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“Where’s Gianna?”
The sneer in Juan’s voice made Caleb’s jaw tick.
“Where’s Jennie?”
The rear door opened.
A burly man stepped out next, dressed in jeans and a tight black tee that showed off thick, veined muscle, a brown leather shoulder holster and 45-caliber handgun nestled beneath his armpit.
The man who emerged behind him was in his thirties, with neatly groomed, dark brown hair, tailored beige trousers and a white linen guayabera shirt.
He removed his sunglasses slowly, revealing a cool, assessing stare. “Señor Varella.”
Vincente Lopez Garcia.
“Lopez.” Caleb resisted the urge to reach for his weapon. “Where’s my cousin?”
The bodyguard yanked Jennie from the SUV by the back of her scrubs, jamming a gun to her temple as she stumbled to find her footing.
Caleb’s temper flared. “That’s unnecessary.”
Jennie’s right eye was darkening into an ugly bruise, her lip freshly split.
“You okay?” He gentled his tone for her.
“Yes.” Her gaze darted past him, searching.
Lopez flicked his fingers. “We’ve kept our deal. Where’s Gianna?”
“Gia, come here,” Caleb said, his eyes never leaving Lopez.
She stepped from behind the hogan.
He recognized fear when he saw it—and it clung to her now like a second skin. He ached to reach for her, offer comfort. But he couldn’t. Not yet.
Not until she and Jennie were safe.
“Jennie.” Gia’s voice cracked at the sight of her friend.
“Don’t—” Jennie started, but the bodyguard silenced her with another jab of the barrel.
Caleb’s fingers twitched.
That bastard dies first.
Lopez stared at Gia, his expression twisting in displeasure.
“Take off the sunglasses,querida.”
Gia lifted them slowly, resting them on the brim of her cap. She met his gaze without flinching.
Lopez gave a single nod and turned his attention to Caleb.
“I’m still surprised you returned her to me.”
Caleb let his face go flat. Cold.
“Gia makes her own decisions. Jennie is Diné. What would you do to protect your family?”