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Had Lopez and Ortega turned on each other? A Wild West standoff?
Maybe the rumors he’d seeded—about the Aztec Kings courting Los Coyotes—had done the trick.
Only…no weapons near the bodies.
His attention snapped back to Ramón.
Cold bastard.
The uncle kills the prince to usurp the crown.
“You killed your nephew,” he said.
“Juan did.” Gia’s voice, quiet, unsteady, cut through the chaos.
It was the first time she’d spoken since he heard her scream from the other side of the door.
Caleb imagined Lopez’s last moment—betrayed by the person closest to him.
Time to push Juan.
Make the bastard focus on him.
Shift that gun off Gia.
Step away. Give Nathan the shot.
He let his lip curl. “Did you do it for yourself?” He arched a brow. “Or for Daddy?”
“Shut up!” Juan’s gaze darted to his father.
Caleb smirked. “Yeah, we know who calls the shots. It isn’t you. Killed your cousin just to be Daddy’s lapdog.”
“Callate a la verga!” Juan flushed red, eyes glassy. His grip on Gia loosened.
That’s right, you bastard. Come after me.
“Enough.” Ramón’s sharp command snapped Juan back.
The senior cartel leader climbed the boarding stairs and turned. “I’ll have the pilots start the engines.”
He eyed Lachlan, Ryder, Danny, then Caleb. “If any of you interfere—including whoever’s outside—she dies.”
“Caleb.” Gia’s desperate plea twisted his gut.
He half-stepped forward.
Juan jammed the gun harder into her temple.
The plane’s engines rumbled to life.
“It’s okay, baby.” Caleb forced his voice to remain calm. But inside, rage clawed at him.
If Gia got on that plane, she wouldn’t come out alive.
The right turbine began to spin.
“SUV inbound.No headlights,” Nathan barked through the comms.