Bold Tricks (The Artists Trilogy #3)

Bold Tricks (The Artists Trilogy #3) Page 25

I rested my chin on the floor and Camden did the same. I leaned forward and kissed him, then took his hand in mine. We stared at each other, eyes shining in the darkness, and waited. Waited for signs of life. We waited until we fell asleep, Travis’s house lulling us into dreamland.

CHAPTER TWELVE

Scattered Spanish entered my dreams until my brain somehow figured out that this was reality and I needed to wake up. Camden’s hand on my face helped too.

My eyes flew open and I immediately froze as I remembered where I was. I was lying down on my stomach on the loft of Travis’s library. Camden was across from me, his head inches from mine, one hand stroking my face, the other on his gun. He implored me with eyes not to make a sound or panic. I swallowed hard, trying to still my heart, and listened.

A bunch of men were yelling in Spanish to each other. It was coming from outside the room, most likely from outside the house. My suspicions were cleared up when I heard the front door slam and someone stomped inside.

“Idiots,” a man yelled angrily.

Travis.

I knew that voice too well. I had to fight against the urge to pick up my gun, leap off the balcony and hunt him down. It would be so simple. I’d probably die in the process but for a split second I didn’t care. I only wanted him dead. Then I realized how badly the revenge still ran through me, the pain his presence still brought me.

Knowing this, knowing everything about me, Camden brushed the hair off my face. And my thoughts went to him. How silly we both looked in the daylight, dried mud caked on in splotches all over ourselves.

There was someone else walking out in the hall, the footsteps going past the library and stopping not too far away. Perhaps by the laundry room. I prayed they wouldn’t need any towels.

“Is everything all right, sir?” the person asked in a near perfect American accent.

“No, it’s not fine,” Travis answered rather snidely. “I don’t understand how they haven’t been found yet. When was the last time they were spotted?”

“Aguascalientes,” the man answered. “Still nothing different. We are trying—”

“They should have died. They should have been in that car. I don’t understand how something so god damn simple can go wrong.”

“At least they were heading north. Not coming here.”

“I couldn’t give a shit if they were coming here or not. I want them fucking dead so I don’t have to worry about them fucking things up again. They made me look like a damn idiot. The whole cartel, we looked like damn idiots. All of us.”

“If you don’t think they’re coming here, then why don’t you just …”

A pause. “Just what? Kill her? What kind of barbarian do you think I am? She’s my wife.”

The word wife stabbed me. My eyes flew to Camden. He couldn’t have been talking about my mother. Could he?

“I don’t mean any disrespect,” the man said quickly. “I just figured from the way you were … talking … the other night. From what she’s gone through … that it was on the agenda.”

Travis chuckled maliciously. “Agenda? There is no agenda. I will deal with Amelie when I am ready to deal with her. Until then, keep her down there.” He grunted, his footsteps echoing down the hall. “Fix me an omelette, would you? It would be nice if someone here wasn’t completely incompetent.”

Amelie. My mother. A bunch of thoughts flew into my head. My mother was Travis’s wife, even though that made no sense at all. I never saw a wedding ring on her finger and my father had died. But he had mentioned she was “down there” which I had to assume meant someplace in the house like a basement. That at least gave us a direction to go in and I could try and make sense about all the other shit later.

Then there was the fact that he didn’t once mention Gus.

At least Este’s hunch about Javier not being expected here was true. Then again, if he said the last place that we’d been spotted was Aguascalientes, then whatever happened to Javier and the crew out there in the jungle wasn’t orchestrated by Travis.

Which meant … oh fuck.

My eyes widened and judging from the way that Camden narrowed his eyes into a steely gaze, he was realizing the same thing. Nothing had happened to Javier.

We were set up.

They had planned for us to come here.

And here is exactly where we were.

Motherfucker.

I was pretty sure my blood was boiling over. I could feel my veins pulsing at my temples, my face growing hot and red. I was ready to go fucking apeshit. I was ready to lose my fucking mind.

Camden let go of his gun and put his other hand to my face and held me firmly.

“Hey,” he whispered softly. “It’s going to be okay.”

I tried to shake my head but his grip increased.

“Ellie. It’s going to be okay. We know your mother is here. We can get her out.”

“We were set up,” I hissed harshly. “And Gus?”

“We’ll get him too.”

“Where is he?”

“If he’s here, we’ll find him. But we find her first. She can help us.”

“They probably know we’re in here.”

He smiled, briefly, softly. “They probably do. But we don’t know how this will play out. You want your mother and Gus. They want Travis dead. We might be able to have both those things and walk out of here alive. We at least have to try.”

I understood what he was saying but it didn’t stop the burning pain in my gut, that feeling of utter foolishness. I hated myself for not seeing what Javier had been doing. He was spiteful more than anything, spurned by my devotion to Camden, to the death of his sister, the death that I inadvertently caused. He was a loose cannon, mad for power, and I had told myself that when I least suspected him that’s when he’d pull the rug out from under me. And even though I told Camden I wouldn’t put it past Javier to set me up, I still hadn’t believed it. I thought he loved me enough to want what’s best for me. To see me well. I believed in his love without remembering what kind of love it was.

Gus, my dear sweet Gus, had once told me to never mistake obsession for love. He was so right, time and time again.

Javier had set Camden and I up. To come here. Perhaps to walk free or perhaps to fail. He left me in that forest, using me as a pawn, walking blindly forward for Gus and my mother. He was both doing me a favor, leading me to what I wanted, and cementing my doom. Because whatever Javier was after, it wasn’t my happiness. It was his. And at this point in our lives, what made us both happy was very far apart. I wanted family. I wanted love. I wanted Camden.

He wanted power. Just power and only that.

I closed my eyes, trying to escape the humiliation at how wrong I was about everything. I didn’t handle being made a fool of very well. We listened awhile longer to the sounds of the mansion. It sounded like someone was at the other end of the house, perhaps the man in the kitchen, making the omelette. When those sounds quieted down, I could only assume that the breakfast was being delivered to Travis in some other room in the house.

As long as we didn’t stumble across that room, this was our chance.

I nodded at Camden and we got up.

It wasn’t until we had carefully climbed down the ladder and onto the main floor of the library that I realized how badly I needed to pee. That was the thing about this that they don’t show you in the movies - everyone has to pee at some point, no matter how inconvenient the circumstances.

I grabbed Camden’s arm and whispered, “What are the chances of me finding a bathroom nearby?”

“Are you serious?”

I nodded, eyes wide. “I don’t joke about peeing.”

“Go behind the couch,” he said. “Maybe do it on a stack of first editions while you’re at it.”

I nearly smiled. Pissing on Travis’s floor was a small bit of sweet revenge.

I went behind the couch which was right by the windows and did my business. When I was done I peeled back just the tiniest bit of curtain and peeked out. I could see the wide front steps leading out to the elaborate courtyard in the front, a row of golf carts across it. There were two men with rifles stationed at the foot of the stairs, looking alert, two men we’d probably end up having to take out when it came time to get out of here.

I pulled up my pants and Camden supressed a smile as I stepped out from behind the couch.

“See anything?” he whispered.

“Just the two men with rifles that I saw last night. I don’t think this place is as heavily armed as I thought. Or I’m terribly wrong.”

He rubbed his lips together and breathed out sharply through his nose. “I hate it when you’re wrong.”

“Me too.” I shook out my arms and legs, took my gun out of my boot and said, “Let’s go down and get my mother.”

Of course, we didn’t know where “down” was. We slinked out into the hallway, making sure the coast was clear, and sidled our way down the walls, careful not to brush off any of the ugly paintings. We checked every room down at this end of the house and, with great trepidation, every door. There were bedrooms, studies, game rooms, all untouched and unused, but nothing that would lead to a basement.

We stopped at the end of the hall and I rubbed my palms against my jeans. There was only one way for us to go, in the direction of the kitchen and Travis. I looked to Camden who closed his eyes and took a calming breath before giving me a short nod.

We crept back down the hall, my pulse quickening once we passed the safety zone of the library and the laundry room. Everything beyond this was unknown and occupied. It was going to take either a lot of luck or a lot of bullets to get us through this.

And first, we had to cross through the foyer.

We stopped at the edge of the wall and I peered quickly around it. The foyer was all marble and gaudy accents, tile floors and hanging chandeliers with a giant winding staircase leading up to the second floor. I could see through the front stain glass windows the shadows of two guards outside, seemingly closer to the door than the pair I had just seen.

I held up four fingers to Camden, letting him know there were four of them in total now. Four of them, two of us and who knew how many others there were in different parts of the compound. The odds were continually stacked against us.

Lightly, silently, as if we were running on air, Camden and I scampered across the foyer before we were spotted by anyone and didn’t even relax once we were safely behind the wall of the adjacent hallway. I could hear noises, clattering of pots and pans, coming from the room closest to us – the kitchen.

I motioned for Camden to stay still. I didn’t know what I was doing now. The fear inside was struggling to take over, to become free. But I wouldn’t let it. I would control my fear. I would use it in my favor, to work for me.

My fear was about to help me make some very hard decisions.

I crept silently over to the kitchen doorway, crouched low and poked my head around it. There was a man, his back to me thank god, putting away stuff in the fridge. I didn’t know if he was the same man I heard speaking to Travis earlier, but it didn’t matter. He had to be taken out if we were going to get out of here. The risk of him seeing us was far too great.