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“Who’s this?” Diego’s gruff voice comes from the loudspeaker.
“Diego,” Isadora says.
“What the fuck, Isa? Are you fuckin’ crazy?” he hisses. “What are you doing calling me? What’s going on?” I’m shocked at the hint of concern in his tone.
“There’s someone here who wants to speak to you. You met a long time ago. He—” She hesitates, looks up at me and says, “We need your help.”
In the background, I can hear traffic and the sound of a pedestrian walk signal. Less than a minute passes before a car door slams closed and the outside noise is muffled. “This is about the guy who purchased you at the auction, isn’t it? I fuckin’ knew it was him. He’s from that fuckin’ biker gang, isn’t he? Devil or somethin’...” he trails off.
“Demon,” she corrects him.
There’s a long, heavy sigh. “Fuck, Isa, what have you gotten yourself into?”
I walk over and sit on the edge of the bed so I don’t need to raise my voice. “So, you knew who I was? And you didn’t turn me over to Daddy?” I say, trying to get a rise out of him.
I glance at Isadora, and she shakes her head. “We need him,” she mouths, reminding me.
Diego doesn’t have the same patience as his sister. “Fuck you! You think you know me? You don’t know shit! You have no fuckin’ idea the things I’ve done… the things he’s made me do.”
Isadora clasps her hands together, a pained expression on her face.
Another sigh comes through the phone. “You killed Lorenzo, didn’t you?”
I know he’s talking to me, so I reply, “Collateral damage. Shit happens.”
The line is quiet so long, Isadora taps the screen to make sure the call is still connected.
“What do you want me to do?” Diego finally asks.
Hope smothers Isadora’s features as she smiles.
“I want to know the location of the cartel’s warehouses. In particular, the ones where they keep the girls. I want access to those responsible for the kidnappings. And I want access to your father’s compound,” I say.
Diego lets out a burst of laughter. “You want access to his fuckin’ porn collection too?” I raise my brow and shrug at Isadora who’s listening intently. “And what makes you think you can waltz right on in?” Diego asks.
“That’s where you come in. You know the layout, the guards, the shift changes. All I need is a map and the finer details.”
“It’s your funeral.” There’s a loud knocking that sounds like it’s coming from Diego’s car window. “Fuck!” he hisses under his breath. “I gotta go. Meet me tomorrow, I’ll text you the address.”
The call ends and a text comes through almost immediately.
Diego: Café Deluxe, 36 West Street, 11a.m.
Isadora’s eyes meet mine, apprehension swimming in their depths. “This is dangerous.”
Dangerous is fine with me. At least it’s fuckin’ familiar.
***
I drive past the café ten minutes before our scheduled arrival time to scope out the place. According to Isadora, it’s not one of the places the cartel frequents, and other than Diego, she doesn’t recognise anyone outside.
Pulling up in the parking lot behind the café, I look over to Isadora. “You stay here,” I remind her. It’s one thing to put myself in the firing line, but it’s another thing entirely to risk Isadora’s life on my personal vendetta.
Isadora shakes her head. “No. I want to do this. Let me do this, please, Zain.”
Fuck!I knew I shouldn’t have given her my real name. The way she says it with so much expectation unravels something inside me. I’m losing the upper hand I had on her, and I can’t let that happen.
She reaches out and places her soft hand over mine, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ineedto be part of this.”
