Your Next Breath

“Is that likely?”

“No, he’s giving up a hell of a lot of torment by cutting down his victim list. He’ll want to take his time with Catherine. But there’s always a possibility. If Santos doesn’t come, who will he send?”

“Juan Pablo. He’s the one who brought Montez here. Santos uses him more than any other of his men except Dorgal.”

“Would you recognize him?”

Dario nodded. “I’ve run into him a time or two in Trinidad and Jamaica. Pretty nasty. Do you want me to take him out?”

“No. I told you, I can’t interfere.”

“But you will if it’s Santos and not Pablo.”

He nodded shortly. “Then it won’t be a capture, it will be a murder. And even if it’s Pablo, I may have to intervene. Catherine is supposed to let them take her with only a token resistance.”

Dario gave a low whistle. “And you don’t believe she’s capable of doing that? I tend to agree with you. She would find it impossible to give in meekly to Pablo. But that would make her resistance appear more authentic.”

“If he doesn’t kill her.” His gaze was fixed on the brief glimpses he was getting of Catherine, who was almost two blocks ahead of them. She was moving slowly, warily, her head lifted as if she was listening.

Soon.

He could feel his tension growing as he waited for the attack to come.

The attack he couldn’t stop.

If Santos was there, the attack would stop before it began.

Catherine would die.

And then Cameron would kill Santos before he breathed another breath.

More warehouses.

Shadows.

Crates.

Trucks.

Machinery.

It should happen here, now.

Catherine thought so, too. He could read her body language, the tension, the hesitation, as her gaze searched the darkness.

She was passing a huge crane.

Shadows … moving!

Leaping out from behind the crane!

Three, no, four men.

Catherine whirled and the heel of her boot caught one of her attackers in the throat. She leaped forward, and her fist plowed into another man’s belly, and then her foot shot backward and caught the man behind her in the groin. He fell to his knees.

“Give it up, Catherine,” Cameron murmured beneath his breath. He knew the instinct that was driving her. That was one of the primary reasons he had followed her. But these men had weapons, and she had none.

The man she had kicked in the groin was now on his feet and drawing his gun.

“Shit.” Cameron drew his own gun.

But the man wasn’t firing. The butt of the gun was coming down with vicious force on Catherine’s head.

Her legs buckled, and she fell to her knees. The next moment, she was crumpled on the dock, unconscious.

The man who had struck her was cursing, and he took a step forward. He lifted his foot and kicked Catherine viciously in the rib cage.

“Son of a bitch.” Cameron’s gaze was fixed on the man’s face, memorizing every feature. “Who is he? Do you know him?”

“Juan Pablo,” Dario said. “She was fairly incredible, wasn’t she? I can see why you were worried. That was no token. But I think she made him a little angry.”

“That’s nothing to what he made me,” Cameron said. He watched as one of the men picked up Catherine’s limp body and carried her down the dock. He could feel the rage tearing through him. He had to forcibly resist the temptation to go after them. Stick to the plan. Go with Dario and his men to the island and bring Santos to his knees.

And slaughter that prick Pablo later.

CHAPTER

15

Pain.

“Wake up, bitch.”

Catherine’s head jerked as she was struck on the side of her cheek.

She tried to open her eyes.

Another blow, this one splitting her lower lip.

“I don’t want you lying there like a zombie. Open your damn eyes.”

Santos. It had to be Santos. Catherine forced her lids to open.

Santos’s face was only a foot away from her own, and his eyes were blazing, his lips drawn back from his teeth like a feral animal. “Yes, that’s what I want. Pablo shouldn’t have hit you. I’m the only one who’s permitted to cause you pain.” He raised his hand and whipped it again across her face. “Maybe later. Maybe when I get tired and just want to watch your final throes of agony.”

“How … dramatic. Was that supposed to intimidate me?”

He hit her again.

Okay, don’t taunt him. She had to stop him from hitting her until she could clear her mind. Where was she?

Sand. She was lying on … sand. Darkness. Palm trees. She could hear the ocean’s surf close by. She must be on the island.

Yes, there was a speedboat anchored a short distance away, and three men standing, watching Santos. She recognized one as the man she’d kicked. The other two she didn’t remember.

How long had she been here? Had Cameron had time to get around to the other side of the island yet?

Ask.

“I don’t remember anything after I was struck on the head. How long have I been here?”

“Too long. A couple hours. I thought Pablo might have spoiled everything. I couldn’t wake you.”

“I could have shot her.” One of the men stepped forward. “I only hit her.”

“Shut up, Pablo,” Santos said. “I wanted her to be clearheaded and able to appreciate everything I’m going to do to her. Go on up to the tomb and wait for me.”

She watched the man scurry up the beach. “Two hours. He must have hit me very hard. Though I’m sure you were ever so gentle about bringing me around.”

He hit her again.

Two hours. It could be long enough for Cameron. She would have to see.

“You’re suddenly very quiet,” Santos said softly. “Are you feeling how alone you are? All your friends, and none of them can help you now.” He reached down, grabbed her arm, and jerked her to her feet.

“At least I have friends,” she said. “You have no one, Santos. No one cares whether you live or die.”

“They care. Because I’m the one who says whether they live or die.” He pushed her down the beach toward a path winding beneath the overhanging palms. “But now it’s time for me to take you to Delores. You’ve kept her waiting. I meant to have more time with you on my own, but you’ve spoiled that.” He shrugged. “Oh, well, perhaps I’ll enjoy it even more thinking how she would feel when I begin on you. Delores was always more imaginative than I was when it came to discipline. She could stretch punishment out for days, and she would try so many new toys…”

“I’m sure that she was everything you say she was.” She gave him a cool glance. “And I couldn’t be happier that I blew her away. I wish she were alive, so that I could do it again.”

Rage. Twisting, ugly, rage that contorted his features. “She is alive,” he hissed. “You’ll see. You couldn’t kill her. You’re not good enough. She fooled you. She fooled everyone. She’s alive. She’s only waiting.”

“You’re crazy,” she said. “And Delores was just as crazy to lead you down the path toward such a bizarre scheme. It’s all pretense and lies, and you can’t even see it.”

“Pretense? Lies? Was it a lie when I showed you that photo of your son? You didn’t think so. I could sense your fear. Delores would have loved that moment.” He smiled. “As she’ll love the moment when I give the order for your Luke to be shot.”

She stiffened. “I’m here. I’m the one you want.”

“But I have to feel your pain. You keep it so well hidden that it takes a great deal to make you reveal it.”

“That was a freak incident when Luke was targeted. Hu Chang takes good care of him. He’ll find the man you’ve planted outside my home stalking Luke. I’ve told him not to let my son leave the house for a while. It might never happen again.”

Santos laughed. “No? You think he’s just skulking in the shadows and dodging your people? That photo was taken through a window while Luke was in his bedroom. I have a shooter in the attic of an old Victorian house over a thousand feet away. Donald Lambell is an expert marksman I hired in Iraq and he answers only to me. I didn’t even trust Dorgal to know about him.”