Falcon Falls Security Boxed Set: Books 1-3, page 100
Strands of Sydney’s hair clung to the rivulets of sweat sliding down her neck and disappearing into her cleavage. Thank fuck she was still wearing her dress.
“What are you talking about?” she murmured, her eyes fluttering open only to fall closed again.
“Gray. Mya. The others,” Beckett said, his memories slowly floating to the surface. Everyone had been in the SUV, so they must be there somewhere.
Maintaining his hold of Sydney, he slowly turned in a circle and searched the . . . sex dungeon? Velvet couches and club chairs, lavish beds, huge potted plants, bondage equipment, and furniture that would have most likely rivaled the high-end clubs he knew existed in LA.
And was that Oliver and Mya leaning against a red leather wall making out?
No sign of Gray and Camila yet, but they could be hidden by one of the many six-foot-high privacy partitions sectioning off the room.
“I need to stop them before they do something they’ll regret.” Drugged or not, he knew Gray and Oliver would never be able to forgive themselves for having sex while under the influence.
“I’m so confused,” Sydney said as she struggled to find her balance, then he lifted her into his arms.
“Baby,” he said, brushing his lips over hers as she hooked her arms behind his neck, “I need you to fight this. Snap out of it. They drugged us at the club. We’re at Jorge’s.”
He carried her to a nearby black leather sectional and set her down before noticing a wall composed of one giant mirror twenty or so feet away.
Test subjects. They’re watching us, aren’t they? Seeing what the drug does to us.
Beckett peeled Sydney’s arms from around his neck and examined her eyes. Her pupils were fully blown.
She was so much smaller than him, and the wine had hit her hard.
“Stay here,” he ordered, even though her eyes were closed and her head lolled to the side.
Beckett hauled ass over to Oliver, every movement causing intense dizziness. Despite the nausea, he had to keep going.
Oliver had Mya pinned to the wall, her arms stretched above her head, and was holding her wrists together with one hand as they kissed.
“Oliver. Snap. The. Fuck. Out. Of. It,” Beckett hissed, his words falling on deaf ears. “Oliver,” he barked, yanking his arm this time, then discreetly looked over at the mirrored wall. Once whoever was observing noticed Beckett was no longer under the influence of the drug, they may come into the room. In which case they’d all be screwed. “Stop.” He pulled Oliver’s arm harder, forcing him to release Mya’s wrists.
“What the fuck?” Oliver asked, and although confused and still slightly drugged, he had the presence of mind to grab on to Mya as she began to slide down the leather wall.
“The wine was drugged,” Beckett explained, hoping he didn’t need to elaborate with possible eyes on them.
“Fuck.” Oliver blinked and looked at Mya as she grabbed his shirt, drew him back to her, and planted her lips on his. Shit. The drug still seemed to have a solid hold on Oliver, who was eagerly kissing her back.
“Damn it.” Beckett cursed while forcing them apart like two teenagers at a high school dance. They both resisted, trying to keep hold of each other. “I don’t have time for this.” He had to find Gray.
Beckett was on the verge of knocking Oliver unconscious to pull him away when Oliver finally “woke up” again and held his palms in surrender between himself and Mya.
“Shit, this stuff is powerful,” Oliver said. “Why are you okay?”
“I only had one glass. You had—”
“More,” Oliver finished for him, then helped Beckett guide Mya to the couch.
“Stay put. I gotta find Gray,” he ordered as Mya snuggled up next to Oliver, and he pulled her tight to his side. “Don’t touch her.”
“I’m not. Just holding her,” Oliver said, dragging his free hand down his face and nodding. But would he fall victim to the drug again? Beckett wasn’t so sure, so he had to hurry. “And don’t touch her.” He pointed to Sydney. “Or I will kill you.”
Oliver tipped his head and closed one eye. “Roger that,” he said with a nod that wasn’t all that convincing.
Beckett raced through what felt like a maze of debauchery to find Gray and Camila. There was another mirrored section of the wall off to his left and still another one farther down. Jorge needed visual access to multiple vantage points during whatever sex shows he must’ve had performed for him while he watched.
Relief pounded through Beckett at the sight of Gray around the next partition, and the fact he was trying to stop Camila already.
“You’re drugged. We can’t. Stop,” Gray said, struggling to pin her against his frame to stop her from stripping.
“Need a hand?” Beckett called out on approach.
“You still possessed or good?” Gray asked.
“Mostly good,” Beckett returned, thankful Gray was as lucid as he was. He needed all the help he could get.
“Is Sydney—” Gray’s words cut off when Camila lunged forward and kissed him, her hands reaching for his zipper.
Beckett went in for the assist and gently held her wrist, stopping her mid-zip. “Camila,” he began, “you need to try to remember . . .” Was he wasting his words? She looked as possessed as Mya had been. “I have the others on one of the couches. Let’s just bring her there. We can keep an eye on them until we figure out how to get out of here,” he suggested to Gray. “I think I had less wine than you. I’ll carry her. You just keep hold of her hands, so she doesn’t hit me.”
“It was in the wine? That’s how they did it?” Gray cursed as Beckett lifted Camila, who thankfully didn’t try to kiss him. Did that mean the drug only woke up desires already within a person? Did she want Gray?
“I’m assuming so,” Beckett said as he set Camila on the couch beside Sydney, who appeared to be asleep.
“Do you remember what happened tonight?” Gray asked, a hand circling his neck and a haunted look in his eyes.
“Just dancing. I think they were hoping we’d all have sex in here while they watched, but fortunately, that didn’t happen.” Beckett tipped his chin toward the mirrored wall, assuming they still had eyes on them. “Elaina’s instructions to me were to stop when I saw the roses,” he added while gesturing toward the roses lying amid shards of broken glass on the floor.
“Thank God for that,” Gray remarked, dropping alongside Oliver, who was fast asleep with Mya snoozing, her head on his shoulder. “If Miguel’s on the other side of that mirrored wall, then Jesse is too.” He lowered his voice, adding, “He would’ve stopped us from doing something unthinkable if he had to.”
“True.” Beckett sat and pulled Sydney against his exhausted body. “I guess we wait until they decide to come in. But keep our eyes open. I don’t want anyone coming near them.”
“That drug is potent,” Gray whispered a few quiet minutes later.
“Back at the club, I kept thinking someone would take Sydney from me. I wasn’t expecting paranoia to be a side effect.” The fact he shared that with Gray meant the drug was still very much in his system.
Gray’s gaze cut to Camila. “And I can’t believe . . .”
You were making out with her? Before either could continue, a set of double doors leading into the room parted.
Jorge was the first to enter the room, Jesse in the hall behind him. “Nothing to see tonight. Too bad. I was hoping after hours of dancing in here, something more exciting would have transpired. But my men just came to let me know you all seemed to be sleeping instead.”
Dancing for hours? No wonder his body was fatigued. And hell, what time was it?
“Perhaps you’ll all join us for my birthday party tomorrow night. I think you didn’t have quite the right amount of wine to”—Jorge stroked his jaw—“loosen you up enough.”
Jorge wanted to up the dose of the drug and test it on them again? Yeah, fuck you. But if Jorge was going to let them walk out of there alive, that was all that mattered.
“Get some rest. Plenty of beds in here. My men will be back in a few hours to take you all to your hotel.”
How cordial of you, he thought bitterly, as Jorge turned and left without another word.
Jesse caught Beckett’s eyes from the hall before the doors closed, a slight nod from him confirming his, “I’ve got your back.” Beckett trusted his brother-in-law with his sister’s life, so he’d trust him with his own.
Beckett forced himself to stay awake after that, but he was clueless how much time had passed between when Jorge had left, and Oliver woke up.
With Oliver starting to come around, Beckett decided to attempt to revive Sydney while Gray did the same with Camila.
“Sydney,” Beckett said into her ear. “Wake up.” He smoothed the pad of his thumb over her cheek. She moaned and turned her face into his palm and kissed his hand.
“I could love you.” Beckett’s eyes widened at Sydney’s words.
“Sweetheart,” Beckett said after a hard swallow. He leaned in to kiss her like that might break the spell, hating doing it in front of Gray, but at this point, he doubted it mattered.
“Mmmm.” Sydney’s tongue slid between his lips. Yup, she was still in “desire mode.”
“Sydney,” he whispered into her ear again. “You’ve been drugged. We’re at Jorge’s.”
When she went still in his arms, he followed her eyes to the roses on the floor. “Elaina,” she muttered. “She said to stop on the phone today. Or was that yesterday? Did she mean for us to stop? To not . . .”
Have sex. Yeah. Poor kid for having to tell them that too.
“Oh my God.” Mya’s voice snapped Sydney’s attention her way. “Did we . . .?”
“No. None of us did,” Beckett answered, shutting down her alarm.
“Thank fuck.” Oliver shook his head.
“Ah, I see you’re all awake,” a man said a moment later, joining them in the room. Probably one of Jorge’s guards. “Your car is ready.”
Once Sydney was on her feet, he slid a hand around her waist to help her walk. He barely paid attention to their surroundings as they left the room. The damn place was too big. Too bright. Too much gold everywhere. Overall, it was just too Gatsby-like for him to look around without squinting, feeling like it was the sun obstructing his view. But no, it was just gold and glitzy shit everywhere.
Once they were outside, the fresh air was another wake-up call he hadn’t known he needed.
He spotted a black SUV with special tires, the kind that could take a bullet and keep driving. Armored vehicle most likely.
“That’s not your ride. Another guest just pulled in,” the guard told Beckett before pointing to a six-car attached garage. One door lifted, and a similar all-black SUV pulled out a moment later.
Gray helped Camila in the back before taking shotgun. Oliver and Mya climbed into the third row, which left the middle for him and Sydney.
Once he tucked Sydney inside, he turned at the strange feeling of being watched. Eyes were on him, and not from Jorge’s guard.
Beckett looked up at a window over the garage and grabbed the side of the SUV at the sight.
A kid was in the window staring at him. He couldn’t make out much more than that, but . . .
Miles? The idea of driving away from the boy right now was unbearable.
“Hey, I know you.”
Beckett shifted for a better look at the man leaning against the other SUV. Dark hair. Ink covering his exposed skin, forehead as well.
And he wasn’t just any man.
Hector Lopez.
You remember me. Great. His shoulders fell, and when he looked toward the window again, the boy was gone.
“You’re here for her, aren’t you?” Hector asked.
“Get them out of here,” Beckett whispered before he slammed the door shut and turned his attention to the new problem at hand. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Beckett answered Hector as casually as possible, hoping to buy Gray some time to knock out the driver and take over the wheel.
Hector waved his finger in the air and reached for his gun at his hip. “I never forget a face. Stop the others!” he shouted as the SUV started to move.
Hector rushed Beckett, setting his gun at Beckett’s temple while demanding he lower himself to the ground.
Beckett followed orders, his heart in his throat when he stole another look at the window to see the boy there watching again.
“What’s going on?” he overheard someone ask, coming from the direction of the house. When Beckett forced his gaze away from the boy, he found Miguel and Jorge exiting alongside Jesse.
“Stop them at the gate. They’re getting away,” Hector shouted before switching to Spanish and barking orders to one of the guards already speaking into his comm unit, most likely to one of the guard towers near the exit.
An unexpected explosion rocked the ground, and thank God, the SUV hadn’t been hit. From Beckett’s vantage point, it was the first guard station by the main gate in the distance.
Then the second tower burst into flames a moment later.
Carter. He had to be out there. He must have had them followed from the hotel to Jorge’s last night. Sydney will be safe.
“They must have backup. Who the hell are they?” Jorge asked, approaching where Beckett remained on his knees, hands behind his head. He crouched before Beckett, and Beckett knew this was going to be hard for Jesse to watch, but as long as Sydney and the others made it out safely and someone could save Miles . . . he’d take every punch or bullet he had to.
When Beckett remained quiet, Jorge ordered two of his men to secure Beckett’s arms. “Who am I?” Beckett finally asked, faking a laugh after another one of Jorge’s men clocked him across the jaw. Maybe it was the drug. Or he was just pissed. But Beckett rasped, “El Diablo. And I’m here to take you back to Hell.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
“Beckett, wake up.”
Beckett groaned and clutched his ribs, trying to remember what happened and why he was in so much pain. “Sydney?” He reached out in search of her, eyes still locked shut. Why’d his face hurt so damn badly? “You okay? Tell me you’re okay.”
“It’s me. It’s Cora.”
The voice. The name. Beckett fought through the mental fog and opened his eyes.
He squinted against the harsh sunlight streaming through a window opposite where he sat. I’m on the ground. Where? “Cora?”
“Yes, it’s me. Did Ivy find you?”
His stomach turned as he sought to visually locate the woman who kept screwing with his life. “Cora,” he repeated.
He felt a hand on his shoulder. He’d need to turn his head to see her, but every part of his face hurt after Jorge’s men had punched him repeatedly on the driveway to the point of blacking out.
And now I’m here with Cora. Or am I dead? Is this purgatory? My hell is to be stuck with her.
“Please tell me you brought help. I—I heard the explosions outside. Saw the two guard towers blow up. Tell me you have friends out there who will rescue us,” she rushed out.
“Not alone,” he mumbled, grabbing hold of his side again. Squinting through the pain, Beckett opened his eyes and took in Cora for the first time in six years. The black eye and swollen cheek were a clear indication she’d not been living in the lap of luxury, at least not lately. “I’m not dead, right?”
“No, but we will be if we’re not rescued soon. When Jorge dumped you in here, he informed me I’m being traded to the cartel tomorrow,” she explained in a shaky voice, brushing her long, dark hair away from her face, exposing more bruises on her throat.
He may have hated Cora, but no woman, regardless of circumstance, should ever be abused, and it pained him to see her bruises. “How long have you been in here?”
“A few weeks, I think. Ever since they grabbed me from my bedroom the day I called you. Hector told Jorge he knew me from LA, and I was a con artist. That I betrayed their guys, and it was why Hector went to prison.”
“You didn’t betray them,” Beckett bit out. “Just betrayed me.” When she kept quiet, he asked, “Why’d they put us together?” He coughed up blood and spat it to the side.
“Probably to torture us.”
“Yeah, putting me with you is torture,” he drawled, unable to stop himself from speaking the truth. Maybe that was still the side effects of the drug talking, or he really was just done with her bullshit.
“I meant that he’ll probably send someone in here to beat you in front of me. Make me watch.”
“Tell me they didn’t . . . hurt your son?”
“No, but I was forced to watch while they tortured and murdered his father, Daniel.” She pointed to the blood-stained wall across the room. Beckett looked up at the chains hanging from the ceiling. “Wait, Ivy told you about Miles?”
“Yeah, Ivy said something.” To Jesse, not me.
“Jorge blamed Miles’s father for allowing himself to be duped by me. Letting me in their lives for nearly six years. And as part of his security team, he believed Daniel should have vetted me more thoroughly.”
“Men have a habit of doing that around you,” he bit out, letting go of his ribs with a wince.
Beckett dragged in a deep, painful breath and slowly expelled it through his nostrils, then tried to get his brain to work. Figure out his next steps. Carter and Camila’s men had to have been outside Jorge’s estate that morning, clearly prepared for shit to go down if they took out the guard towers at the front gates.
Beckett hoped he wasn’t wrong to assume Sydney and the others escaped.
“You didn’t want me to know about Miles. You didn’t want McKenna to know she had a brother, did you?” he accused.
Cora leaned back and stretched her legs out in front of her, eyes going back to the blood-stained wall. She was wearing a khaki jumpsuit like prisoners wore, and Beckett wondered if that’d been Hector’s suggestion. A little payback since Hector incorrectly assumed she’d helped put him behind bars thirteen years ago. “You’d want Miles in McKenna’s life. I know you. And that wasn’t a possibility given my situation.”
