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“I’m not staying long,” I growl.
Fyodor just shrugs. “Very well. More for me. How can I help you?”
“I’m looking for information on a valuable package...”
“Ah, the girl!?” the young criminal interrupts.
The exclamation catches me by surprise. When Luna told me about this guy, I wasn’t expecting much, and even less so after his ‘introduction’, but if he actually knows something useful...
“You
saw her!?”
Fyodor looks up to the ceiling. “Gorgeous.... though awfully drowsy. The sleeping beauty type...”
Anger seethes through my body. Someone is drugging Catalina to keep her sedated. I swear to god, I’m going to kill every last asshole involved...
I step forward, anger taking over my senses. Fyodor doesn’t back down. We’re about the same height and of similar build. The two of us would make for a good fight... but I’m not here to fight.
Images of my feisty little jungle bird being drugged and locked away seep through the red anger and I regain enough control to continue my inquiry. “Who had her?” I ask.
“Some Americans,” Fyodor answers with a snarl. He clearly doesn’t care for the men who were smuggling my fiancée. Good. Maybe we’re not so different after all.
“Where were they taking her?”
“America... I think.” Fyodor scrunches his nose. “All I know is that they went west. You’re Colombian, right? I guess they could have been heading there... bringing her to whoever fucked you over?”
A pang of dread infiltrates my chest, followed closely by a wave of shame.
So, my failures have made headlines all around the world, huh? I should have known. News of shakeups as big as mine travel fast in the underworld, but never did I ever think I’d be on the wrong side of one of these gossip mills...
But that hardly matters right now.
When I regain my throne, I’ll have time to deal with my image problem. Until then, the focus is clear.
Catalina.
If she’s crossing the ocean, then so am I.
The poor girl has been a hostage for long enough already, I made sure of that. The thought of someone else caging up my wild little jungle bird to use against me fills my heart with enough fire to melt the ice caps. My focus falters as I try to stay in the here and now.
Fyodor and I don’t talk much longer. He doesn’t have any more information and I can’t seem to concentrate anyways. I’m sick of Paris; I’m sick of Europe. There might be an ocean between me and my woman, but that’s a puddle compared to the blood I’m about to shed to get her back in my arms.
I’m coming for you, baby.
31
Catalina
One month later...
I’m at the toilet just in time to fill it up with my guts.
My legs shiver as I lean over the bowl and puke myself empty inside of it. The cold water inside splashes up, nearly hitting me in the face. My throat is on fire; my life has gone to hell.
What did I do to deserve this?
Maybe it’s just the shock of being brought back to where this all began, back to my cage in the Montoya jungle compound, or maybe it’s all the drugs that my kidnappers stuffed me full of to keep me sedated while they dragged me across the goddamn universe in a duffle bag.