Mom’s blue eyes narrowed. “Colombia? But your dad took the MC down there. They brought back Ramirez’s body. They put his head on a pike. It was…bad. Garret even went with them. They said…” Her face twisted with pain. “They said Cali was dead too.”

“No,” I bit out. “And they didn’t even try to come in and see if we were there. It was the middle of the night. Security gave them Manuel’s body, and they just left. All they had to do was come inside, Mom. But they didn’t.”

“Wait until I get my hands on Jet Hannigan,” she growled, her entire body vibrating with her anger. “I’m going to kill him. All this time, and you could have been home with us. There was no reason for any of this pain. And Ryan… Oh God, Nova. Ryan hasn’t been the same. That poor boy—”

I clutched at her, cutting off whatever she was about to say about Ryan. “Mom, listen to me. You can do whatever you want to Dad and anyone else later. Right now, I need you. But more importantly, Cali needs you.”

Mom’s face softened. “Cali?”

“Yes, Mom, Cali. Or, as Garret calls her, Lis.” I grasped one of her hands. “I need you to come with me. Now.”

“Okay. Just let me call—”

“No.” That one word came out hard as steel, cutting her off again. “I need you to come with me now. I don’t want anyone to know where you’re going. They don’t deserve an explanation. They can just deal with you being gone for a little while.” She hesitated, but I wasn’t about to give in. Deep down, I knew that what I was asking was wrong, that it would make everyone who loved Mom worry, but my anger at them all made me want to punish them. None of them had come looking for me. Let them suffer. It was vindictive, but I found I didn’t give a fuck. “Mom, please. I need you more than anyone here possibly could right now. So does Cali…and your granddaughter.”

I drove the car off the cargo plane and straight to the house. Mom sat quietly in the seat beside me, her eyes wide as I stopped at the gate. The guard saw me and gave a wave before pushing a button in his little shack to open the gate.

As soon as I pulled up in front of the house, Guzman came out, his normally stoic face easing into a relieved smile. “Did you have any trouble?” he asked before turning his dark gaze to Mom, who was just getting out of the car.

“No, it was a smooth trip,” I assured him. “How is Cali?”

“Maria said the bleeding got a little worse last night. It is heavier than the spotting, but not so bad that we should call the doctor yet.”

“English, please,” Mom grumbled. “Or at least translate for me.”

I grimaced, having fallen back into speaking Spanish without realizing it. Guzman and Maria both understood English, but they weren’t comfortable speaking it, so the majority of the time, I spoke Spanish out of respect for them. Mom knew the basics, but as fast as I’d been talking to the head of security, she couldn’t keep up.