Chapter 6
Carmen Robles tried to run at 4:17 that afternoon.
She’d packed two large suitcases full of cash, jewelry, and important documents. She’d booked a private jet to Cabo San Lucas under a fake name. She’d even arranged for a new passport to be waiting for her at the airport.
She never made it out of the hotel parking garage.
Marcus and his team had been watching the exits since Alexander left that morning. When the elevator doors opened on the P3 level, they were waiting.
Carmen tried to play it cool at first.
“Is there a problem, gentlemen?” she asked, smoothing her dress. “I have a flight to catch.”
Marcus stepped forward. He was a big man—ex-military, calm, unshakable.
“Actually, ma’am,” he said, “there’s a problem with your bank accounts. Seems they’ve all been frozen. Court order. Signed twenty minutes ago.”
Carmen’s smile vanished.
“What?”
“Every account,” Marcus said. “Checking. Savings. Investment. Safety deposit boxes. Even the offshore ones in the Caymans. You can’t buy so much as a stick of gum right now, let alone a private jet.”
He held up a piece of paper.
“Also,” he said, “there’s a restraining order. You’re not to leave the state of Texas. You’re not to come within one thousand feet of Elena Voss or Sofia Voss-Robles. And you’re required to surrender your passport to the district attorney’s office by five o’clock today.”
Carmen’s face went from shock to fury in the space of a heartbeat.
“That man,” she spat. “Alexander Voss. He thinks he can throw his money around and ruin me? He has no idea who he’s dealing with. I’ve been in this city thirty years. I have friends. Powerful friends. Judges. Politicians. Police captains. By this time tomorrow, that restraining order will be toilet paper and his little lawsuit will be dismissed.”
She tried to walk past him.
Marcus didn’t move.
“With all due respect, ma’am,” he said, “your friends have already been called. Every single one of them. And they all said the same thing.”
He leaned down slightly.
“They said they don’t know you.”
The color drained from Carmen’s face.
“That’s not possible,” she whispered. “I’ve done favors for those people. I have things on them. They can’t just—”
“They can,” Marcus said. “And they did. Because when Alexander Voss calls and asks someone to choose between you and him? Everyone chooses him. Every single time.”
He stepped aside.
“Your car is right there,” he said. “But I’d think very carefully before I tried to get on that plane. The FAA already has your tail number flagged. You’d be in handcuffs before you reached the runway.”
Carmen stood there in the parking garage for a long time. Her suitcases at her feet. Her empire crumbling around her.
Then she did something no one expected.
She laughed.
It wasn’t a nice sound. High and sharp and desperate.
“Fine,” she said, more to herself than to Marcus. “He wants to play dirty? I can play dirty too. He thinks he has all the cards? We’ll see about that.”
She got in her car and drove away.
Marcus called Alexander immediately.
“She didn’t take it well,” he said. “She’s going to try something. I don’t know what yet. But she’s not the type to go quietly.”
Alexander nodded.
“Double the guard on the apartment,” he said. “And put a team on her. Everywhere she goes. Everyone she talks to. I want to know if she so much as buys a pack of gum.”
That evening, the six women who’d helped Carmen beat Sofia started getting visits.
One by one.
First was Maria, the oldest of the group. A woman in her fifties who’d been doing Carmen’s dirty work for fifteen years. Two plainclothes detectives showed up at her door just as she was sitting down to dinner. They had warrants. They had recovered text messages. They had Sofia’s testimony.
Maria caved in eleven minutes.
She told them everything. How Carmen had paid each of them five thousand dollars to be there. How they’d held Sofia’s arms. How Carmen had slapped her again and again. How they’d all laughed. How Javier had stood outside the door the whole time.
She named names.
She gave dates.
She even told them where Carmen kept the belt she’d used—the one with the heavy gold buckle that had left the marks on Sofia’s back.
By midnight, four of the six women had given full statements.
The other two tried to lawyer up.
But their lawyers took one look at the evidence Alexander had amassed and gave them the same advice:
“Turn on Carmen. Or you’re going to prison for ten years.”
By morning, all six were cooperating.
May you like
Carmen was alone.
And she knew it.
