Lydia
“You shouldn’t be out here.”
Cruz’s raspy voice was calm as he tucked his gun into the back of his pants. I hadn’t overheard much, just that someone was checking something out for him and that he was on it. On what?
I’d seen him rushing to the edge of the property from my bedroom window, and since I’d studied the path the guards took each night, I knew I had a few minutes to follow behind him. Something wasn’t quite right with Cruz Ortiz. I just couldn’t put my finger on what that was yet.
Sometimes he talked as if he was my ally, like that evening in my room. Other times, he treated me like a prisoner he was standing guard over. Things just didn’t add up.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“I don’t have to. If Chavez catches you out here—” He raked his gaze over my body, the first time he’d given any indication that he liked what he saw. “Dressed like that, he’ll kill us both.”
“Then I guess you better start talking.”
“Lydia, you have no idea what you’re messing with. Drop it.”
“No. Tell me who you were talking to.”
Cruz’s nostrils flared as anger mottled his handsome face. It was the same way Lorenzo would get when he was angry. A tingling started at my spine, racing up my back and down my arms. I stepped slightly to the side so I could see his defined jaw in the blue moonlight. The little muscle in his jaw right below his ear jumped rhythmically beneath his skin. Just like Lorenzo’s.
Sure, lots of guys’ jaw muscles ticked when they were angry. And their nostrils flared. Many guys quirked their brows when intrigued or amused. But when you put it all together, all the little tells Lorenzo had, those little things that I’d studied and observed for two years while we were wrapped in each other’s embrace, all those things plus the fact that this man looked just like Lorenzo, only different. Well, it had to be him. Right?
But how? The marines had sent me a letter telling me of Lorenzo’s death. Why would they lie about it? And what was he doing here?
“What are you staring at?” Cruz’s voice broke through my thoughts, and, shaken at my discovery, I backed away.
“Nothing.”
“What’s wrong, Lydia? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Laughter shot out of me, and I clapped my hand over my mouth. A ghost? How appropriate.
“No, I’m fine. I’ll just go back inside.”
I hurried across the lawn, forgetting about where I was or how I was dressed. Cruz’s hand grabbed my elbow, spinning me around and pulling me up against his strong chest. A chest I was sure I’d lazily brushed my fingers over hundreds of times. Eleven. Years. Ago.
“Wait.” His voice was a whisper in my ear, stirring memories and emotions I’d worked all those years to suppress.
“Let me go.”
“Just wait.”
The guards passed by, talking and gesturing as we hid in the trees just feet away. They were completely unaware of our presence hiding there, thank God. When they left, Cruz released me.
“Go back to your room.”
I nodded, unable to say or do much of anything. I needed to think. To try and figure out how it could even be possible. Lorenzo Gallos had died due to his injuries in captivity. Reports had said he’d been burned badly across his torso and arms. He’d been beaten, his face unrecognizable when they’d found him. Starved and dehydrated; they’d said it was like looking at a wounded animal—abused and broken.
Tears filled my eyes. If this was Lorenzo, what had he endured three years ago? And how had he managed to go on living?
It was all so unbelievable, like something out of a movie, but then again, wasn’t my whole life like that at the moment? Kidnapped by a drug lord, forced to be his bride, estranged from my family and friends and work. Nothing about my life felt real these days.
I made it back to my room unseen, throwing myself on the bed and pondering what I’d discovered, or at least what I thought I’d discovered. There was no good reason a person would fake their death. Period.
And the fact that Lorenzo—or Cruz as he was going by now—was working for Chavez, that meant he’d returned back to the life of crime he’d turned to at eighteen. I had thought that the marines had broken him of that, but seeing him here working for such a creep wasn’t exactly a good indicator of a changed man who was a law-abiding citizen.
But then there was that phone call. Who had he been talking to? It almost sounded as if he were investigating something. Did that mean he worked for good guys? Or more bad guys?
The questions weren’t going to answer themselves. I jumped off the bed and went to the bathroom to go through my nightly routine of washing my face and brushing my teeth, then slipped under the Egyptian cotton sheets and stared up at the ceiling, waiting for sleep to come.
Just before I dozed off, I heard the tell-tale sound of the knob turning to my bedroom door. I sank lower under the covers in case it was Emilio going back on his word not to touch me until our wedding day. I closed my eyes as the light from the hallway swept across the room. Peeking slightly, I saw the large form of a shadow in the middle of the swab of light. The figure moved forward, coming just inside the room. The broad set of the shoulders could only belong to one person.
Cruz. Lorenzo. Whatever the hell his name was.
I waited, wondering what he was doing in my room. Several seconds passed before he turned around and closed the door behind him just as quietly as he’d entered.
Was he checking to make sure I was okay? Or making sure I’d followed his instructions?
I didn’t have an answer to those questions or the hundred other ones swirling in my mind. Finally, exhaustion overtook me, and I slept, dreaming of a wide chest and strong arms that had held me so tightly just hours before.
***
The next morning, I took great care with my appearance, wiping concealer over the bruise that had started to form across my cheekbone. Chavez had never hit me before. It wasn’t that he wasn’t capable of it. I knew what the rumors claimed he’d done to his first wife. I knew it was just a matter of time before he grew tired of me as well. I just hoped to find a way out of this mess before that happened.
I had been so careful to tiptoe around Chavez, hoping to stay in his good graces. If I played the part he wanted me to play, then maybe I’d earn his trust and find a way to escape. But last night was a setback I hadn’t seen coming, and it was a terrible foreshadowing of what my future looked like. His sleazy acquaintances thinking I’m ripe for the picking, and then Emilio taking it out on me when they made a move. After all, it was always the woman’s fault—right?
I snorted out loud, carefully dabbing on lipstick and mascara. I fluffed my hair and slipped into a green wrap dress that made my eyes pop, and nude ballet flats. When I had my armor in place, I opened the door—and ran right into a hard chest. The very same chest I’d dreamed about all night.
I could feel the heat climb up to my cheeks as I stepped back. Only, I wasn’t quite steady on my feet and wobbled, reaching out for the doorjamb. Cruz’s strong arms caught me and steadied me.
“Whoa, there. You okay?”
I looked into dark eyes that held compassion and an emotion I couldn’t quite put a name to. I nodded abruptly, gently removing my arms from his hold.
“I’m fine. Just lost my balance.”
The shutters came down over Cruz’s expression as he gave a quick jerk of a nod and then took a step back so I could pass by.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.”
We walked in silence as we headed downstairs to the kitchen. Chavez was an early riser and didn’t require my presence at breakfast. Pilar had stocked my favorite pastries and would lay out a plate of them in the dining room accompanied by coffee, juice, and water. It would have been nice that morning to also have an option to mix some champagne into the juice to settle my nerves.
Cruz’s watchful eyes followed my every move, and I wondered when he’d get around to reprimanding me for the night before. I didn’t have to wait long. As soon as my plate was loaded and my coffee was poured, I sat at the table. He took the seat across from me.
With a quick look around to ensure no one was in the room, he lowered his voice to barely above a whisper.
“What the hell were you thinking last night? Do you have any idea what kind of man you’re dealing with?”
Why was Cruz warning me about my future husband? Did he not worry that I’d tell Chavez about his less-than-flattering comments about him? It was more indication that something wasn’t what it seemed with Cruz Ortiz. I just had to figure out what that was.
“I don’t know what you mean.” In case he was reporting back to Emilio, I wasn’t about to be baited into saying anything disparaging about the man.
“You know exactly what I mean. Following me outside, dressed in lingerie—it’s a quick recipe for a brutal death. Mine and yours. From now on, you stay in your room at night. Don’t go wandering the grounds. It isn’t safe.”
“Who exactly are you protecting me from? Emilio? Or yourself?”
The muscle in his jaw raced rapidly as his nostrils flared.
“You know, I used to have a friend whose jaw ticked like that when he got angry.”
If the man could grow any more still, he did. Statue-like.
“Really.”
“Mmm-hmm.” I took a bite of the chocolate-hazelnut croissant and savored the flaky crust and warm filling. “Yes, it was quite a loss. I never got a chance to say goodbye or tell him all the things I’d been saving up over the many years we’d been separated.”
“Sometimes things are better left unsaid.”
“You think?” I shook my head. “No, I don’t agree. I think we should tell our loved ones exactly how we feel about them.”
“He was a loved one?”
“At one time, yes. He went down a troubled path for a couple of years, then joined the marines. He succumbed to his injuries after being held captive for several weeks.”
Cruz’s expression tightened, and he dropped his head.
“Sorry for your loss. But you really do need to be more careful. Do you understand?”
Change the subject much? “I understand perfectly.”
I smiled then, a bright I know your secret smile, and almost laughed out loud at Cruz’s change in demeanor. He cleared his throat—and was that…? Yep, he’d attempted to adjust his collar. Of his V-neck, black T-shirt.
Happy that I was getting under his skin, I stood, taking my plate with me, and waltzed into the kitchen to put it in the sink. Pilar was there already scrubbing dishes.
“Ms. Lydia, how many times do I have to tell you to just leave it on the table?”
Pilar was the one bright spot in being held against my will. She’d told me that she had started working for Chavez five years ago when she’d been desperate for a job. As a single mom with a sick child, her bills had been mounting higher and higher. She’d applied for the job, and Emilio had paid off the medical bills. It seemed like an act of compassion, but really, it was more about control. If Pilar was indebted to him, she wouldn’t turn on him or spy on him. Sometimes Chavez used honey and sometimes he used arsenic. There was never any rhyme or reason to his methods of controlling those in his employ.
“And how many times have I told you that my mama raised me better?”
Pilar shot me an affectionate smile and took the plate from my hands. “I see you chose the hazelnut?”
“Can’t pass up chocolate hazelnut.”
“I knew you’d like that one. I’ll order more.”
I squeezed her tight in a one-armed hug. “Thank you, for taking care of me.”
“My pleasure, carita.”
When I turned to leave, Cruz was right on top of me, and I practically ran into him.
“Do you mind?” I hissed under my breath, hoping to not draw attention to myself. Pilar giggled, though, so I realized I hadn’t been as sneaky as I’d thought.
The side of Cruz’s mouth tilted up in a smirk, and he took a step back, motioning me past him. I could feel him hot on my heels as I walked through the hallway.
My days at Chateau Chavez were rather boring. I could sit by the pool, but that meant being in a bathing suit all day while the creeps who worked for Chavez walked by purposely to catch a glimpse. The bathing suits Chavez had chosen for me left very little to the imagination. So, yeah, that wasn’t happening.
I decided to hang out in the library, snuggled in a furry blanket to ward off the immense chill of the air conditioning, while reading a book I’d been able to grab when out with Cruz on one of our excursions. No tablet or phone for me, so everything I read had to be hard copy. I missed my e-reader tremendously.
I paused in the hallway, causing Cruz to run into the back of me.
“Why are you following so close?”
“Last time I gave you any room, you got attacked in a bathroom and then snuck out of your room half-naked.”
“Last I checked, I was an adult and perfectly capable of making my own decisions.”
“That’s questionable.” He muttered the words under his breath, but not low enough.
“Listen, you—” I jabbed him in the chest with my finger. “I’m sick and tired of—”
Cruz’s hand clamped over my mouth, and he dragged me back against him into the nearest room. Or closet. It was a closet. What the hell?
I struggled against him, trying to free myself from his hold.
“Shh.” The word came breathlessly against the shell of my ear, sending tingles down my back.
Slowly, he pulled his hand away from my mouth and put his finger to his lips. Then he cracked the door just a smidge to peek out. It was then that I heard the heated voices.
“You assured me your boss was willing to meet with me this evening. Now you tell me he’s unwilling to do so?”
“Things change. This is one of those things.”
“I do not accept this. If you want that shipment on time, I need to know who I’m meeting with.”
“Unfortunately, sir, you do things on our time now. Not the other way around.”
“Do you have any idea who you’re dealing with?”
A loud thump against the wall almost had me shrieking out loud. Cruz shook his head, his eyes begging me to stay quiet. I nodded silently and put a hand over my own mouth. A reminder to keep it shut.
“You’re used to being king. Unfortunately there’s a new king in town. Time to get used to it.”
Footsteps sounded as another loud bang resounded on the wall. I jumped, keeping my hand tightly over my mouth. Curses in Spanish sounded outside the door followed by Chavez’s voice.
“Juan Carlos! Santiago! My office. Now!”
The second set of footsteps grew softer and softer. I made a move to leave, but Cruz held me back in the closet. His breath was warm against my cheek, his hand firmly gripping my waist. I looked up into his dark-brown eyes, and his too perfect face. He was watching me, his gaze lowering to my lips.
Subconsciously, I wet them, hoping for—what? That he’d kiss me? Did I want him to? I didn’t trust him. Had no idea what he was doing, who he was working with. Was he a good guy? A bad guy? At this point, it was anyone’s guess. And what would happen if Chavez found us?
Death. Slow, torturous death.
I looked away, and Cruz took a step back.
“Who was that?” I kept my voice a whisper.
“Angel Rubio. Know him?”
“I’ve heard his name bantered about between Santiago and Juan Carlos.”
I hated those two. They’d been the ones to snatch me from the clinic, Santiago flipping over his damn knife, taunting me with it, waiting for me to make a wrong move and give him an excuse to use it.
“What did they say?”
“I wasn’t really paying attention, Cruz. Something about a shipment going out in a few days. That was a couple of days ago. They didn’t know I was in the room.”
I’d been reading in the library, and the two thugs had stepped inside to chat. When I’d realized they were talking about stuff I wasn’t supposed to know, I’d sunk lower on the chaise lounge, hoping they’d finish and leave. Fortunately, I’d been lucky that day.
Cruz glanced outside the closet, and nodded at me to follow. “Let’s go.”
I followed behind, thinking about that moment in the closet when I’d been sure I’d sensed Cruz’s attraction to me. In a perfect world, maybe I’d explore the tension that had simmered between us. But this wasn’t a perfect world. And the consequences of giving in to my desires would be deadly.
My mind was lost in thought, and it wasn’t until we’d arrived at the door to my room that I realized where we were.
“Wait. I wanted to spend the day in the library.”
“No. You’ll stay in here today.
“I’m not staying in my room all day. I’m not a rebellious teenager needing punishment from her dad.”
“I’ve got some things to do. Which means I can’t afford to babysit you all day.”
“I don’t need a babysitter.” My voice had risen to a level I wasn’t used to using, but I was so tired of not having any say in my life. “I’m going to sit in the library and read. How much trouble could I possibly get into?”
Cruz turned, muttering something under his breath that sounded a lot like “a whole lot” mixed with some creative swear words. I stomped after him, ready to give him a piece of my mind, when he stopped abruptly, and I ran headfirst into his muscular back. He spun around, his hands flying to my shoulders and pulling me closer to him. I couldn’t breathe or speak or move. Just stared into his gorgeous brown eyes and waited.
Cruz’s gaze lingered on my lips, then moved over my face as if remembering and memorizing all at the same time. “Please, Lydia. I’m begging you. Stay here.”
Then he leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on my forehead.
He left, locking the door from the outside, and I just stood there. Dumbfounded. That kiss had seemed so tender, as if he felt something for me. As if he knew me, and not as a prisoner in Chavez’s house, but a familiarity that went back years. A friendship and more.
It only confirmed what I already knew in my heart.
Lorenzo Gallos was alive.