I didn’t know Papá had that kind of tech. When is the man going to stop surprising me? “Yeah, I’ll leave the line open. I’ve gotta try to help him though. I don’t trust Gustavo not to kill him.” My throat tightens with fear for the first time when it hits me how likely that possibility is right now. Maddox ran in there in nothing but his boxers, and I haven’t heard any sign of him since.
“No! You need to stay safe, Leo. Please don’t put yourself at risk.”
“Ángel, you know I have to.” I can’t bring myself to say more. Losing Manny destroyed me, but Maddox is half of what’s kept me going, even if he wasn’t physically present during the past few months. After last night, if Maddox dies . . .
She sighs. “I know. Be careful. I love you.”
“I love you too, ángel.” I tuck the phone in the gap between the barrels to make sure it stays intact.
Movement in the shadows beneath the pickup catches my eye. Booted feet creep past the unconscious body, heading in my direction. Rather than just wait, I move, darting toward the man rather than away. When I round the front of the truck and come face-to-face with him, he looks up in surprise. I coldcock him with the butt of the gun and he goes down in a heap.
Gunshots ring out again and I drop to the ground to take cover, but the agonized yell that accompanies the shots makes me turn on my heel and run toward the office instead. That was Maddox’s voice, and I’ll be damned if I don’t come when he needs me.
38
Maddox
While Leo keeps the rest of the mercs occupied, I slip through the door beneath the steps—and come face-to-face with the barrel of a gun. Even before the sight registers, I’m smacking the man’s wrist aside, grabbing his arm before he can fire. The gun lands on the floor, and I twist his arm around his back and jab my knee into his spine. I seize him by the hair and slam his head against the floor. He goes limp and I roll into the shadows beside the door.
“Tell me what the fuck is going on out there!” The yell comes from farther in, so I dart to the edge of a doorway and peer through to another room beyond. J.J. hangs limp from a chain attached to the ceiling, face a puffy, mangled mess. Blood and burn marks cover his torso and one entire side of his body is mottled with red bruising. His head lolls, and I can’t tell from here whether he’s even breathing. Jesus, how long was I unconscious?
I don’t see Gustavo until he’s right in front of me, swinging around the door with a swift uppercut to my jaw that knocks me for a loop. The punch is so hard my teeth clack together and blood rushes into my mouth from the chunk I just took out of my own tongue. I flail as I fly back against the wall, the gun flying from my grip. Shots break out from outside again. I’m still seeing stars as Gustavo looms over me, eyes ablaze and the reddened streak of his scar bright despite the shadows. One clenched fist shines with the brass knuckles that are his trademark.
He flips me over and I struggle uselessly as a fresh zip tie is secured around my wrists. Then he hauls me up by my elbow and drags me into the room, tossing me onto the floor at J.J.’s feet.
Up close, the bruises that cover J.J.’s torso are disturbingly familiar. I remember the searing pain of every punch Gustavo gave me when I was seventeen. J.J.’s a whole lot worse for wear than I was back then. His eyes are swollen almost shut, but still cracked and he’s looking right at me with unnerving clarity.
Relief floods me when I realize he’s alive, but then Gustavo hauls me up again, forcing me onto my knees, facing my brother.
“Feels like old times, huh, Mad Dog? Except now you get to watch me turn your little brother into bloody pulp.” He targets a punch with precision at J.J.’s stomach and I wince as the solid thwack forces the air out of my brother’s lungs. He coughs, spewing blood that I hope is only from cuts inside his mouth.
J.J. groans, then speaks, but the slurred syllables are muffled by his swollen mouth. “You’re a motherfucking asshole, Gustavo. I told you where the money is half an hour ago.”
“Oh, you think I’m still torturing you for intel? Nah, dog, I’m just doing this for fun now. Maybe I should give you a break and let Mad Dog here get reacquainted with my fist the way he got reacquainted with Celeste’s pussy.” He leers at me and lifts his metal-clad fist to his lips, kissing it like a lover. Then he takes a swing at my face.
I dodge as he comes at me and his fist glances off my cheekbone, but it still stings like a motherfucker and I go down onto my side. Gustavo kicks me in the gut.
“Get up. Take it like a man, not the little pussy faggot I know you are.”
He bends over, taunting me, and I struggle to rise, then fall to the floor again, which invites even more name-calling. Behind Gustavo, J.J.’s eyes open wider and the flex of his biceps telegraphs his intentions a second before he acts.
I laugh out loud. “Punch me again, asshole. I fucking dare you.”
Gustavo sneers and straightens up to draw back his fist. His change in position is just enough for my brother to act. He grabs hold of the
