Silvana pours another shot and holds it out to me. “Change your mind?”

I take the glass, and she laughs when I throw it back in a single gulp. “What do you want?”

“I want you to convince your papi that resuming our business relationship will be beneficial for everyone involved. Particularly for you.”

“Resuming?” I want to call her a liar again, but she wouldn’t be so confident in her verbal arsenal if she were shooting blanks.

Yet I know better than anyone that the truth can be twisted. Their business dealings could have been perfectly innocent.

“Until nine months ago, your father shipped our product all over the world.”

“Your product?” I stare at Silvana, waiting for the punch line.

“Snow.” She frowns. “You know—dust. Blow. Cocaína.”

I roll my eyes. “I know what it is. I just don’t believe you.”

I have no illusion that my father is a saint. In international shipping, as in any business, palms have to be greased and sometimes votes have to be bought. But there are lines he would never cross. “My dad would never work with you or with Gael Moreno.” I stand and grab my bag.

“Oh, niña. Do you truly believe your father built a multi-billion dollar shipping company in under two decades because he’s a brilliant businessman? Or because he poured his heart and soul into the company? What he poured into Genesis Shipping is drug money. We gave him the means to expand early in his career. To invest in advancements. To buy out competitors. We did that because he knows who to pay off in customs and how to take the product off our narco subs and load it onto his ships in the middle of the gulf, without being seen. I laughed when you were born, and he renamed his dirty empire!” Her smile is a bitter parody of joy, mocking my pain. “Genesis Shipping is a tribute to his only child. The one thing in the world that he loves more than the company itself.”

Numb, I shake my head. “Bullshit. My father worked for everything he has. He deserves all of it.” Everything he’s given me.

“Yes, he works very hard, niña.” Silvana’s laughter bruises me all the way into my soul. “Until nine months ago, your father was the most successful drug trafficker in the world.”

MADDIE

I stare through the tree line, so relieved to see the crystalline Caribbean coast that I can practically taste the salt water. I want to fall to my knees in the sand, but we can’t just stroll down the beach like tourists. We have to follow the shore from the cover of the jungle so we’ll see anyone on the beach before they see us.

Because we’re within radio range of Silvana’s men.

As we pick our way through yet more dense vegetation, I have to bite my tongue to keep from channeling Neda.

The beach is right there. My legs ache for the faster, easier pace of packed sand. My gaze keeps sliding back to the rifle. If I could think of a plausible excuse to take it from Luke, I would.

I need to be ready the moment we find Julian.

Luke pulls his cell phone from his pocket and angles it toward the beach. I check the screen. Still no signal.

“Hey, Shawn?” Tim’s voice calls over the radio, and Luke and I freeze in a thick patch of undergrowth. “I’m not going to make it back in time to help load the subs.”

“Subs?” I mouth silently to Luke.

He shrugs, staring at the radio. He still hardly looks at me.

“Got it.” Shawn’s response is shot through with static. “We’ll . . . without you. Hey, have . . . from Moisés yet? Silvana’s furious.”

“Not a word.” The signal from Tim is much stronger.

Shawn unleashes a static-riddled stream of curses, but Luke and I share a relieved smile.

“What’s going on over there?” Tim asks.

“. . . lost two of the VIPs,” Shawn says. “The boy’s confirmed KIA . . . sister . . . off a cliff . . . hasn’t washed up yet. Moisés . . . off the grid too.”

Luke frowns. “Moisés must have managed to untie himself.”

“Then why don’t they know where he is?” I shake my head, though the answer seems obvious. He’s afraid to go back to Silvana until he catches us. Or they haven’t yet looked for him at the bunkhouse.

“The static means Shawn’s farther away, right?” I whisper, and Luke nods.

“So they’re down to one VIP?” Tim whistles over the static. “God help us all when the boss finds out.”

In the silence that follows, Luke looks up from the radio to stare at me in astonished confusion. “You’re a VIP.”

Well, that’s a first. “Let me know if you find the velvet rope section of the jungle.”

“What do you think it means?” he asks as we continue on a covered path parallel to the beach, and I’m so glad he’s talking to me after hours of near silence that I don’t even care how morbid the topic is.

“They were probably hoping for triple the ransom from my uncle, for me, Ryan, and Genesis. But why would they care about finding my body?”

“Maybe they think your uncle will pay to get it back,” Luke says softly. “You know. For a proper burial.”

The bastards want to ransom my corpse. Does that mean they plan to dig my brother up?

My eyes close as the horrific scene plays out in my head.

I won’t let that happen.

I open my eyes, fresh fury burning in my gut. I failed Ryan in life, but I will damn well have his back now.

14 HOURS EARLIER

GENESIS

Silvana’s heartless laughter drowns out everything but the roar of my pulse in my ears.

Across the clearing, Indiana stands. He can see that something is wrong, but I shake my head, telling him to stay back. I don’t want him to hear any of this.

Drug trafficker.

My father quit working for Moreno nine months ago.

Uncle David died nine months ago.

There are no coincidences.

My voice is an angry whisper. “Did my dad stop working for you because you killed his brother, or was it the other way around?”

“Brother . . . ?” Silvana laughs again, but this time the humor doesn’t reach her eyes. She’s not going to answer my question. No one wants to talk about what happened to my uncle.