Chapter 43
James
James eyed the Mexican coldly and noted, not so surprisingly, every one of them had firearms in their hands, pointing the dangerous weapons at him and his friends, ready for action.
The four billionaires didn’t bat an eyelid at the fact that they were severely outnumbered.
Carlos entered the scene at that moment. Short, stocky, bald-headed, and with a thick black moustache, he was oozing confidence over where this eerie nighttime conference was heading. He was fucking positive he was going to get his way—a piece of the real estate pie in Sin City where his cartel was so going to soar like a fucking eagle.
“Bienvenido! Bienvenido!” He chuckled, his arms spread out. “I can’t believe you actually came because of a boy.” He laughed out merrily. “And all four of you too.”
Matt couldn’t stand the sarcastic greeting and growled out, “Where the fuck is Andy?”
Carlos shrugged. “We’re here to do a deal, are we not, Señor Caine?” He cocked his head to one side arrogantly. “No deal, no boy.”
Matt seethed with outrage. “Go fuck yourself, Carlos.”
James said coldly, “The snake behind the business, eh?”
“He definitely looks like a fucking snake, all right,” Tory said.
“A fat, ugly one,” William added. “Damn, James, are we going to have any fun at all? Or are you guys just going to be fucking talking all night?”
“Now we’re talking,” Tory said, his eyes bright with anticipation.
James understood William’s and Tory’s eagerness and Matt’s impatience. Andy’s life could be hanging on the line, and they had no time to waste on bullshit conversation.
“No deal, Carlos,” he said. “No fucking way. Like hell I’m going to let your gangs pollute my turf with your imported drugs.”
“You heard the man,” Matt said, swiftly pulling out a sleek gun from within his jacket. “Now be a good boy and go get Andy for me.”
Carlos was seething at the cold rejection. No one had ever rebuffed him before, especially when that deal could make the other party millions.
He yelled, “Like hell you’re going to get out of here alive. I’ll kill you all.”
“That’s where you’re wrong, Carlos,” James said. “You’re the one who’s not going to get out of here alive.”
William cocked his head to one side and said, “You see, Carlos? Us? We’re well known. We have connections in high places. If anything happens to us, oh, you’ll have hell to pay. But you?”
“No one gives a shit,” Tory added.
“If you’re dead,” Matt said darkly as he unlocked the safety of his gun and moved the weapon toward the Mexican. “Now Andy, bring him here.”
Carlos wasn’t a very intelligent man. He acted on his fear and rage. Without thinking, he barked orders to his men. “Shoot them! Kill them all!”
Instantly, Matt pulled the trigger and shot Carlos dead on the spot, the bullet hitting smack between the man’s eyes. A second later, he pulled another gun from inside his jacket. With the two weapons in hand, he went all out and started shooting, bullets flying in every direction.
James pulled his own gun and started shooting, each shot hitting smack in the head of his target. William dived low, rolled on the floor, and expertly sat up, hiding himself behind a wall as he withdrew his guns. As with his friends, he started shooting at the Mexicans, his eyes sharp and a sly smile playing across his lips. Fuck! He was enjoying himself tremendously.
Tory pulled out his gun and expertly moved his body in a karate style, kicking, bashing, and shooting at the same time. Every move was smooth and effortless—graceful.
In the dimness of the foyer, there was only the echoing of gunshots and the sparks of bullets flying, bodies followed by bodies falling to the floor. In a matter of minutes, all the Mexicans were dead, blood soaking the concrete slab.
William sighed, unsatisfied. “Fuck! That was quick.”
“Damn! I was hoping it’d be more challenging,” Tory commented, placing his gun back into his jacket.
Matt wasn’t listening to the complaints of his friends. He left the foyer, his steps quick. James, William, and Tory followed suit.
The friends came into a corridor, and the men started kicking down every door, hoping to find Andy.
William did, the last in the building that led them to the basement. Matt rushed down, shouting Andy’s name. James wasn’t far behind when suddenly he heard, “Fuck!” Followed by, “Andy! Andy!”
James came into the basement to find Matt hugging Andy tightly. Andy looked like a gorgeous corpse, his body weak and lifeless. It looked like the boy couldn’t move an inch, and he was barely breathing. Fuck. He was severely injured, his clothes torn and his body wounded with countless signs of inhuman torture.
When the brutally beaten Andy finally managed to raise his face up a little to look around him as if to see what was going on, James felt a lump form in his throat and a sickening feeling erupted within his being.
Sunken, lifeless brown eyes gazed at him without recognition. Disheveled, dirty black hair hung over that gorgeous face that was now ruined beyond imagination with cuts, bruises, swelling, and bleeding.
Fuck! In that moment, the picture of Andy in such a piteous, lifeless state snatched James’ breath away—in a fucking bad way. The boy looked so similar to his sister that he had thought Andy had been Mia, and he felt sick. So fucking sick inside. Once he had regained his senses, rage erupted within his being, and a surge of protectiveness for Mia and those she loved returned hot in his blood anew. Immediately he wanted to return to the hotel to make sure Mia was okay.
Fuck! He wanted to see her face, to hug her tight against him, to feel her soft, warm body against him, and smell her frangipani scent that had so intrigued him since he had first met her. Fuck, but he wanted to kiss her. Not the passionate, wild kiss before he took her but that gentle, tender kiss that told him she was fine. That she hadn’t been taken hostage and ruthlessly beaten. That her life wasn’t on the line.
“We should get going,” he said urgently to Matt.
Matt, still hugging Andy tight in his arms, nodded. His voice trembling and edgy, he said, “Yeah.” He lifted Andy up in his arms, and they headed back up.
