Kidnapping. Torture. Human sacrifice to skeleton saints.
It might have been a hundred degrees in the shade, but Natalie felt ice-cold.
She hugged her arms around herself, shivering, her gazed locked on the macabre tattoo with its grinning skull. Then the door to the church burst open, and the Zeta whose nose she’d broken hurried over to them, shouting something in urgent tones to the one guarding her, both of his eyes blackened, his nose swollen.
Natalie was jerked to her feet, her plate and the empty Coke bottle falling to the ground. The one with the broken nose raised a hand, and she thought he was going to strike her again. Instead, his fingers dug into her arms and dragged her toward the church.
CHAPTER 4
ZACH HUNG LIMPLY from the manacles, unable even to hold up his head. His shoulders ached from supporting his deadweight, manacles biting into his bloody wrists. But none of that could compare to the residual pain of that last electroshock. His muscles seized in sharp spasms, his heart slamming erratically in his chest, his body shaking, his mouth filled with the coppery taste of his own blood.
Don’t give in to the pain. Adjust for it.
He willed himself to relax, slowed his breathing.
Cold water splashed over his chest, making him jerk. It wasn’t to revive him, he knew, but to make his skin more conductive to electricity. He waited for the next blast of agony, but instead felt a glass bottle against his lips. A hand fisted in his hair, tilting his head back, and he swallowed, warm cola sliding down his raw, parched throat.
Electrolytes. Caffeine. Calories.
All would help him stay alive.
Then his tormenter spoke to him, as always in Spanish. “You are dying,cuñado. And for what? You are alone now, forgotten, left without even a dog to bark at you. Tell us who has the cocaine and where we can find them. Then your torment will end. There will be no more pain, only sleep.”
Zach fought off a wave of despair.“¡Vete a la verga!”Fuck off!
The bastard chuckled, but Zach knew he wasn’t really amused. They’d tried to break him and had failed. There’d be a price to pay when Cárdenas got the news.
Creaking hinges. Footsteps.
And Zach knew she was there. He could feel her presence, hear her rapid breathing. Hell, he could even smell her, something sweet in a world of filth.
Natalie.
“Tráela aquí.”Bring her over here.
What the hell?
Zach’s head came up. Somehow, he drew himself to his feet, his hands clenched around the chains for support, his heart thudding hard in his chest. Why had they brought her in here? Were they going to torture her to get to him?
Over my dead body.
“Zach?” There was fear in her voice, but also sympathy, concern.
He shook his head, his sign to her to keep quiet, hoping she’d remembered what he’d told her earlier. If they thought he cared what happened to her, if they thought he’d told her anything . . .
An arm went around his shoulder. “You are a brave man. No one has ever lasted so long against my little stinger, so I’ll offer you a better way out. Tell us where the coke is, and you can have the girl. We’ll take off these chains, give you some food and a little coke to make you strong,sí? Then you can fuck her till your prick gives out. And when you’re done, you get one bullet to the head. Fast, painless—and you die happy. If you do not, your suffering will be such that those who find what is left of your body will lie awake at night weeping for you.”
Zach might have laughed if the situation hadn’t been so serious. Having failed to break him with pain, they were now trying to bribe him with rape. They were only bluffing, of course. They had no intention of giving him their Jefe’s prize. But if he played along with them, if he could persuade them to unchain him . . .
He pretended to consider the offer. “¿Es bonita?”Is she pretty?
Rough hands tore off his blindfold.
“!Mira sus tetas!”Just look at her tits!
Unaccustomed to light he blinked, squinted—and quickly assessed the situation. He was in a small room with a halfdozen armed Zetas. There were two small windows and only one door. Wooden chairs sat around an old table littered with dirty dishes and half-empty bottles of tequila. A couple of AKs leaned up against the wall to his right.
You’d give your left nut for one of those, wouldn’t you, man?