Dark Sins, page 11
He shrugs a wide shoulder. “Any guy in good shape should be able to lift 100 pounds more than his body weight. I’m in a little better shape than most guys, I guess,” he says.
“I’d say so, He-Man. Geez.”
He laughs.
There it is. I smile, glad to see him warming up to me again. It’s going to take some work and time, but I’m going to come in like a wrecking ball and knock down those damn walls of his once and for all.
As we walk down the street, I notice what looks like a farmer’s market going on down an alley. “Let’s go get something to eat,” I suggest, eyeing all the fresh fruit, vegetables and other goodies.
We turn and make our way into the alley full of endless stalls and vendors. It’s crowded with locals and some tourists. It doesn’t take me long to spot some type of yummy-looking cookie. “Ooh, look,” I say and drag him over.
“I think you can sniff a sweet out a mile away,” he says and smiles.
“You better believe it,” I answer, checking out the stall with what the woman tells me are obleas. The paper thin wafers are filled with arequipe, some kind of caramel, and she adds a little strawberry jam on it.
We both get a couple and Ryker pays her. I waste no time taking a bite and it’s sugary heaven. “Oh, wow, delish,” I say. We continue through the crowd and I check out a table full of black pottery.
A couple stalls over, I admire some bright-colored shawls and swipe up a sombrero. I put it on and pose. “You should definitely get one,” I tell Ryker and hand him the black and white hat. He sets it on his head and the vendor and I laugh.
“El sombrero vueltiado is a macho symbol of Colombia,” the vendor says.
“Well, no one is more macho than this guy,” I say. A blush rises in Ryker’s cheeks and it’s too adorable. “Mi hombre es muy guapo, ¿no?”
“Si, señorita. Grande y fuerte.”
I buy the hats.
“Your Spanish is impressive,” Ryker says, pulling the sombrero off, as we walk away.
“Gracias,” I say.
“Ever going to let me know what you’re saying?” he asks.
“Posible,” I answer with a sly smile. “Oh, look!” I point to a table with emeralds on display. “These can’t be real,” I say under my breath.
“You can buy emeralds all over Columbia. They may not be great quality, but probably straight out of a local mine.” His whisky-colored gaze dips and meets mine. “Want one?” he asks.
I realize he’s serious. But, then, I spot a cart with dark Columbian chocolate bars and that’s more up my alley. “I’d rather have some of those,” I say and head over.
Ryker laughs and trails over behind me. “Only you would choose chocolate over emeralds, Ave,” he says.
“Leave me and my sweet tooth alone,” I say over my shoulder.
We pick out a few different bars to take home and, while he’s paying, I wander past a stall selling frozen fruit juice pulp. It all looks so good. Across the way, I see some coffee and know we have to take some of that home, too.
While I look at the different flavors, I hear someone come up beside me and I turn, assuming it’s Ryker. “Look,” I say. “They have chocolate-flavored-”
The jolt drops me to my knees. It feels like needles stabbing through my side when the stun gun touches me. Then, I feel myself being tossed over a shoulder and spirited away, down the rest of the alley and around the corner.
I want to call for Ryker, but I can’t find my voice. A bag drops over my head and someone secures my hands with a zip tie before tossing me into the back of a vehicle.
Oh, my God.
By the time I get some mobility back in my stunned muscles, it’s too late. I’m bouncing around in the back of the van, on my way to only God knows where.
I’m being kidnapped, I realize.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryker
As I pay for the chocolate bars, I glance over my shoulder and see Avery pause at a booth that sells coffee. Columbian coffee is some of the best in the world, so we will definitely need to get some to take home. I thank the vendor, add the chocolate to the bag of souvenirs that’s getting heavier and turn around.
I start walking across the alley, my gaze searching for Avery’s blonde head. She sticks out like a sore thumb so when I don’t immediately see her, I frown. Where did she go now? I wonder and start walking down further.
Probably sniffed out some more sweets, I think and can’t help but smile.
But, then I catch sight of her blonde head and my heart sinks in dread. She’s hanging over some man’s shoulder and he’s moving fast. I drop our souvenirs and take off, running after them at full speed. At the end of the alley, I spin around the corner.
Two white vans idle at the curb. No one is around and suddenly one of the vans peels off, tires smoking.
No. Even though I can’t see her, I know they have Avery.
The moment I start running after the first van, the other van’s back doors swing open and two masked men jump out, blocking my path.
I skid to a halt and they immediately pounce. But, I’m ready. The first man throws himself into me and I stumble backwards, slamming into a dumpster. I drive my knee up into his gut and, as he drops, the second man attacks.
I manage to throw a punch before the fucker on the ground pulls out a taser. I see it a moment too late and he pulls the trigger. When the volts hit me, it’s like a thousand knives stabbing into my leg and I drop. He doesn’t let up, making sure I stay down, and Christ, it hurts. Every muscle in my body spasms then refuses to move.
I struggle to get up, but my mind and muscles just won’t connect. The two masked men each grab one of my arms, yank me up and throw me into the back of the van. As it takes off, the fucker with the taser hits me again and all I can do is roll onto my back and groan.
Helpless, I watch as they zip tie my hands and then pull a bag over my head.
I’m not sure how long we drive. Forty-five minutes, maybe, but I’m guessing we’re heading into the jungle because the road gets rougher, no longer paved like in the city, and every so often, I can hear leaves and branches brush against the vehicle.
My mind and muscles start to feel normal again and I wonder where the hell they’re taking me. I’m assuming Avery and I are being taken by the same men and to the same place, but as of now, I don’t know anything for sure.
Why did they target us? And, who exactly took us? I don’t think they were just out to kidnap a couple of random tourists. Something more nefarious is happening.
I need to figure out a way to escape. When I pull myself up into a sitting position, a voice yells, “No te muevas!”
I may not speak Spanish, but I know when someone orders me not to move. I lean back against the van wall and patiently bide my time. Right now I’m at a huge disadvantage because I can’t see what the hell is going on around me. Eventually, though, they’re going to take the bag off my head and I’ll be ready to strike.
Finally, the van stops. I hear some quick exchanges in Spanish and I wish I knew what they were saying. I’m not fluent like Avery, but I do catch a couple of words-- el jefe which means the boss and la mujer which means the woman.
Is Avery the woman they’re talking about? God, I hope so.
I can’t see what the hell is going on, but the back doors of the van open and someone yanks me out. My captor shoves the barrel of a gun into my temple and, in accented English, says, “Move it, gringo.”
Then, he shoves a hand into my back and I stumble forward. I walk, trying to look down and see something, but the bag is pulled tightly closed. The asshole doesn’t warn me about the stairs and I trip, slamming my knees into the tiles. “Fucker,” I hiss.
The pistol slams against the back of my head for my little comment and stars flash in the blackness all around me. I force myself to stay upright, though, and take one step at a time. Hopefully, closer to Avery.
We walk down a long hallway, take a couple of turns and then he shoves me into a room. It’s quiet, except for the sound of birds outside, and a hand pushes me down into a chair. The bag is ripped off my head and I look around. I’m in a library with a desk and built-in bookshelves fill each wall.
My captor is a big guy, a little shorter than me, but heavier around the midsection. He’s definitely enjoyed too many obleas smothered in strawberry jam. He holds a SIG Sauer P228 and has a mean face with a heavy brow. “You will stay here until El Jefe is ready.”
“Who’s your boss?” I ask.
“No questions.”
I want to know if they have Avery here, but I bite my tongue. The last thing I want to reveal is that I care about her and how much she means to me. I’m not about to give them any ammunition to use against me.
I know how to keep my mouth shut and hold up under duress in a torture-like situation. But, if they threaten Avery, all bets are off.
I close my eyes, pretending my head still hurts from getting hit in the back of the head, but, really, I’m picturing the drawings of Castillo’s compound from Gray. Mentally, I compare the images with the walk I just took, counting steps, doorways and turns that we took.
It matches up exactly with how I remember the drawings.
Shit. I had planned to break in here and now here I am. At least I’m pretty sure I’m in Castillo’s compound. Very discreetly, I pull at the zip tie, testing the tightness, and think about the knife in my boot.
I can get out of my bindings in a second and escape this place in a heartbeat, but I’m not in that big of a hurry. Besides, if Avery is here, I’m not leaving without her.
More than anything, I’m curious. I want to know why I’m here and I want to talk to El Jefe because that can only be one person.
It has to be Antonio Castillo.
I thought he was out in the jungle somewhere fighting his rival drug lords, but it seems he’s back. How in the hell does he know about us? Then, I think back to our meeting with Gray. I don’t know him, but I’m pretty positive that Gray isn’t the traitor.
It was someone in the bar, El Serpiente, who must’ve seen us or overheard part of our conversation. I’m sure Castillo has informants all over the place and probably shares a nice reward with them when they give him intel on enemies.
Just like he did with Valkyrie.
I don’t want Castillo to know we’re looking for information on Operation Armageddon and Valkyrie. If he thinks we’re connected to the CIA or SEALs, we’re not getting out of here alive.
Because men like Castillo think they’re above the law and that they can murder anyone who gets in their way. They thrive on their power and believe they’re invincible. Their egos are enormous and they’re used to getting them stroked by their score of underlings.
After waiting almost another half an hour, the door finally opens and I get my first up close look at Antonio Castillo, the drug king of Columbia. The man I was tasked to take down two years ago and failed. The man who had my entire team slaughtered.
He looks me over with dark eyes that look black as sin. He’s not very tall, has a thick mustache and wears some kind of khaki uniform. I guess from his faux military group.
It takes every ounce of strength within me to keep my expression neutral, but inside I’m seething. This asshole is responsible for the death of thousands of people via his paramilitary force, UFOC, and he supplies terrorists with military-grade weapons.
I want this fucker to go down.
I keep my breathing even, my face expressionless. The problem is this guy’s like a snake who disappears in his jungle camouflage at the first sign of trouble. Just like the Taliban who hides in their mountain caves. But, I’m coming in with a daisy cutter and I’m going to flatten his whole fucking operation. Blow it up and clear out this whole section of jungle til there’s nothing left but dirt.
“Who are you?” Castillo asks. “And, why are you meeting with a former CIA agent?”
I merely raise a brow.
“I know all about Grayson Shaw and his dead little sister. He’s been a thorn in my side for years, but one of these days I’ll finish him off. In the meantime, though, I have an empire to run.”
“I know all about your empire,” I say with a note of disgust.
“And, what do you know?”
I clamp my jaw together.
Castillo takes a step closer, eyes squinting at me. “Who are you, gringo?”
I don’t say a word, just meet his gaze.
“I’m trying to be civil. Treat you like a proper guest. But understand, I do have ways to make you talk.”
“I’m curious,” I say and he narrows his snake-like eyes. “Why’d you come back here and question me yourself?”
“Because Ryker Flynn,” he says and holds up the driver’s license that was in my wallet, “I want to know why you’re down here meeting with a former CIA agent, asking questions about me.”
Shit.
“Maybe we should go ask your pretty blonde companion,” he says with a nasty smile. “She may be more willing to talk than you.”
I maintain my stoic look as best as I can even though I’m freaking out inside. Oh, God, he better not lay a hand on Avery or I’m going to kill him, I think.
Castillo pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his teeth. He seems to be weighing his options. “Let’s go,” he says and motions to his guard.
The goon yanks me up out of the chair and guides me out into the hallway. We walk down to another section of the house and I’m glad it’s farther away so I can check out the other rooms, the general layout, taking inventory of all exits points.
When we reach a room at the back of the house, a guard unlocks the door and ushers me inside. I immediately see Avery in a chair, also zip tied. Thank God. Happiness flares in her eyes when she sees me, but I give her a discreet look, hoping that she will keep quiet and not reveal anything.
The guard shoves me down into the chair next to Avery. I try not to pay too much attention to her, but I give her a quick once-over and she appears unharmed. Nearby, Castillo lights his cigar up and takes a couple of puffs. He looks from me to Avery and then back again.
“So, Mr. Flynn, is this your amor?”
I ignore his question. Just like all the others.
Castillo turns his attention to Avery. “And, what is your name, hermosa?”
“Avery Archer,” she answers, looking him straight in the eye. Her voice sounds strong and unwavering, and I’ve never been more proud.
That’s my girl, I think.
“What exactly are you and Mr. Flynn doing in Columbia?” Castillo takes another puff of his cigar.
“Oh, you know. Just a little vacation.”
Castillo strokes his mustache, then says, “I’m getting that feeling I get when someone is lying to me.” His eyes narrow and he stoops down so he and Avery are face to face. “Are you lying to me, Señorita Archer?” Castillo asks.
Oh, shit.
Chapter Seventeen
Avery
Oh, shit, I think. But, I hold Antonio Castillo’s gaze and don’t falter. With bad guys like this, it’s important to always look calm and in control. Even when you’re not.
No fear, Ave.
“No,” I say, keeping my voice even. But, he doesn’t look convinced.
“Hmm,” he says and wanders over to the other side of the room. “And, I suppose Grayson Shaw is just an old friend who you wanted to catch up with, no?
For the first time, I notice several covered stands on the far wall. Antonio runs his hand along the black cover that hides whatever is beneath and I feel the first tinge of unease.
“Are you familiar with any of the exotic creatures that thrive down here in the Columbian jungles?” he asks.
“Not specifically,” I say. Beside me, Ryker shifts in his chair and I know the knife is in his boot. If we can just get Castillo to leave then we’d have a chance to escape.
“Well, then let me introduce you to some of my favorites.” Castillo pulls the cover and I see several glass aquariums. In the first one is a coiled snake. “This is the Bothrops asper, also commonly called the equis snake because of the “X” pattern of its scales. It’s a member of the pit viper family,” he says.
I’m not feeling good about his collection of dangerous animals and I swallow hard.
“It has a deadly reputation and is extremely unpredictable. Would you like a closer look, Señorita Archer?”
“No, thank you,” I say.
Castillo chuckles and moves on to another aquarium. This one holds a large brown spider. “The brown recluse,” he says. “They can give you a nasty, toxic bite.”
I tilt my head and eye the big spider. I remember learning a little about them when my Dad discovered a few hundred living in a wood pile in our backyard in Ohio. Their bite can make you feel pretty sick, but rarely kills. I’d rather take my chances with the creature I know is less dangerous, I think.
Castillo moves to the last aquarium where a tiny yellow frog sits. It looks harmless, even kind of cute, but I’m sure it’s not as innocent as it looks. “And, finally, the golden dart frog.” A cruel smile curves his mouth. “This tiny frog is the world’s most poisonous animal. It carries enough poison in its skin to kill up to 20 humans just by touch alone.”
I squirm in the chair, pulling at the zip tie around my wrists, but to no avail. The plastic just cuts into my skin, leaving deep red marks that are on the verge of bleeding.
“So, now I’m going to ask you one last time. Why were you meeting Grayson Shaw?”
Neither of us says a word.
I think the perverse side in Castillo is glad because now he gets to call his guard forward and begin the threats.
I’m ready for him, though.
“String him up,” he orders.
No. Not Ryker. String me up instead, I want to yell.
But, the guard grabs him, pops up on a chair, and hitches his bound wrists high above his head, up on a metal hook attached to the ceiling. Ryker’s long body stretches to its limit and he’s practically on the balls of his feet.
“I’d say so, He-Man. Geez.”
He laughs.
There it is. I smile, glad to see him warming up to me again. It’s going to take some work and time, but I’m going to come in like a wrecking ball and knock down those damn walls of his once and for all.
As we walk down the street, I notice what looks like a farmer’s market going on down an alley. “Let’s go get something to eat,” I suggest, eyeing all the fresh fruit, vegetables and other goodies.
We turn and make our way into the alley full of endless stalls and vendors. It’s crowded with locals and some tourists. It doesn’t take me long to spot some type of yummy-looking cookie. “Ooh, look,” I say and drag him over.
“I think you can sniff a sweet out a mile away,” he says and smiles.
“You better believe it,” I answer, checking out the stall with what the woman tells me are obleas. The paper thin wafers are filled with arequipe, some kind of caramel, and she adds a little strawberry jam on it.
We both get a couple and Ryker pays her. I waste no time taking a bite and it’s sugary heaven. “Oh, wow, delish,” I say. We continue through the crowd and I check out a table full of black pottery.
A couple stalls over, I admire some bright-colored shawls and swipe up a sombrero. I put it on and pose. “You should definitely get one,” I tell Ryker and hand him the black and white hat. He sets it on his head and the vendor and I laugh.
“El sombrero vueltiado is a macho symbol of Colombia,” the vendor says.
“Well, no one is more macho than this guy,” I say. A blush rises in Ryker’s cheeks and it’s too adorable. “Mi hombre es muy guapo, ¿no?”
“Si, señorita. Grande y fuerte.”
I buy the hats.
“Your Spanish is impressive,” Ryker says, pulling the sombrero off, as we walk away.
“Gracias,” I say.
“Ever going to let me know what you’re saying?” he asks.
“Posible,” I answer with a sly smile. “Oh, look!” I point to a table with emeralds on display. “These can’t be real,” I say under my breath.
“You can buy emeralds all over Columbia. They may not be great quality, but probably straight out of a local mine.” His whisky-colored gaze dips and meets mine. “Want one?” he asks.
I realize he’s serious. But, then, I spot a cart with dark Columbian chocolate bars and that’s more up my alley. “I’d rather have some of those,” I say and head over.
Ryker laughs and trails over behind me. “Only you would choose chocolate over emeralds, Ave,” he says.
“Leave me and my sweet tooth alone,” I say over my shoulder.
We pick out a few different bars to take home and, while he’s paying, I wander past a stall selling frozen fruit juice pulp. It all looks so good. Across the way, I see some coffee and know we have to take some of that home, too.
While I look at the different flavors, I hear someone come up beside me and I turn, assuming it’s Ryker. “Look,” I say. “They have chocolate-flavored-”
The jolt drops me to my knees. It feels like needles stabbing through my side when the stun gun touches me. Then, I feel myself being tossed over a shoulder and spirited away, down the rest of the alley and around the corner.
I want to call for Ryker, but I can’t find my voice. A bag drops over my head and someone secures my hands with a zip tie before tossing me into the back of a vehicle.
Oh, my God.
By the time I get some mobility back in my stunned muscles, it’s too late. I’m bouncing around in the back of the van, on my way to only God knows where.
I’m being kidnapped, I realize.
Chapter Sixteen
Ryker
As I pay for the chocolate bars, I glance over my shoulder and see Avery pause at a booth that sells coffee. Columbian coffee is some of the best in the world, so we will definitely need to get some to take home. I thank the vendor, add the chocolate to the bag of souvenirs that’s getting heavier and turn around.
I start walking across the alley, my gaze searching for Avery’s blonde head. She sticks out like a sore thumb so when I don’t immediately see her, I frown. Where did she go now? I wonder and start walking down further.
Probably sniffed out some more sweets, I think and can’t help but smile.
But, then I catch sight of her blonde head and my heart sinks in dread. She’s hanging over some man’s shoulder and he’s moving fast. I drop our souvenirs and take off, running after them at full speed. At the end of the alley, I spin around the corner.
Two white vans idle at the curb. No one is around and suddenly one of the vans peels off, tires smoking.
No. Even though I can’t see her, I know they have Avery.
The moment I start running after the first van, the other van’s back doors swing open and two masked men jump out, blocking my path.
I skid to a halt and they immediately pounce. But, I’m ready. The first man throws himself into me and I stumble backwards, slamming into a dumpster. I drive my knee up into his gut and, as he drops, the second man attacks.
I manage to throw a punch before the fucker on the ground pulls out a taser. I see it a moment too late and he pulls the trigger. When the volts hit me, it’s like a thousand knives stabbing into my leg and I drop. He doesn’t let up, making sure I stay down, and Christ, it hurts. Every muscle in my body spasms then refuses to move.
I struggle to get up, but my mind and muscles just won’t connect. The two masked men each grab one of my arms, yank me up and throw me into the back of the van. As it takes off, the fucker with the taser hits me again and all I can do is roll onto my back and groan.
Helpless, I watch as they zip tie my hands and then pull a bag over my head.
I’m not sure how long we drive. Forty-five minutes, maybe, but I’m guessing we’re heading into the jungle because the road gets rougher, no longer paved like in the city, and every so often, I can hear leaves and branches brush against the vehicle.
My mind and muscles start to feel normal again and I wonder where the hell they’re taking me. I’m assuming Avery and I are being taken by the same men and to the same place, but as of now, I don’t know anything for sure.
Why did they target us? And, who exactly took us? I don’t think they were just out to kidnap a couple of random tourists. Something more nefarious is happening.
I need to figure out a way to escape. When I pull myself up into a sitting position, a voice yells, “No te muevas!”
I may not speak Spanish, but I know when someone orders me not to move. I lean back against the van wall and patiently bide my time. Right now I’m at a huge disadvantage because I can’t see what the hell is going on around me. Eventually, though, they’re going to take the bag off my head and I’ll be ready to strike.
Finally, the van stops. I hear some quick exchanges in Spanish and I wish I knew what they were saying. I’m not fluent like Avery, but I do catch a couple of words-- el jefe which means the boss and la mujer which means the woman.
Is Avery the woman they’re talking about? God, I hope so.
I can’t see what the hell is going on, but the back doors of the van open and someone yanks me out. My captor shoves the barrel of a gun into my temple and, in accented English, says, “Move it, gringo.”
Then, he shoves a hand into my back and I stumble forward. I walk, trying to look down and see something, but the bag is pulled tightly closed. The asshole doesn’t warn me about the stairs and I trip, slamming my knees into the tiles. “Fucker,” I hiss.
The pistol slams against the back of my head for my little comment and stars flash in the blackness all around me. I force myself to stay upright, though, and take one step at a time. Hopefully, closer to Avery.
We walk down a long hallway, take a couple of turns and then he shoves me into a room. It’s quiet, except for the sound of birds outside, and a hand pushes me down into a chair. The bag is ripped off my head and I look around. I’m in a library with a desk and built-in bookshelves fill each wall.
My captor is a big guy, a little shorter than me, but heavier around the midsection. He’s definitely enjoyed too many obleas smothered in strawberry jam. He holds a SIG Sauer P228 and has a mean face with a heavy brow. “You will stay here until El Jefe is ready.”
“Who’s your boss?” I ask.
“No questions.”
I want to know if they have Avery here, but I bite my tongue. The last thing I want to reveal is that I care about her and how much she means to me. I’m not about to give them any ammunition to use against me.
I know how to keep my mouth shut and hold up under duress in a torture-like situation. But, if they threaten Avery, all bets are off.
I close my eyes, pretending my head still hurts from getting hit in the back of the head, but, really, I’m picturing the drawings of Castillo’s compound from Gray. Mentally, I compare the images with the walk I just took, counting steps, doorways and turns that we took.
It matches up exactly with how I remember the drawings.
Shit. I had planned to break in here and now here I am. At least I’m pretty sure I’m in Castillo’s compound. Very discreetly, I pull at the zip tie, testing the tightness, and think about the knife in my boot.
I can get out of my bindings in a second and escape this place in a heartbeat, but I’m not in that big of a hurry. Besides, if Avery is here, I’m not leaving without her.
More than anything, I’m curious. I want to know why I’m here and I want to talk to El Jefe because that can only be one person.
It has to be Antonio Castillo.
I thought he was out in the jungle somewhere fighting his rival drug lords, but it seems he’s back. How in the hell does he know about us? Then, I think back to our meeting with Gray. I don’t know him, but I’m pretty positive that Gray isn’t the traitor.
It was someone in the bar, El Serpiente, who must’ve seen us or overheard part of our conversation. I’m sure Castillo has informants all over the place and probably shares a nice reward with them when they give him intel on enemies.
Just like he did with Valkyrie.
I don’t want Castillo to know we’re looking for information on Operation Armageddon and Valkyrie. If he thinks we’re connected to the CIA or SEALs, we’re not getting out of here alive.
Because men like Castillo think they’re above the law and that they can murder anyone who gets in their way. They thrive on their power and believe they’re invincible. Their egos are enormous and they’re used to getting them stroked by their score of underlings.
After waiting almost another half an hour, the door finally opens and I get my first up close look at Antonio Castillo, the drug king of Columbia. The man I was tasked to take down two years ago and failed. The man who had my entire team slaughtered.
He looks me over with dark eyes that look black as sin. He’s not very tall, has a thick mustache and wears some kind of khaki uniform. I guess from his faux military group.
It takes every ounce of strength within me to keep my expression neutral, but inside I’m seething. This asshole is responsible for the death of thousands of people via his paramilitary force, UFOC, and he supplies terrorists with military-grade weapons.
I want this fucker to go down.
I keep my breathing even, my face expressionless. The problem is this guy’s like a snake who disappears in his jungle camouflage at the first sign of trouble. Just like the Taliban who hides in their mountain caves. But, I’m coming in with a daisy cutter and I’m going to flatten his whole fucking operation. Blow it up and clear out this whole section of jungle til there’s nothing left but dirt.
“Who are you?” Castillo asks. “And, why are you meeting with a former CIA agent?”
I merely raise a brow.
“I know all about Grayson Shaw and his dead little sister. He’s been a thorn in my side for years, but one of these days I’ll finish him off. In the meantime, though, I have an empire to run.”
“I know all about your empire,” I say with a note of disgust.
“And, what do you know?”
I clamp my jaw together.
Castillo takes a step closer, eyes squinting at me. “Who are you, gringo?”
I don’t say a word, just meet his gaze.
“I’m trying to be civil. Treat you like a proper guest. But understand, I do have ways to make you talk.”
“I’m curious,” I say and he narrows his snake-like eyes. “Why’d you come back here and question me yourself?”
“Because Ryker Flynn,” he says and holds up the driver’s license that was in my wallet, “I want to know why you’re down here meeting with a former CIA agent, asking questions about me.”
Shit.
“Maybe we should go ask your pretty blonde companion,” he says with a nasty smile. “She may be more willing to talk than you.”
I maintain my stoic look as best as I can even though I’m freaking out inside. Oh, God, he better not lay a hand on Avery or I’m going to kill him, I think.
Castillo pulls out a cigar and clamps it between his teeth. He seems to be weighing his options. “Let’s go,” he says and motions to his guard.
The goon yanks me up out of the chair and guides me out into the hallway. We walk down to another section of the house and I’m glad it’s farther away so I can check out the other rooms, the general layout, taking inventory of all exits points.
When we reach a room at the back of the house, a guard unlocks the door and ushers me inside. I immediately see Avery in a chair, also zip tied. Thank God. Happiness flares in her eyes when she sees me, but I give her a discreet look, hoping that she will keep quiet and not reveal anything.
The guard shoves me down into the chair next to Avery. I try not to pay too much attention to her, but I give her a quick once-over and she appears unharmed. Nearby, Castillo lights his cigar up and takes a couple of puffs. He looks from me to Avery and then back again.
“So, Mr. Flynn, is this your amor?”
I ignore his question. Just like all the others.
Castillo turns his attention to Avery. “And, what is your name, hermosa?”
“Avery Archer,” she answers, looking him straight in the eye. Her voice sounds strong and unwavering, and I’ve never been more proud.
That’s my girl, I think.
“What exactly are you and Mr. Flynn doing in Columbia?” Castillo takes another puff of his cigar.
“Oh, you know. Just a little vacation.”
Castillo strokes his mustache, then says, “I’m getting that feeling I get when someone is lying to me.” His eyes narrow and he stoops down so he and Avery are face to face. “Are you lying to me, Señorita Archer?” Castillo asks.
Oh, shit.
Chapter Seventeen
Avery
Oh, shit, I think. But, I hold Antonio Castillo’s gaze and don’t falter. With bad guys like this, it’s important to always look calm and in control. Even when you’re not.
No fear, Ave.
“No,” I say, keeping my voice even. But, he doesn’t look convinced.
“Hmm,” he says and wanders over to the other side of the room. “And, I suppose Grayson Shaw is just an old friend who you wanted to catch up with, no?
For the first time, I notice several covered stands on the far wall. Antonio runs his hand along the black cover that hides whatever is beneath and I feel the first tinge of unease.
“Are you familiar with any of the exotic creatures that thrive down here in the Columbian jungles?” he asks.
“Not specifically,” I say. Beside me, Ryker shifts in his chair and I know the knife is in his boot. If we can just get Castillo to leave then we’d have a chance to escape.
“Well, then let me introduce you to some of my favorites.” Castillo pulls the cover and I see several glass aquariums. In the first one is a coiled snake. “This is the Bothrops asper, also commonly called the equis snake because of the “X” pattern of its scales. It’s a member of the pit viper family,” he says.
I’m not feeling good about his collection of dangerous animals and I swallow hard.
“It has a deadly reputation and is extremely unpredictable. Would you like a closer look, Señorita Archer?”
“No, thank you,” I say.
Castillo chuckles and moves on to another aquarium. This one holds a large brown spider. “The brown recluse,” he says. “They can give you a nasty, toxic bite.”
I tilt my head and eye the big spider. I remember learning a little about them when my Dad discovered a few hundred living in a wood pile in our backyard in Ohio. Their bite can make you feel pretty sick, but rarely kills. I’d rather take my chances with the creature I know is less dangerous, I think.
Castillo moves to the last aquarium where a tiny yellow frog sits. It looks harmless, even kind of cute, but I’m sure it’s not as innocent as it looks. “And, finally, the golden dart frog.” A cruel smile curves his mouth. “This tiny frog is the world’s most poisonous animal. It carries enough poison in its skin to kill up to 20 humans just by touch alone.”
I squirm in the chair, pulling at the zip tie around my wrists, but to no avail. The plastic just cuts into my skin, leaving deep red marks that are on the verge of bleeding.
“So, now I’m going to ask you one last time. Why were you meeting Grayson Shaw?”
Neither of us says a word.
I think the perverse side in Castillo is glad because now he gets to call his guard forward and begin the threats.
I’m ready for him, though.
“String him up,” he orders.
No. Not Ryker. String me up instead, I want to yell.
But, the guard grabs him, pops up on a chair, and hitches his bound wrists high above his head, up on a metal hook attached to the ceiling. Ryker’s long body stretches to its limit and he’s practically on the balls of his feet.
