Page 56 of Jacqueline's Quest

Chapter 8

They were going to get through this. Santiago had to assure Hannah of such. Somewhere along the lines, over the last year and a half, he’d fallen in love with Murray’s sister. She was beautiful inside and out. He didn’t care about her wheelchair or her AMF. Fuck, he’d carry her everywhere if he had to, just to have her by his side.

It also made him a bastard for keeping secrets and wanting to keep her to himself.

Because, in the end, he knew he’d have to give her up. Hannah deserved to return to her life before the kidnapping. She earned her freedom more times than Santiago could count. Seen more shit than she should have ever been exposed to and been an unwilling accomplice to everything Raul dabbled in.

He stared at the photograph on his phone and frowned. He should have deleted it the moment he sent it to Miguel to show Murray. Since Scotty's arrival, Santiago realized one thing; it was getting harder and harder to not blow his cover. Even as he sat at his desk, the urge to find Hannah and tell her the truth, made it almost impossible to sit still. And, after the conversation Scotty had with her, Santiago had a feeling he'd have to explain what was going on sooner rather than later.

I’m fucked.

Santiago scrubbed his bald head.

Tonight would be a test for him and Hannah. There was no way Murray wouldn't seek out his sister. Already Santiago had some ideas forming in his head about what he could do with Hannah to put on a show—one of the situations included a blindfold and noise-canceling headphones. It would mean sensory deprivation for Hannah, but in the long run, it would save her the embarrassment of being seen or knowing her brother was in the room. The second meant putting on a full show, in front of her brother, with no exceptions. Personally, Santiago didn't believe Murray could sit there without throwing down.

The other part of having a plan in place would mean following through with his gut instincts and telling Hannah the truth with the possibility of destroying all of the trust he'd built with her over the past few months since Raul handed her ownership over to Santiago. Truth be told, it wasn't her trust in him, he cared about. It was his trust in her. For all he knew, Hannah had become loyal to Raul and anything he said to her in confidence could be used as another nail in Santiago's coffin.

Yet, if he didn’t say anything and shit hit the fan, which he’d been worried about too, Hannah would be left defenseless. Plus, there was the added factor of seeing her brother for the first time in ten years and the movement in her legs coming back slowly but surely she could do something stupid like rushing to his side without a second thought. Hannah was the perfect ticking time bomb. If Santiago didn't snip the right wires in the right order, the whole operation would blow up in their faces.

So, what did he do?

Each direction he went in, might lead all of them into a trap. For all he knew, Raul had been setting him up from the very beginning.

It wouldn’t surprise Santiago. Though the FBI kept his record in place along with the help of LAPD’s Rampart Division, his technique was different than most. He was a natural brawler. Growing up in East LA, Santiago spent a good chunk of his time in the boxing ring and learning mixed martial arts, earning a reputation for being ruthless. However, when he’d been given the rare opportunity to help change a community then go deep undercover, his skills improved and he became a refined hellion, too pretty for words. He showed no mercy and had zero regrets when it came to killing people.

In his mind, they were bad people and they deserved to die. In the cartel, there weren't any judges or juries either. There were only executioners. If Santiago wanted to make it out of there alive, he had to follow through on his commitments.

Unfortunately, when he told Hannah the truth, she might see him in the same light as the others—a thug, hell-bent on the destruction of society. She might try to escape or worse, run straight back to Raul.Fuck.He’d never been in knots like this before. Every move he made could be his last. The walls were closing in on him. He’d been in for too long and under too deep. Santiago stared at the back of his hands. Death and forgiveness. They were the two tattoos he’d had done the minute he found out about the case.

They were ironic.

They were hypocritical.

He wasn’t religious in any way. He was practical. Shit happened. Death was inevitable. No one could save his soul, not even him.

Yet, as he sat in the tattooist’s chair and watched as the Virgin Mary came to life in reds, blues, yellows, and oranges, he had a moment of clarity. Maybe being undercover in the Nieto Cartel was his penance. It was true he needed a good old fashioned wake-up call. He'd been running the streets with La Rasa for so many years he lost his humanity. Perhaps, he'd never get it back. But, still, he was trying to earn it.

A soft knock came at the door before it opened and Hannah wheeled herself in. She almost didn't need it anymore. Her balance was on point. Her steps were a bit shuffled and labored, and she tired quickly sometimes, however, she pushed on. Unfortunately, if Raul found out the truth, Hannah would become disposable and her life would be snuffed out. Santiago made a deal with her. She could come to the enclosed rooftop pool with him. They could walk, swim, and relax to build up her strength as long as she stopped standing in her room. A small price he believed she'd pay to feel an ounce of normalcy after being stuck in her chair for so long.

Hannah placed her hands in her lap after coming to a stop in front of his desk. Today she wore one of her pleated tennis skirts, a lavender blouse, and a periwinkle cardigan had been draped over her shoulders. Instead of her hair being down, she’d made two Dutch braids, pulling it away from her face. A flash of fear entered her eyes when she glanced up at him, and he hated it.

The majority of her terror came from Raul's men. They were all nasty bastards—including him. Nevertheless, Raul's men carried the stench of death wherever they went. No amount of showering or cologne they wore covered it up. They were also the ones who took advantage of all the men and women in the club when Raul wasn't looking. Thank fuck, Raul had the presence of mind to have all of the girls sterilized or else pregnancy and abortions would out of control.

“What’s going on, butterfly?” Santiago could barely get the words past his lips. The maelstrom brewing his stomach churned and twisted.

“I have to know the truth,” she whispered. “I have to hear all of it. From you.”

When she glanced up at him, a single tear slipped from her crystal blue eyes and tracked down her cheek. His heart broke. The churning grew worse, to the point he thought he might puke. Scotty told her. It’d been the only thing that made sense. “We can’t here.” Santiago ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Too many ears.” Even uttering those statements could get them both killed. He had to take precautions.

“I have a car,” she whispered. “Raul wants me prepared for tonight.”

The thought of never seeing her again was like a fist to the stomach. He couldn't breathe and it felt as though his heart ceased its beating. He knew with the plan already in place, Murray would be saving his sister, however, having it be a plan and seeing the plan unfold, were two different things.

“Sure, butterfly,” he murmured. “I’ll go with you. It’s my duty to prepare you for your new Master.”

Another tear splashed onto the black leather glove covering her hand. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” Santiago murmured. “When would you like to leave?”

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