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I'm not sure she'd tell me if I asked. Sometimes, you can't save everyone, no matter how much you might wish you could.
Fifteen minutes outside of Santa Cruz, Selena's phone rings. The sound has me ready to climb out of my skin. My nerves are shot. The team sitting on the condo hasn't seen anyone, and it's been four hours since I last heard from Mila and Tahani. Brady made the drive as quickly as possible, doing well over 100mph, but it still took too fucking long.
"It's him," Selena says, her voice small and quiet. The closer we've gotten, the more distressed she's become. I think she's holding it together by sheer force of will alone, but that vulnerability shines through the cracks in her armor a little more frequently now. She jumps anytime Brady or I speak, and her voice shakes when she replies to any questions.
Whatever Guerrero is to her…it's not by choice. That much is clear. And I have no fucking clue what I'm going to do about that.
"Here." She holds her phone out to me.
I ignore the way her hands shake, instead focusing on Jose Guerrero's name on the display.
"You should be in Santa Cruz soon, no?" he asks as soon as I have the phone to my ear.
"Yes," I snap, gritting my teeth. It pisses me off that he knows we've been tracking him. He sounds amused, as if this entire fucking debacle is entertaining to him. I'm sure it probably is. Guys like Guerrero thrive on chaos and discord. They excel at making life miserable for others and do it because they take pleasure in ruining lives.
If I could reach through the phone here and now and end his life, I would.
"Your girlfriend told me about a lovely little restaurant. We should meet there."
"No."
"No?" He chuckles. "I have your daughter and your girlfriend, Gregory."
"And I have yours," I remind him. He doesn't get to call the shots. He doesn't get to invade any other aspects of my life. Fuck that. If he wants Selena back, I want him out in the open, where I can see him coming.
He's silent for a long moment, and then he sighs. "Very well, Gregory. Where do you want to do this?"
"Cowell Beach," I respond immediately. With rain threatening, the beach will be deserted enough to keep bystanders from being caught in the middle if things go badly but open enough to make sure we aren't ambushed.
"Very well," he says again, his tone resigned. "If the cops show, I will kill your daughter and then your girlfriend."
"They won't," I growl, fighting the urge to tell him to go fuck himself and his threats. Until Mila and Tahani are safe, I need to keep my shit together. But he isn't leaving Cowell Beach alive, not if I can help it. "I want to talk to my girls."
"Don't you trust me?"
"Put them on the phone, or you can go fuck yourself, Guerrero," I mutter, my patience wearing thin.
"Watch your tone," he snaps right back at me.
"Then put my goddamn daughter or Mila on the phone," I growl. "If I don't hear from them, I'll kill your girl. Do not test me."
Selena whimpers in the backseat, making me feel like a dick, but I'm fucking sick of this son of a bitch. For weeks, he's been making my life hell. I'm not in the mood for his little jokes and laughter.
"Watch it," Brady cautions from beside me.
I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my temper.
Guerrero is silent for a brief moment, and then a shuffling comes down the line.
"Daddy?"
The fear in Tahani's voice hits me like a kick to the gut. Her voice is little more than a whisper, and that fucks me up. Tahani doesn't whisper. She isn't soft-spoken or quiet like Mila. She's loud and spontaneous and always laughing. My kid is scared because some motherfucker crawled out of the gutter and went after her because of me. He knew how to get to her because of me.
I never wanted her in the middle of this. For years, I've tried to protect her from this shit, to keep her out of the crosshairs, and I failed.
"Hey, kiddo. Are you and Mila okay?" I ask her, my throat raw and my heart bleeding.
"Yes," she whispers.
