garage.

  “Come on, mi reina,” I mumble to myself as I pull from the garage. “Answer the fucking phone."

  thirty nine

  ALEXYS

  Trying desperately to scream for help, my eyes lock on the two men standing before me. Both have a sadistic look in their eyes that terrifies me beyond any fear that I have ever known. Pulling my back even tighter to his chest, he continues to withhold my ability to breathe. The man holding me presses his lips to my ear and whispers, “Why aren’t you screaming for me? We prefer it when you whores fight back.”

  His hands roughly rake down my body, and I wince when it grips my pussy over my pants. As he roughly kneads his hand between my thighs, I whimper and tears begin to roll down my cheeks.

  Loosening his hold slightly, he turns my face and aggressively holds it in place as his wet tongue slowly licks up my tears before he groans, “That’s more like it.”

  Gesturing for his friends to come closer, he directs them both, “Get her clothes.”

  They waste no time following his commands. The two of them reach to unfasten my pants as I struggle to free myself from the man behind me, flailing and kicking my legs to keep them away from me. My leg hurls and I manage to catch one of them in the balls, causing him to momentarily double over in pain.

  “Fucking puta,” he groans. Standing, he lifts his arm, swinging it down hard as the back of his hand crashes against my face. I cry out in pain as his spit splatters against my face and into my mouth.

  I involuntarily recoil into the man behind me, and he snarls, “I’m not going to save you, pretty girl.”

  The spitter pulls a knife from the back of his pants and waves it in front of my face, “Fucking kick me again you fucking whore and I’ll make extra holes for our cocks.”

  Continuing to fight violently against them, they rake my pants down my legs.

  “No bragas,” the quiet one looks me over, “maltida puta.”

  “Tu madre,” I spit back at him. I might not know a lot of Spanish but based on the look on his face I apparently know enough.

  His fist drives into my stomach, and I gag as it knocks the wind out of me. Catching my breath, I smirk at him and snarl, “You don’t like that, huh? Maybe we can talk about your abuela next.”

  The next punch lands against my face, causing me to momentarily see stars as I fight against unconsciousness. I fight with everything I have because I refuse to wake up with one of these men slipping inside me when I can’t fight back.

  I’d rather they fucking kill me.

  The spitter with the knife slices through my shirt and bra, dropping the last of my clothes to the floor. Leaving me bare before them. Tears well in my eyes, but I refuse to cry and give them the power that they are seeking.

  “What is it going to take to get you to scream for me?” the vile man behind me hisses in my ear. He holds his free hand out in front of me palm up, and the other man drops his knife into it. Slowly, he drags the tip of the blade along my stomach, leaving a thin bloody trail in its wake. Gritting my teeth, I wince as my skin feels as though it is catching fire.

  Drops of blood trickle down my thighs, and I watch in disgust as the two men in front of me salivate at the sight of it dripping to the floor. A hard dick grinds against my bare ass, and I fight the urge to vomit when he whispers into my ear again, “Our cocks like the sight of your blood. And we plan to have you covered in plenty of it by the time we’re done with you.”

  He roughly throws me toward the floor, and my knees hit the hardwood with a painful thud. Scrambling, I try to get to my feet but a large boot kicks my hip knocking me back to the ground. He kicks again, up under my stomach against the seeping wound. I cry out breathlessly in pain before my body crumples to the floor.

  Splayed on the floor, one of them takes no time to climb on top of me. He tries to pin me down, but I fight against him as though my life depends on it.

  “A little fucking help,” he groans, gripping my hips and tossing my body onto the coffee table. Painfully pinning my hips against the edge, one of his friends grabs my hands and pulls me across the table. Barely able to move beneath them, my hips grind against the lip of the table trying to free myself.

  “If you’re not fucking hard, get the fuck out of my way,” the man, who was holding me, shoves his friend out of the way and makes room for himself to kneel between my knees. “Maybe you’ll scream for me when I take your ass raw. Or maybe it’ll be when we’ve all had our fill and I fuck your worn out cunt with my blade.”

  “We should call her boyfriend and let him listen,” the man holding my hands snickers. “Let him hear her scream while we all use his little whore.”

  One of them rifles through my purse, and I hear the distinct ring of a video call.

  Distracted by the sound of a zipper behind me, I thrash against the table and scream. A hand slides down my spine and he purrs, “That’s a good girl.”

  forty

  ANDRES

  Speeding through the city, I continue to call Lex’s phone. Every call rings through to voicemail.

  Pulling up to the building, I bring the car to a stop partially on the sidewalk before putting it in park, throwing open my car door and pulling on my mask. Racing up the stairwell, I’m rounding the fourth floor when my phone rings. Without stopping, I pull it from my pocket to see Mi Reina on the screen.

  “Thank fucking God,” I exclaim as I answer the phone.

  The video coming through is shaky, but her screams could not be more clear.

  “You’re a fucking dead man,” I snarl.

  Barreling through the fire door of the stairwell on the sixth floor, the camera stills, and I see Lex naked and pinned to the table by two men. She’s desperately fighting against them both.

  Dropping the phone into my pocket without hanging up, I pull the gun from the back of my pants and release the safety. Checking the door with my shoulder, I force my way into her apartment. My entry startles the man holding her hands, she jerks free and sits up. Throwing her head back, she cracks the nose of the man behind her with his cock in his hand.

  Her eyes briefly light up at the sight of me. A light that quickly dims when her hands are grabbed with such force that her head slams into the table beneath her. As her body goes limp, I squeeze three rounds in the man who had the gall to hurt my queen.

  The cameraman lunges toward me, and I shoot him twice at close range in the chest. He drops to the floor and is dead within seconds.

  “Stop right there,” the man between Lex’s thighs grips her hair. Yanking her head back, he holds a knife snugly against her neck. “I’ll slit her fucking throat. Even dead, her cunt will be warm and wet for my cock.”

  Pointing the gun at him, I stand motionless as I contemplate if he would have a chance to kill her if I fired off a round.

  It’s not a chance I’m willing to take.

  “Drop the fucking gun,” he yells as the already bloody blade dimples the skin of her throat.

  Releasing my grip, the gun spins in my palm and I lower it to the ground.

  “Have a seat,” his head gestures toward the chair next to me. “You can watch me fuck her. First with my cock. Then with my knife. If you’re lucky, I’ll let you take one last turn in her bloody cunt before I cut off her pretty little head and fuck her mouth.”

  And I thought I was a sick fuck…

  “Wake up, pretty girl,” his hand repeatedly slaps against her cheek. Her eyelids flutter as she dips in and out of consciousness. “Your boyfriend got here just in time to watch me fuck your ass.”

  Her eyes open and she stares at my masked face, silently pleading for me to save her as she begins to fight off the need to close her eyes again.