I watch as they shoot my father, as she rounds the corner. The bodyguard, her gun drawn, and her bullets, deadly, accurate, too late. Then she races to my father's side and falls to her knees. He's dead. She looks up at me, fear in her eyes. Not sadness, not grief. Shock maybe. Doesn't matter. I don't know her relationship with the old man, and now, I don't care. He ruled her, dictated every move she made. A deadly, trained and beautiful viper. She lived under his shadow, she needed him. But now he's dead and she belongs to me. I won't give her a chance to flee.Our other men have arrived, minutes too late. Lena doesn't notice. I nod to my cousin, Arturo, then to Lena. He slams his fist into her head, and she crumples. A vision. Someone I'm hungry for, someone I can't get out of my mind. But not right now. Later.Arturo frees me as more men arrive. I have no time to grieve for my father. Arturo picks up Lena and carries her to the waiting car. Throws her in the back seat. "Restraints
When I wake up, I'm alone in a room. I'm naked, blood of my victims still on me. I want to vomit my head hurts so much. I have no weapons even though that doesn't make me helpless. But it leaves me vulnerable.I drop a hand between my legs, check for soreness, inflammation, violation. Nothing. I'm not sure if I'm relieved by this. I assume I've been kept alive for a reason and that, eventually, they'll fuck me before killing me. It might have been better if they'd gotten it over with while I was unconscious.There is a bathroom off the room I am in. Small and dirty, but it has a shower. I use the toilet, then turn on the shower, letting the trickle of cold water wash the blood off me. There's no towel, no soap, but I am better without the blood. A small mirror shows the bruises on my face. When I was slapped by one of the kidnappers, then the punch to my temple, bruising the side of my cheek. I'm thirsty and try to scoop water from the tap into my hand and up to my mouth. A little ge
My desire to break Lena overwhelms every other thought I have. I want to beat her into submission, fuck her until she's begging me. The look in her eyes drives my fury. She's afraid, but not. She knows what I'm capable of, thinks she can withstand it until she has an opening to fight back, to kill me, to flee.She underestimates me because she thinks of me as my father's son. It's unfortunate for her. She thinks I hate her but she's wrong. She was seconds late from saving my father. She saved my life. It's admirable, but it eats at me. That she bested five men with weapons. That she did what I could not.After I kick Arturo out, I have a moment to think without his constant stream of vitriol. Just me and Lena. She's chained and cuffed to the floor. Naked and dirty. The way I want her and it's making me hard. I wonder how to break her. Through force, through seduction? Through humiliation? I know who she is and what she's been through, but it doesn't evoke sympathy. I don't have those
Who killed your father?It had been stupid of me to push Luis like that. But there was something about his grief, his deeply entrenched rage over Manuel's death that called to me, forced the words past my lips. I think I know who killed his father, was trying to kill Luis, had worked it out almost immediately after we'd been taken. And if I'm right, then Luis is still in grave danger.I don't know why I care. He and I have been at odds since my arrival in the organization. At worst, I knew he wanted to get his hands on me, wanted to get me alone to pit his strength against mine, prove to his father that I am an unnecessary inconvenience for a man of his stature. At best, Luis was coolly indifferent to me. His chilling gaze following my movements whenever we were in the same room together.Now, I'm in the exact position he's always wanted me in. Tied up, ready to be used, at his mercy. If I'm going to have any chance at survival, I need him to see the truth of the kidnapping, the exe
As a male member of the Ramirez family, I have a patent disregard for women. It was nurtured from birth. Women are either sluts, or angels to be worshipped. There is no in-between. The sluts are for fucking, the angels for marrying. It's that simple in my world. Except it's not. Because some of the wives are smarter than their husbands, some are crazy, some are competitive and all of them want power. Even my mother, who had more of everything than most women.She died in a car accident when I was eight. That was the story I was told back then. Now I know that my father had her killed. His angel became a slut. Tired of my father and his treatment of her, she thought to betray him. One beating too many was the story most often told, so she sought out his enemy, offered herself and her information. It worked for a while, but deception is not something that can be sustained. Too many lies, too easy to get caught with an inconsistency. Something forgotten.Now it's my father's death that
Broken.He managed to break me and he barely touched me. I'm lying on my side curled around the water jug, tears dripping steadily off my face and onto the concrete beneath me. I try to tell myself to get up, to move, to shift closer to the door where I can smash him with the jug next time he comes in. I do none of this. I'm paralyzed. My first orgasm. Forced on me by an enemy. Shame and humiliation fight for the top position, along with terror. I had been prepared for violence, for rape. To be taken with no thoughts to my pleasure, my feelings. This… this is the ultimate mindfuck. With the cresting wave of my orgasm he released something else. A secret part of myself I hold onto so tight that no one is ever supposed to see. The woman that yearns, that wants things.I can't want things. I'm a machine. Built to protect. This is how I survive. I bury that woman, the woman who wants more out of life, so deep that she'll never see the light. Somehow, with those few touches, his finger
I open my eyes. Luis is crouched over top of me, the buttons of his shirt undone, his long hair loose and disheveled as though he's been running frustrated fingers through it. I briefly catch the edge of concern in his dark gaze, but my body reacts, almost independently of thought. He's kneeling next to me, his hands on my flesh, the memory of his dream monster still fresh.I shove his chest, pushing him back. He's off balance for a split second which allows me to lunge to the side. I bring the jug down on the concrete, smashing it. I grip a broken shard and swing it around toward him. He shifts backward and reaches for his gun. His eyes are alight with fury and something else. Maybe anticipation. Or perhaps expectation. I don't know and I don't have time to think about it. I hurl myself at him, knocking his gun hand aside while aiming for his jugular with the shard.He snatches my hair in his other hand and drags my head back. I expected the move and aim a kick toward his stomach. H
I watch her as she looks around my bedroom, a quick assessing glance, before she lets out a shallow breath, squeezes her eyes shut, and rolls to her side. She folds in on herself, exposing her back and ass. The livid crisscross of marks from my belt stand as my accuser, my inability to manage my anger. I wonder at the regret that sits hard in my chest, an unusual emotion for me.In the stark light of my bedroom I see she's not perfect, not flawless. She has a body well-used. Cigarette burns on the back of her bicep and both her thighs, several scars from whipping or belting on her back, her ass and her legs. Faint lines on her wrists and her ankles where she'd been restrained in past. The pucker of a bullet hole in her shoulder and another further down, just below her rib cage. And three deep scars down her right side. Clean slashes, the first a long one, then a shorter one, then a small one. Deliberate. To mark her as property.Anger burns in me as I clench my hands, but not at her
"Mama!" Cristo and Sola throw themselves into Luna's arms as she hits her knees in the dirt outside our home at The Site, heedless of the damage she's doing to her silk trousers. I think she said they were Valentino or something. I don't usually pay attention to the brands unless they're sexy enough that I want her to do a little extra shopping.I chuckle as she lands kisses all over their faces, tries to answer the questions they're peppering her with while pulling gifts from the bags she's carrying. I know they will notice me in a few minutes once they get over their initial mama obsession. Though we passed off that late night mad dash Miami boat ride as a vacation, the children know better. They felt the tension, the fear. They remember Luna's tears, her cries as they were being hauled away. Cristo is particularly protective of Luna now. He watches her like a hawk and becomes grumpy when she needs to leave for more than a day. He was unbearable the days leading up to this recent va
I can hear something beeping and it annoys me. I hear voices talking in hushed tones, then a man's voice raised in anger. I hear sneakers squeaking on the floor. Cool hands touch my arm, poke and prod me. These things all annoy me. I'm pretty sure death shouldn't be so fucking annoying. The beeping, the hushed voices, everything, they all suck balls.I want to say something. Open my mouth and tell them all to fuck off. To bring me my sun chair and margarita. I earned some tasty booze, I earned heaven. I tried to be a good mother and wife. I tried to be the best! Maybe I was a failure, but it wasn't for lack of trying. I died trying to be the best I could be. I earned better than this annoying bullshit, whatever this is.It takes me a few hours… or maybe a few days, I'm really not sure since I can't seem to open either my mouth or my eyes, to figure out that this isn't heaven. Thank God! I'm probably not even dead. Death shouldn't suck this much. Awareness comes to me in flashes, some
Buzz, buzz, buzz…I wake up, instantly alert, my hand hitting the bed next to me. Fuck, she's gone. I know exactly what's happened, though I pray that we aren't under attack, that Luna hasn't been taken somehow. Impossible. No one knows about this place. She's left, trying to get back to our children on her own. If she manages to get off the property she could easily be taken by an enemy if she makes a wrong move, if she's detected in a place she shouldn't be. All of us Decenas have targets on our backs. Luna knows this, but she's desperate, exhausted, hurt. She might make a mistake.And once she's home, if she says the wrong thing to the wrong person, her life will be taken. She's too emotional to think clearly, she needs me by her side, tempering her reactive nature. I should have tied her to the bed. Shouldn't have slept so hard. Shouldn't have had that tequila. I should have known she'd run the first moment she had a chance. Our children mean everything to her.All this runs thr
I wake up feeling warm, surrounded by the familiar scent of my husband. For a moment, just a single moment, I think we're back home at The Site, our children just down the hall in their rooms, the nanny in hers, the cook about to prepare breakfast. As realization hits, a spike of pain pierces me and it's everything I can do not to throw Andres' arms from my body. I try to keep my breathing even so I don't wake him up.My mind is racing. He intends to keep me here, forever. He wants to take me away from our children. I understand why. Or at least I'm trying to, but it hurts so much. He thinks giving me a new child, one that his family doesn't know about, will solve everything. I don't want a secret child. I want Cristo and Sola. I want my babies. They fill my mind until they're all I can think about; their sound, their smell, everything about them. I lay next to Andres obsessing about my babies until I become consumed by my thoughts.I think hard, trying to figure out what to do. I'm
I look down at my sleeping wife where her head rests next to my hip and take another sip of my tequila. I skipped the shot glass and poured myself a nice big tumbler after Luna cried herself to sleep. She refused to allow me to hold her, offer her comfort. Only after she fell asleep did I cover her with a blanket and sit next to her, smoothing my hand over her lush curves. She's so exhausted she doesn't even notice my touch as she slumbers.I wish there was another way, but I know there isn't. She's too much of a loose cannon. She can't be trusted. She's fucked up too many times. If she does anything else stupid, does it around Charlie, Nic or the Los Zetas, her life really will be forfeit. Which means my life would be forfeit as well. Because this moment in our lives, this desperate snapshot, has taught me that Luna really is my anchor to this life. I am nothing without her. If she dies, then so do I. I'll go to my brother, tell him she betrayed me, stole my children, fucked me ove
It's morning and we've been here for a full day. I still don't know where here is. Andres has left to pick up groceries and other supplies. While he's away I decide to go for a walk. I pull on a fuchsia tank top and a pair of white shorts that show off my tanned legs. I find a pair of cheap floppy sandals in the bottom of the duffel bag and pull them out. They have those plastic things that go between the toes. I make a face, deciding grimly that Andres really must have been planning on killing me because no way would I have worn these unless I had no other choice except death.I smile and stretch my arms wide, welcoming the sun as I step out the front door. My problems feel as though they melt away in the warmth that touches my bare skin. Most of our family and friends think that we named our daughter Sola because my name is Luna, because she is the sun to my moon. This is only partly true. We named her this way because I have always been a worshipper of the sun, because she lights u
"You've been here before, haven't you," she murmurs, her voice a husky whisper against my throat.We've been sitting together in silence for nearly a quarter of an hour, naked in each other's arms. I have an excellent internal clock so I can usually tell the time, even when there is no clock available. It doesn't surprise me that Luna is the first to break our silence. What does surprise me is how long it took for her to speak. I stroke the hair from her face in gentle swipes, sifting my fingers through the silky strands. Despite the topic of conversation we are about to discuss I feel completely relaxed, still basking in the afterglow of great sex."Yes, I've been here several times," I tell her. "I own this house and the land it sits on."She nods and I know this revelation doesn't shock her. She's a smart woman, she probably figured out who owned the land as soon as we arrived. Decena men like to be in control of their surroundings. I wouldn't have brought my wife, in such a deli
He drags me toward him until our faces are almost touching, my lips grazing the bristly hairs of his chin where he hasn't shaved in days. His elbows are braced on his knees. "Look at me," he growls. With extreme difficulty I lift my eyes, past his wide jaw and perfect, sharp features to his blue eyes. They are blazing at me like a wounded animal. A wolf who has been cornered and doesn't know a way out except to fight. My throat catches in sympathy. I know how much he hates the darkness, the terrible side of his job. I despise the idea that I crossed over from being his comfort to another thing that draws him toward the darkness.I lift a shaking hand and touch the edge of his jaw, running my fingers along the length toward his lips. I savour the feel of his roughness against my skin. This is real, this is my husband. The man that has cherished me for five years. Held me in his arms countless times, given me the gift of his children.I reach up with my other hand and cup his other c
I wake up alone surrounded by shadows. I bolt upright, clutching a blanket against my chest because I don't recognize anything. Remembrance returns slowly along with aching pain throughout my body, particularly my arm. I'm thirsty but the terrible swollen pain in my throat tells me that a drink will be agony. I push a hand through my hair, fingering the knots from the long strands. I wonder what time it is. Normally I would check my phone, but that's definitely not an option since I left my phone in Mexico and the burner phone in Cuba. I don't feel very rested or refreshed so I know I haven't slept for long. A shudder runs through me as I think about what Andres did to me. I understand why he did it, but the pain of it is so overwhelming I can feel my mind trying to fold. My husband tried to kill me. He wrapped his hand around my throat, held me down and squeezed the breath from my body. For those few moments he put his cartel, his brothers, his birthright above me. He put me in my