Lydia
The sun filtered through the curtains in my room as little birds chirped their good mornings. I blinked my eyes open, cringing at the bright light that burned my sensitive retinas. I pressed gently against the lids, the swollen, puffy flesh sore to the touch. I must have cried myself to sleep, but I couldn’t remember why.
I shifted, moving to sit up, when blinding pain lanced through my body, nausea roiled in my stomach, and the horror of what I’d endured the night before came rushing back.
Chained to the ceiling in the basement, my hands high above my head, my feet barely touching the ground.
Juan Carlos and his evil smile as he let the whip fall repeatedly over my back.
The screams that tore from my throat without my permission. I’d tried to gird myself in between lashes, but the burn that lanced through my back overwhelmed everything else, even my mind and self-control.
The satisfied grin on Chavez’s face as I received my punishment for embarrassing him and being such a whore. His words, not mine.
Shortly after Cruz had left the table, Chavez had dismissed Salvador, his associate, and his prisoner—there was no denying that his arm candy wasn’t aware of much of what was going on around her, and I doubted she’d attached herself to him of her own free will. Once they’d left, he’d taken me to his bedroom. I had thought he would rape me, but he’d simply requested that I disrobe and that we’d get on with our sexual relationship before the wedding. When I’d insisted that I wanted to wait, he’d nodded calmly and led me down the hall.
It was after we’d passed my bedroom and he’d led me down the stairs to the basement door that I’d begun to worry.
“Please, Emilio. Please don’t do this.”
“You’ve left me little choice, cara.”
The bastard had stripped me himself, baring me entirely, and chained my arms above me. When Juan Carlos entered the room, his whip in hand, my knees had buckled, jerking my arms almost out of their sockets.
“Fifty lashes.”
Those were his only words, as he’d stood back and watched as Juan Carlos had flogged me fifty times with his whip. By the end of it, I was barely coherent. Chavez had called for Pilar who’d taken me to my room.
I glanced around the room and found her asleep in the chair pulled up next to my bed. When I tried to move, pain ricocheted through my body, and a small yelp escaped. Pilar’s eyes flew open, and she rushed to my side.
“Oh, carita, be still. Let me look.”
I stopped moving and held still so Pilar could check the wounds on my back.
“How bad is it?”
“Not terribly so. Lots of bruising. You shouldn’t scar, I don’t think. If you do, it won’t be terribly noticeable.”
“Thank you.” I reached out and grabbed her hand in mine, squeezing affectionately.
“I’m so sorry, carita.”
“Me too.”
“You’ll feel better in a couple of days. Most of the damage is under the skin. For now, you must rest, sí?”
“Sí. Gracias por tú compassión.” Thank you for your compassion.
“El gusto es mío.” The pleasure is mine.
“Why do you stay?” I asked the question quietly, hoping Pilar wouldn’t be offended by it.
“Señor Chavez would consider it a great insult after what he did for me. Until my girls are safely out of the house and into college, I will continue to work for him.”
“You’ll leave then?”
She nodded solemnly, the expression on her face telling the whole story. If he would allow her to.
Pilar handed me two pills and a small glass of water. I lifted slightly to toss them down my throat and sip the water.
“I’ll bring some food by shortly. Until then, get some rest.”
Pilar left then, and I heard the quiet snick of the door closing. It wasn’t long before the exhaustion and the pain was too much, and I closed my eyes and let sleep overtake me.
When I woke the second time, it was to someone stroking my hair away from my face. It felt nice, comforting. I smiled and opened my eyes.
Chavez sat next to me, a sad smile on his face. I jerked away from his touch, but the pain in my back was overwhelming, and tears sprang to my eyes. I stilled, hoping the pain of my bruised flesh would abide. When it had subsided, I turned my face back to his.
“Cara.”
I hated the endearment. He used the term like a weapon, and there was nothing soft or sweet about it.
“I’m sorry you made me do that, but you had to understand how to behave. Perhaps now, you’ll be more accommodating and watch your manners.”
I wanted to lash out at him. Yell at him for being a crazy SOB. I wanted to tear his eyes out. But instead, I just nodded.
“Do you have nothing to say to me?”
I heard the edge in his voice and knew it was time to play nice again.
“I’m sorry for embarrassing you. It won’t happen again.”
His face lifted in a smile, and he bent down and pressed a kiss to my lips. “That’s better. Now, I’ll be replacing Cruz with another guard soon. So, hopefully he’ll no longer be a distraction for you.”
A new fear took hold—a fear not for myself, but for Cruz.
“Oh, really?”
Chavez watched my face, and I knew he was looking for some reaction from me. I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Yes. I don’t think he’s a good fit.”
I nodded, unable to say anything. There was nothing I could say to save Cruz at this point. I’d just have to warn him.
My eyes were heavy, and I wondered what kind of pain relievers Pilar had been giving me. My head spun, and I felt more than just tired. I felt drunk, high, definitely under the influence of something stronger than ibuprofen.
“You get some sleep now, cara. I’ll be back to check on you.” He kissed my forehead and left the room. I tried to stay awake, hoping to catch Pilar when she returned, but I went in and out of awareness, visions blurring each time I came to. The room spinning when I tried to lift my head.
It was evening before I was able to stay coherent, the sun sitting low in the sky through the windows as the first stars popped out in the atmosphere. Pilar opened the door to my room and walked in with a tray.
“You haven’t eaten all day, carita. You must eat.”
“What did you give me? I haven’t been able to stay awake.”
Pilar looked guiltily at her feet. “He insisted.”
By he, I knew she meant Chavez. So he had drugged me. Then in a low whisper, she said, “I only gave you half last time. I flushed the other half down the toilet. You need food.”
She reached the bed and helped me turn over so I could sit up and eat. The skin on my back pulled where the flesh had ripped open, and the pain from the bruising took my breath away, but I was able finally to sit up to eat.
Pilar placed a tray boasting chicken soup and warm, homemade bread with a chocolate-hazelnut croissant across my legs. “Eat up. I’ll be back shortly to dress your wounds and give you more medicine.”
I nodded, knowing that arguing with her wasn’t going to work. Plus, I didn’t want Pilar to get in trouble. I’d take the pill and pretend to swallow it, but I wasn’t about to be drugged for another twenty-four hours.
I made quick work of the food, so hungry and thirsty I didn’t think I’d ever felt that way before in my life. I thought about what Lorenzo had been through all those weeks he’d been imprisoned—very little food or water, beaten unconscious, unrecognizable when they’d found him. If he could get through that and live, then I could certainly get through this.
When I’d finished, I set the tray on the other side of the bed and waited for Pilar to return. I hated to put her in the middle of things, but I had to get a message to Cruz about what Chavez was planning. I just hoped I wasn’t too late.
As if conjured by my thoughts, the door opened, and Cruz stepped inside. My heart skipped a beat as I took in his perfect handsome face and dark piercing eyes. Eyes that were dark underneath from the lack of sleep and worry. For me, I assumed.
“Cruz.” The word came out like a prayer on my lips, relief flooding through me to see him unharmed and in one piece.
“How are you doing?” He walked slowly across the floor, and I itched to touch him. To have him hold me and tell me everything would be all right. Which was ridiculous. We didn’t have that kind of relationship—not like I’d had with Lorenzo. It was hard to reconcile the man I’d loved with the one standing there, and yet, I knew he was still in there. I’d seen it in his eyes when he looked at me.
“I’m okay.”
“I heard it all, Lydia.” His face was tortured, pain evident in his eyes. “Santiago made me stand right outside where they held you in the basement. I heard everything.”
I hung my head in shame. Then he’d heard how I’d screamed and begged him to stop.
Cruz sat on the bed, taking my hand in his. “I wanted to come get you, but Santiago warned me that they’d kill you if I interrupted. There was nothing I could do.”
“I know.” I kept my face down, not wanting to meet his gaze. The shame of it all too much to confront.
“Why won’t you look at me? Do you hate me so much?”
That got my attention. I jerked my gaze to his, seeing that he was wearing a shame all of his own. “Of course I don’t hate you. Why would I?”
“Because I couldn’t get to you.”
“It would have been stupid for you to try, Cruz.”
“I’m going to get us out of here.”
“How?”
“Do you trust me?”
Did I? I didn’t know. Lorenzo Gallos, I trusted. I knew him. Knew his history. Knew how he’d made something of his life and fought for our country. But Cruz Ortiz? I didn’t know him. I didn’t understand his motivations. Was he a good guy? Or was he in this with Chavez up to his eyeballs? Was the backstory he’d presented at dinner real? Or was it a cover?
I settled on the truth.
“I want to.”
“Then do it. Trust me. I will make this right.”
His hand cupped my face and lifted it to meet his gaze. The look in his eyes was so sincere, so compelling. I nodded in agreement. Then I remembered what Chavez had said that morning.
“Wait! You have to leave now. Chavez said he was replacing you. I think that means he plans to kill you.”
Cruz shrugged, unconcerned. “I’m hard to kill.” Then he winked. He winked! Arrogant man. What was he doing?
“You of all people should understand that.” He was acknowledging that he was really Lorenzo Gallos. Relief rushed through me, and I hadn’t realized that I was still waiting on confirmation from him.
My hands lifted to his face of their own accord, and I traced the lines of his too-perfect jaw.
“How?” Tears filled my eyes and rolled down my cheeks as I took in every familiar detail of his face.
“That’s a story for another day. For now, just know, I have a plan.”
“Okay.”
And that was it. I trusted him. If he said he’d get us out of there, then I was going to trust him to do it.
Cruz covered my hand on his face with his own and turned to place a kiss on the center of my palm. Tingles raced down my arm and straight to my belly. My gaze traveled to his lips, as longing took over. I needed his touch. I needed his kiss.
I leaned forward, gently pressing my lips to his, and then pulled back when he didn’t react. It was almost as if he were a statue, until I found the fire burning in his gaze. I could see the indecision warring in his face and waited for him to make a decision.
I didn’t have to wait long.
Cruz’s mouth landed on mine with no hesitation or restraint. His lips moved over mine, prying them open with a gentle trace of his tongue along the seam, begging me to open to him. So I did the only thing I could do—I yielded, allowing him entrance, tasting the essence of him that I remembered from so long ago.
Nothing had changed, and yet everything had. It was familiar and new all at the same time. My hands gripped his shoulders, the muscles bunching and jumping under my touch. His hand traced a long, leisurely path down my side, spreading fire along my skin with his touch.
The salt of my tears mingled with our kiss, lending a sadness to the union that spoke of years separated. Death. Resurrection. It was all there in that moment, hovering above us, waiting for us to take notice.
The door to the room flew open, slamming against the wall. I jumped away from Cruz, feeling the pull of the fresh wounds on my back. Cruz jumped up and took a step back, his hands raised in defense.
“Chavez, I was just—”
“Seducing my fiancée, and in her fragile state no less. I knew you were a predator. One I plan to deal with now. Take him.”
Juan Carlos and Santiago stepped forward, grabbing Cruz’s arms, but he shook them off, landing a blow to Juan Carlos’s face and a kick to Santiago’s abdomen. The three men faced off, circling each other, my eyes glued to Cruz’s every movement.
Then the cold press of a barrel against my temple sent fear racing down my spine. Chavez stood next to me, his gun held tightly against my head.
“Your choice, Cruz.” He clicked the safety off, and I tried to hold as still as possible, scared any movement would cause the gun to go off and end my life prematurely.
Cruz stopped fighting and lifted his hands. Santiago and Juan Carlos grabbed him, but not before each returning the punches he’d thrown at them earlier. Juan Carlos slugged him in the gut, and Cruz crumpled forward, while Santiago threw a punch to his kidneys, and Cruz flew backwards in pain. When his knees hit the floor, the two picked him up and dragged him out of the room.
Chavez removed the gun from my head and walked to the door. He turned back and glared at me. “I’ll deal with you later. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll stay put, or I swear I’ll put a bullet in your head.”
The door closed, and I struggled to my feet. The pain was so intense I almost lost my balance, but fear for Cruz and for myself drove me forward. I reached the door and tried the handle.
Locked.
How was I going to get us out of here? I gingerly made my way to my bathroom, pulling on a tight tank top that wouldn’t move across my back and agitate my injuries. A bra was out of the question, and so were jeans as the lashes had reached the top of my butt. I pulled on soft yoga pants that folded at the waist and rolled them down to where they barely rested on my hips. Bending was nearly impossible, so I opted for flip-flops even though running in them would be difficult. Fortunately, I still had my athletic flip-flops that stayed on my feet fairly well. It would have to do.
Once I was dressed, I looked around the room for something to unlock the door. I noticed the tray sitting on the bed. Pilar would be back to get it. I just needed to wait until she returned and somehow make it look as if she had nothing to do with my escape.
It was half an hour before she returned, and when she opened the door, she took one look at my outfit and knew what I had planned. She nodded, tears filling her eyes, and rushed forward to embrace me. Not a word was spoken between us. She stepped back as if getting a good look at me, then backed out into the hallway, leaving the door slightly ajar.
I waited several moments and peered outside. No one was standing guard at the room. The hall was empty.
My mind flitted back to the cell phone Cruz had outside a couple of nights before. It had been different from the one he used during the day. Did he keep it on him? Or was it in his room?
If he was working for someone else—and my gut said he was—he wouldn’t keep it on him. It would be hidden somewhere in his room.
And if Lorenzo Gallos was still a creature of habit, I knew just where it would be.