The Beasts of Juarez R.B. Schow (reading the story of the .TXT) 📖

up no matter how tired you are. And let Tyler know we’re on our way and that he should be there as well.”

“Mr. Wentworth,” Camden, his voice desperate and emotional, asked “can you guarantee me their safety?”

“No,” Leopold said. “But I will guarantee their return.”

For a second, Leopold thought he heard the man gulp. Leopold didn’t have a vacation home in Switzerland—although he could if he wanted to—and he wouldn’t decapitate the man if he didn’t keep up his end of the deal. That was just a bluff. But if the congressman fell short of any of his promises, Leopold would leave it up to the team on how they wanted to proceed.

Estella would gut him like a pig, but she was a psycho about things like that, so maybe he’d leave it up to Yergha. He was the more level-headed of the two and would likely break a lot of the man’s bones. He’d probably enjoy the hell out of it, though. After all, Yergha only got into this business because Leopold promised him he could hurt and maybe even kill a few crooked politicians.

Chapter Ten

SYDNEY FOX

“What are you going to do to my daughters?” Sydney asked, her voice sounding so lost, so far away. When Santiago refused to answer her, she got louder. “Where are you taking them?”

“They’re going here and there,” Santiago said with the lackadaisical wave of a hand. “Follow me. I want to show you the house.”

When she didn’t move, one of Santiago’s goons stepped up behind her and said, “He isn’t asking.”

She turned and appraised the man. He was at least seven feet tall and big—mostly muscle, but some fat, too. And mean looking. Good God, the look in his eyes was terrifying!

“Go,” he growled, looking down his nose at her.

There was a sickness in this man’s eyes Sydney couldn’t dismiss, a clenching of the jaw, a grinding of his molars that could only be described as raw hatred restrained. For a second, he was looking at her like he wanted to pull her apart the same way some kids pull the legs off spiders. She refused to look at him a moment longer.

The mansion before her boasted beautiful views of the city below, but there were also several hillsides around them and the face of the mountain behind the house. They were completely secluded and far enough away that no one could hear her scream. As she walked toward the house, she heard only the sounds of a calm, quiet desert interrupted by the faraway barking of either a coyote or someone’s dog.

Inside the massive home, Santiago strutted through the interior common areas showing her the chef’s kitchen, the expansive living room, the doors that opened to a huge outdoor pool with the mountains as a part of the backdrop. And then he showed her the bedrooms.

“There are fifteen rooms in all,” he said as they walked down a long tall corridor with arched ceilings and soft up-lighting. “The master bedroom is the best room, of course. But thirteen of the fifteen rooms are for guests.”

“Guests?” she heard herself ask.

“A lot of people stay here, Mrs. Fox. Some are distinguished guests while others are forced to stay here against their will. And some merely end up here because I want them here. They stay in the fourteenth room. This is a junior suite, which is almost as nice as my master bedroom. Guess which room you are getting?”

“The worst of them all?” she mumbled.

“The fourteenth room,” Santiago said, delighted. “I know you are in pain, for the loss of a child, of children, can unleash a torrent of emotion, especially inside of a mother such as yourself.”

“You have no idea what I’m feeling,” she seethed.

“True,” he replied. “I was married once, and I had a child, too, a little boy. Oh, the dreams I had for that child!”

“Is he dead?” she asked, pumping cruelty into her voice.

He paused, then stopped and faced her. “As a matter of fact, he is. Both my son and my wife have passed. You might be wondering if this happened as a result of my…occupation, but it was not that at all. My son caught my wife having an affair with a friend of mine. He failed to inform me of this…indiscretion, this…betrayal. My son’s mother poisoned his brain with threats and fear, eventually turning him against his own father’s interests. But then my brother found out. If not for his loyalty, his honor, I might never have known. He came to me right away because he is a good brother and that’s what brothers do for each other.”

“What happened to your family?” she asked, wanting him to get to the point.

“I slaughtered them. It was the saddest day of my life.”

She swallowed, horrified. “I bet,” she said softly.

“I could have killed them with dignity, you know? Two bullets to the chest, one to the head. Then I thought, where is the suffering in that? Where is the real payback? At that time, my heart had been so full of love, of life. Then she burned those emotions from me.” He put his hand over his heart and said, “She turned this soft organ tissue into…into fucking tire tread. My heart once beat with adoration for my wife and son, but the moment I learned the truth, hatred and the need for vengeance shoved any and all love from my broken heart.”

“What did you do to them?” she asked, looking directly into his eyes for the first time.

“I took their lives with a chainsaw,” he said without an ounce of emotion.

“You’re a monster,” she heard herself say, unable to exert any control over her emotions, or the