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When she'd first seen Carlos in the doorway, Kelsey had only stared. The bright light behind him had cast him in silhouette, but the voice, the presence, were unmistakable.
She'd frozen, and not from the biting cold or the falling snow. More than nine years had passed since she'd seen Carlos. She'd let herself believe she would never see him again.
What a fool.
"Come, mi dulce." He'd beckoned her forward with his old nickname for her. "We have much to discuss."
Mateo climbed off the snowmobile and offered his hand. His voice was soft. "Don't make it harder than it has to be."
She took his hand, squeezed, and whispered, "Help me."
He responded just as quietly. "I tried to do that, but you ignored my warning."
She slid off the snowmobile, and Mateo led her gently to the man in the door. They climbed the steps and stopped one level below Carlos. He towered over them. When he stepped back into the house and the light hit him, his features became clear.
Creases had set in around his eyes. His dark brown hair hung almost to his shoulders. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in days. That didn't surprise her. When he was worried, he didn't bother with little things like shaving and eating. She'd always known when to fear him, most when his beard grew with his hunger. Because when Carlos worried, he hid it behind anger. And anger often came with pain.
A smile on his lips, but she didn't miss the worry hovering in his eyes. "You are just as beautiful as I remember." He held out his hand.
Mateo squeezed hers, and for a moment, it was almost as if she had a friend beside her. But Mateo had been and always would be Carlos's man.
Mateo let go of her, and her hand hung between them awkwardly.
She didn't want to reach for Carlos. Didn't want to willingly walk to him. But Eric... She had to do what she could for him. Maybe Carlos would let her see him one last time.
She took Carlos's hand, swallowed a sob, and stepped into the house.
He led her down a short set of stairs. "We will have privacy down here. My men are busy upstairs, preparing for us to leave."
She said nothing as they reached the bottom, turned, and walked through a door.
It was the room from TakeTwo's videos.
Eric wasn't there.
Her heart sank. She'd had such hope.
Carlos led her to the bed. "Please, have a seat."
She did, and he stood in front of her. His grin was still wide. "Make yourself comfortable. I need to speak with Mateo."
He stepped into the hallway, leaving her alone.
She strained to hear their words, but they were too quiet.
She looked at the windows, considered running. But she had to know where Eric was first. And besides, she probably wouldn't make it to the window before Carlos grabbed her.
The rest of the room was concrete and metal. Camera equipment was pushed against the far wall. Splinters of wood littered the floor. And...was that blood? Had Carlos lost his temper, smashed a chair? Had Eric been the recipient of that anger?
She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed. If there was a God, they desperately needed him now.
A distant gunshot exploded in the silence.
She jumped, scrambled back on the bed to the wall behind it. Stood, looked out the window.
Saw nothing but ground and trees.
Eric. Where was Eric?
Another gunshot.
Silence in the hallway. Should she try to escape?
Footsteps on the stairs, then Mateo burst outside. He froze in the driveway, scanned the forest.
Then he pulled out his phone.
A moment later, he returned to the house. The screen door slammed.
She slid the window open. They were distracted. Now was the time.
Mateo's voice rose outside the door. She couldn't make out the words as she hefted herself up.
"Excellent." Carlos's response boomed in the quiet.
With her knee on the windowsill, she reached forward, grabbed a bush outside the window. The leaves shifted and dropped snow on her.
Carlos continued. "You will take care of it, and then we'll go."
She heard the door open behind her. Tried to scramble out.
A hand gripped her foot and yanked. She fell onto the bed on her face.
He yanked until she was on the edge of the bed. He released her foot, and she twisted around to face him. Lifted her hands to defend herself.
Carlos crossed his arms.
What? No punishment? No backhand? No punch?
"If you try to escape again," he said, "I will not be as kind. But I understand this is not how you expected your evening to go."
Cold air blew in from the open window behind her.
Carlos's smile was just as cold. If anything, it was wider than it had been before. The worry was gone. "It was probably my fault you tried to escape. Rude of me to keep you waiting, mi dolce."
"I am not your sweet. Where is my husband?"
"Always with the temper. I see you haven't changed."
"Nor have you."
"I suppose not. You asked about Eric, no? Your husband claimed he didn't know where our child was. I decided to believe him."
Her stomach retched. She thought of the gunshot she'd just heard.
Her body knew what her mind wouldn't face. Couldn't face.
Carlos nodded toward the windows. "Mateo's gone to dispose of him. I doubt anyone will ever find his body."
No.
The nausea rose. She swallowed it back.
"You're turning green." Carlos grabbed a small trash can from the far side of the room. "Please, I'd prefer you didn't make a mess. We already have much to clean."
She took the can, vomited into it. Wiped her mouth with Mateo's jacket.
"Are you ill?" he asked. "You always threw up easily. Of course, you were..."
His voice trailed off. She looked up to see his eyes had narrowed.
"If you are pregnant now, I will kill you."
Pregnant? He was insane. But oh, how she wished she were carrying Eric's child, to have a piece of him with her to the end.
"Are you pregnant?" Carlos demanded.
She couldn't speak. Because Eric couldn't be dead. All she'd wanted was to see him one last time.
She should have run. In the woods, she should have at least tried. Just now, she shouldn't have wasted time. She should have gone out the back window while Mateo was out front.
Maybe they'd have hurt her. Maybe they'd have shot her. But at least she'd have tried. Eric was gone anyway. She'd never get Daniel back now.
What did she have to live for?
Carlos gripped her arm and squeezed. "Are you pregnant?"
"No." She looked at his hand, which was white-knuckled against the thick parka and squeezing into her flesh.
He removed it, stepped back, lifted his eyebrows. "If you're lying, I'll know soon enough."
She focused on the concrete floor beneath her feet. If only she could melt into it, disappear. She'd do anything, anything, to not be here.
Carlos took the soiled trash can to the far side of the room. When he returned, he stood in front of her. "Are you sick?"
"You just told me my husband is dead. I guess my stomach didn't like the news."
He seemed to accept that. Didn't seem to care. "Where is my child?"
She smiled, though she doubted it looked any more natural than it felt. "I have no idea. I gave her up for adoption."
His eyebrows lifted. "But I know that's not true. You were spotted, you see. A few years ago in Shreveport. My contact photographed you with a child. It was hard to tell, but it looked very much like a boy."
He'd seen her there? Thank God she'd moved on before Carlos had caught up with her. "In Shreveport?" She forced a laugh. "I was working as a nanny. The kid he saw belonged to a couple of doctors who'd hired me to take care of him."
Carlos shook his head. "You were always quick with the lies."
"Why would I keep your kid, Carlos? Did you think I could ever love a child of yours? My luck, she'd grow up to be a tyrant, just like her father."
"A tyrant?" His temper flashed in his eyes, and his hand rose.
She winced, shrunk away from the blow she knew would come.
Carlos relaxed his fist and lowered his arm. "Ah, mi dulce, after all this time, must we fight?" He sat beside her on the bed. "I don't want to hurt you. I long for him, you know? I long for my son like I've never longed for anyone. I need to see my son."
"It was a girl."
He launched himself up, turned, and shouted. "I do not believe a word you say. It was boy. It is a boy."
"It is not an 'it.'" She glared at him. "We're talking about a human being. Not property. Unfortunately, you don't know how to treat people as anything but property. And you will never get your hands on my child."
"Your child?" He crouched down, put his hands on either side of her face, pressed. "Our child."
If he knew the truth, he'd kill her.
She should tell him.
Tears burned her eyes, but what right did she have to cry? She'd caused all of this. She'd led these evil people to this town, to her husband. She'd led her husband to his death.
He released her face. "Mi dulce, I've longed for you as well." His gaze softened, roved over her face, her body.
She leaned away from him. His anger, she was prepared for. But that look... She remembered that look. She wouldn't land in his bed, not again. She'd die first.
"All these years," he said, "all these years, and I still dream about you. I roll over in bed expecting to find you, always to find someone else. A warm body, sí. A beautiful body. But not yours." He kneeled in front of her. "I want you back. I want things to be the way they were before."
"You murdered my sister."
He waved his hand as if he were flicking away a fly. "That was a mistake. You will forgive me."
A command, not a request. The man was insane.
"You murdered my husband."
Now he glared. "You belong to me. You gave birth to my child. You spent months in my bed. That man had no claim on you."
"I love Eric. I will always love Eric."
"He is dead. You will love me."
"You can't command my heart like you would one of your thugs."
Carlos took her hands, squeezed them between his. "Mi dulce, I forgive you for your betrayal. I survived, and my operation continues. You will not do it again. For years, I wanted nothing more than to make you pay for what you'd done. But now I realize... I want things to be as they were. I was never happier, I never felt more complete, than when you were by my side."
A gunshot split the silence.