Garrett’s Destiny by Anna Blakely

Prologue

“Wait!” Salvador’s heart thudded with fear as he stared down the barrel of the gun. “Please, Emilio. I have a plan! We can still make this work!”

He couldn’t die. Not like this. Not in this musty-smelling forgotten hole where no one would ever find him.

I don’t want to die.

The thought was naïve…and pointless. What he wanted didn’t matter. Not anymore. And deep down, Sal knew this was exactly what he deserved.

After all, how many times had he heard others beg for their own lives? How many times had he, himself, turned a blind eye while their desperate pleas went unanswered?

But still, he wasn’t ready to meet his maker. Not yet. Not when he had a plan to finally be free.

The thought of his impending death impaled Sal to his very core, filling his pores with such terror and anguish he was willing to sell his soul—and anyone else’s—in order to survive.

All he had to do was make the most powerful man in the country reconsider his decision to kill him.

With his knees digging into the cool dirt floor and his insides burning with fear, he silently prayed to a god who’d long ago forgotten him. Sal prayed for mercy. That his ruthless boss would find it in his cold, emotionless heart to show mercy and spare him.

And finally, after what felt like a torturous eternity, the man in charge gave the silent order to stand down. Felix—the mass of muscle holding the weapon—paused. His trigger finger easing only slightly as he awaited further instructions.

Sal’s shoulders sank, his chest heaving with relief. The sound of his rugged breaths echoed through the dank cellar as a rush of saliva filled his mouth.

A sure sign that his stomach was seconds away from emptying its contents all over the dirt in front of him.

Knowing his boss loathed signs of weakness, Sal pushed back the need to vomit, somehow managing to keep his trembling under control.

“Thank you.” The rushed words were directed at the man standing a few feet behind Felix.

Positioned close enough to get a front-row seat to the show while also keeping a safe distance from any blood splatter that may occur, Emilio Garcia stared back at Sal with an unreadable expression.

It was because of this man that life as Sal knew it had completely changed.

No. Your life is fucked up because you chose to crawl into bed with the Devil.

Like he’d had much of a choice.

When Emilio first approached him, Sal had been begging on the streets. Money, food, pussy…if he wanted it, he had to beg, borrow, and steal to get it.

In the beginning, accepting a job working for the El Sur cartel had been like a dream come true. In less than two years’ time, Sal went from struggling to survive to living a life of luxury.

He’d purchased a lavish home. Paid cash for the sports car he’d admired from afar. And for the first time in his pathetic existence, he had women falling over themselves just for the chance to share his bed.

Yes, for Sal, becoming an intricate part of the El Sur cartel meant having everything he’d ever desired…and then some.

But in this very moment, with his life weighing in the balance of Emilio’s hands, more than anything, Sal wished he’d never met the murdering son of a bitch.

“Do not thank me, Mr. Cruz,” his boss spoke for the first time since entering the dingy cellar. “I’ve only delayed the inevitable.”

Despite their seedy location, Emilio looked every bit the politician he pretended to be.

Tall. Dark. Handsome and well-groomed. Hell, the shoes on the man’s feet and the shiny watch on his wrist combined cost more than most people in this country made in an entire year.

Yet Emilio Garcia claimed to be a man of the people.

More like destroyer of the people.

“There’s another way,” Sal rushed to offer Emilio—and himself—a way out of the mess he’d made. “Please. I’m begging you, just hear me out.”

The intimidating man considered this before sliding his dark gaze to Felix. Once again, Sal was overcome with relief as he watched the gun lower. Felix took a single step back.

“Talk fast.” Emilio brushed some imaginary dust from his expensive jacket. “There are places I need to be.”

In the beginning, running drugs for the Dominican cartel leader had seemed like the best idea Sal had ever had. Not only did everyone in the country know who Emilio Garcia was...they feared him.

Two years ago, that same fear had been the driving force behind Emilio’s landslide election to one of the country’s thirty-two senatorial seats. It was also the reason he was weeks away from becoming the country’s next president.

The fact that Emilio Garcia was a monster meant nothing. His crimes were rarely brought into question, and when they were, those behind the inquiries seemed to meet an untimely yet unquestionable end.

Unquestionable because no one was brave enough—or stupid enough—to ask questions.

Most of the country’s law enforcement was on Emilio’s payroll. Those who didn’t work for him directly were too afraid to consider going against him.

Instead, they all chose to turn a blind eye to his illegal dealings.

For Sal, becoming a member of the El Sur Cartel—or ESC, as most called it—meant inheriting a fraction of that power for himself. It was like a fantasy…until it wasn’t.

“My cousin called this morning.” Sal spoke quickly, just as he’d been instructed. “He has something in the works. Something huge.”

Literally.

“I don’t have time for this.” His boss started to turn away.

“Please, Emilio!” Sal made a move to stand, but Felix instinctively raised the gun once more.

With his hands held up showing he meant no harm, Sal kept his submissive position and continued with his desperate plea.

“Look, I get that I screwed this last job up for you.” He swallowed, risking a sideways glance in Felix’s direction. “For all of us. But you know me, Emilio. You know I can make this right. Please, just give me the chance to make it right!”

It wouldn’t be an easy task, thanks to his screw-up. Sal had been given one job—to find the leak within the organization—and he’d failed miserably.

Not only had he identified the wrong El Sur member as the organization’s mole, he’d also inadvertently cost the cartel a substantial amount of money when their last deal blew up in their faces.

Even so, Emilio had to know Sal’s loyalty was unwavering. He had to. Sal just needed a little more time to prove it.

The senator spoke his next words with careful consideration. “Your cousin. He has done work for us before, yes?”

“Yes!” Sal’s desperation nearly caused him to leap forward again. Keeping an eye on Felix and his gun, he licked his dry lips and composed himself. “Marcus has helped me on numerous occasions. And he’s always come through for us. Always. There’s no reason for me to think the outcome won’t be the same this time.”

“Come on, Boss.” Felix gave Emilio an incredulous look. “You’re not really buying into this bullshit, are you? We’ve seen this same thing a million times. They always make empty promises when they realize they’re about to die.”

Sal tried not to think about the ‘they’ in question. Men who’d been in this exact same position. On their knees begging for their lives.

He also refused to think about how his ruthless leader had never spared any of them a stay of execution. No matter how much they pleaded.

Why lie to yourself, Salvador? You know how this is going to end.

“I know what you’re thinking.” He locked eyes with Emilio. “But I swear, this isn’t just some kind of stunt to save my own skin. This is legit.”

“Nice try, Sally Boy.” Felix rolled his soulless eyes as he uttered the nickname he knew Sal hated. “But this isn’t something stealing a bunch of tourist’s ID’s and credit card information can fix.”

“Those jobs brought in a lot of money.” Sal couldn’t keep from reminding the asshole.

“Not three million dollars,” Felix spouted off the exact amount Sal’s screw-up had caused the organization. “Besides, tourists are getting smarter. We try a job like that again, those cards will most likely be cancelled the second you and your men walk away.”

Seemingly accepting of this, Emilio gave his right-hand man a look before turning to leave. Once again, Felix raised the gun in Sal’s direction.

Fear filled every cavity of Sal’s core. It was no longer a concept or simple emotion. It was a living, breathing entity in and of itself.

This was it. He had seconds left to convince them he could salvage what he’d lost. If he couldn’t…

“What if we don’t walk away?” Sal blurted, his question echoing off the cellar’s stone walls.

Emilio’s movements halted. With his weight on his expensive heels, he turned and faced Sal once more. “What are you suggesting?”

“What if we take them?”

“The cards?” Felix’s dark brows bunched together. “Are you deaf or just stupid?”

“I’m not talking about taking the cards.” Sal kept his eyes on the man in charge. “I’m talking about taking the tourists.”

Felix released a low curse. “Just let me shoot him, Emilio,” he grumbled. The gun was still pointed directly at Sal’s head. “This idiot’s wasted enough of our ti—”

“Wait.” Their boss raised his left hand. “I want to hear him out.”

“He probably doesn’t even have a plan. This is all just some lame attempt to save his own ass. Why allow him to manipulate you like this?”

“Why?” Emilio’s narrowed gaze slid in Felix’s direction. “Because I’m still the one in charge.” With the intense reminder still hanging in the air, the dangerous man turned his attention back to Sal. “Go on.”

“There’s another ship planning to arrive a week from tomorrow,” Sal informed him. “Very upscale.”

Felix snorted. “And you plan to what? Board the ship and take everyone hostage?”

“Not everyone.” Sal kept his tone steady despite the desperation turning his blood to ice. “A small group.”

Emilio stared back at him. His expression was unreadable. “Explain.”

“Marcus said registration for the river hike and dune buggy combo excursion was nearly full. I’ve helped my cousin run that exact tour more times than I can count. I know the route, and I know the perfect spot to strike. We ambush the group and hold them hostage until their families have paid.”

Was it risky? Sure. But it wouldn’t be the first time a group of unsuspecting tourists got caught up in such a situation. If others could pull it off, Sal was confident he could, too.

“I’ve researched dozens of incidents just like what I’m suggesting. Nearly every time, the families of the hostages, or the hostages’ governments, paid the demanded ransom. We’re talking twenty people, Emilio. We demand a million for each person, we’ll bring in more than six times the amount of money we lost.”

“You mean, the money you lost by wasting our time going after the wrong guy.” Felix, the bastard, brought his fuck-up back into the equation. “Not to mention you’re talking twenty tourists against you and your cousin. Will you and Marcus be prepared if those people fight back?”

Still down in his humiliating position, Sal shot the arrogant man a look. “Fight back with what? The tourists won’t be armed, Felix. They can’t be. Customs would never allow them through.”

And even if someone did manage to make it past Customs, ship security would catch up to them when they attempted to board.

“And it wouldn’t only be my cousin and me,” Sal explained. “There are others. Men I trust with my life.”

“That’s good, considering your life is, in fact, on the line.” Emilio took a step toward him as he mulled over the idea. “Let’s say I agreed to this plan of yours. Where would we hold the hostages?”

“Same place we hold our other merchandise.”

“The old warehouse?” Felix huffed out a loud breath. “This is insane, Emilio. He’s talking about deliberately bringing a bunch of witnesses into the heart of our operation. What happens if one of them gets free and—”

“It’s no greater risk than using that same warehouse to hold our other product before moving it,” Sal quickly assured both men. “Marcus and I will personally keep the hostages secured in the north side until we get the money.”

Marcus was the only member of his family he was still in contact with. He was also the one he’d ever been able to count on.

“And after?” Emilio’s interest gave Sal hope when he’d thought all was lost.

He looked up at his boss with earnest. “After payment is made, we see to it that the hostages disappear.” Just like all the others.

Only these captives wouldn’t be sold as sex slaves like the others. Unless…

Another idea struck. A brilliant, potentially ass-saving idea.

“There’s more.” He rushed his attempt to sweeten the plan. “Big ship like that, there’s bound to be at least one or two women on the excursion that will fit our customers’ tastes. We keep those women separated from the other hostages until our ransom demands are met. Then we add them to our inventory.”

Second after endless second passed. For Sal, the silence that followed his suggestion felt as if it stretched on for days.

The force with which his heart pounded against his ribs was proof of his unprecedented despair. But he refused to let the other men see it.

On his knees, Sal’s breath remained frozen in his lungs as he awaited his fate.

Just when he was certain Emilio would disregard his plan and move forward with his execution, the powerful man surprised him with a slow forming smile.

“This is your last chance, Salvador,” Emilio warned. “Rest assured, there will not be another.”

Tears of the unexpected solace pricked at the corners of Sal’s eyes. “Thank you, Emilio.” His voice was thick. “You won’t regret this.”

Turning away, the powerful man stopped at the bottom of the steps for a final, parting glance. His cold eyes reached deep inside, laying claim to what was left of Sal’s soul.

“Make sure that I don’t.”