Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88918 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 445(@200wpm)___ 356(@250wpm)___ 296(@300wpm)
“Still have doubts?” Cole asked.
“That’s Lucia.” Tate blinked, forcing himself to look away. “But the anonymous woman in the video—”
“Has the same scar.” Cole re-centered the image, moving the focus from Lucia’s face to the faded wound beneath the cropped shirt.
Identical scar. Same toned stomach and body shape. The evidence was there, undeniable. Lucia had aimed that gun and shot an innocent without flinching.
Ice filled his veins. He wasn’t naive, and as much as he hated it, he could accept the fact she was a coldblooded criminal. The question was, what the fuck would he do about it?
“Can you still copy her phone?” he asked. “Wait. Do you have the number? I could call her.”
What would he say to her? Hey, you don’t know me, but Camila escaped her kidnapper. She’s alive and misses you. How about you come home, and we’ll pretend you never tortured innocent people?
“The phone was destroyed the day after the video was taken,” Cole said. “As of yesterday, she still hadn’t replaced it.
“The man she works for, this Badell guy… He must be blackmailing her. I mean, she’s not working for money if she lives in a slum.”
“They all live in the slum, outside of the law. It’s their kingdom, where they make their own rules. She eats dinner with Badell every night. Goes in and out of his compound freely. She is watched and never leaves the city. I’ve seen his guards trailing her, but he puts guards on all his high-ranked officials.”
She’s a high-ranked official? For a street gang? Camila would be heartbroken if she knew this.
“What about the police?” Tate rose from the couch and paced through the room. “We could turn over the video and any evidence you have against him and shut down his entire operation.”
“You’re not getting it.” Cole propped his elbows on his knees, pulling in a deep breath. “This is Caracas. The police are poorly trained, under-equipped, and aren’t paid shit. They tip off the gangs when something isn’t right, and the crime lords thank them for that service by giving them a cut of the profits.”
Of fucking course. He dropped his head back and heaved a frustrated breath to the ceiling. He needed answers, and the only way he’d get them was to pay Lucia Dias a visit.
“Tate.” Liv’s melodic voice wove around him as she stood from Josh’s lap and approached. “You need to call Camila.”
“And say what? She breathes and bleeds a passionate crusade against people like Tiago Badell. If she saw that video of her sister, it would hurt her irreparably. She thinks Lucia is dead and… Fuck, Liv, that’s better than the truth, don’t you think? I can’t tell her. Not until I talk to Lucia.”
“If you go to Caracas,” Cole said, “you’ll be kidnapped and killed inside of a week. You’re untrained and unprepared. At a minimum, you need someone with you, preferably a security guard. Someone to watch your back.”
“I’m not a security guard, but I’m good with a gun.” Liv touched Tate’s jaw, drawing his gaze to hers. “I’ll go with you.”
“The hell you will!” Josh leapt from the chair, eyes blazing.
“Josh,” she snapped. “I’ll do whatever—”
“No. End of discussion.”
Josh glared at her, and she glared right back. Tension shivered between them, a silent battle of wills. Tate was certain Liv would win, but it wasn’t up to her.
“Josh is right,” he said. “You’re not going. No—” He held up a hand when she tried to interrupt. “I’m not budging on this.”
She sniffed, turned on her heel, and strode down the hallway, shutting the bedroom door behind her.
“Shit, man.” Tate scrubbed a hand through his hair. “I didn’t mean to cause problems. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. I’ll enjoy the punishment later tonight.” Josh’s eyes gleamed, his smile twitching with mischief. Then he sobered, nodding at Cole. “Why can’t he do it? He knows where Lucia lives and seems to have the training to move around the city without getting killed.”
“Yeah, well…” Tate blew out a breath. “I can’t afford him.”
“Even if I were to help you pro bono—which I won’t.” Cole gave him a hard look. “I don’t extract people unless they’re willing.”
“I just want to talk to her.” Tate studied him for a moment, an idea forming. “If I approached her, would she shoot me on the spot?”
“Her guards would.” Cole shook his head. “You can’t just walk in there, Tate. The gangs decide who enters the neighborhood.”
“But you can. You rented an apartment across the street from hers. How’d you do it?”
“I know which palms to grease.”
“Then get me in. I’ll pay you to set me up in that apartment and tell me everything you know about Tiago Badell. I’ll do the rest. Just name the price.”
“It’s a suicide mission. The price is your life.”
“Train me.” Tate paced through the room, fueled with determination. “Teach me whatever I need to know to make contact with her.” He paused in front of Cole, hands flexing at his sides. “You know my account balance. Take it all.”