by Pam Godwin
“You fight with this crazy, fathomless inner strength. I’ve never worried about losing you to depression or insanity or…” He squeezed her hand. “A broken heart. It seems you’ve figured out how to survive the emotional shit better than the rest of us. I envy that.”
“Thank you.” Her throat tightened.
“You’re not going back to Texas, are you?”
She hadn’t thought about it, but her answer was certain. “No.”
“None of us are returning.”
“You’re all staying here?”
“I don’t know what Tate and Lucia will do, but the guys and I need to be here, with Camila.”
It made sense. Camila was their leader in a dangerous fight against human sex trafficking. Most of their missions sent them to South America. There was no reason for them to continue to live in Texas.
“We should sell the house.” She gave him a sad smile.
“Agreed.” He cocked his head. “This isn’t a break-up, Kate.”
“No.” Her smile turned upward, stretching her cheeks. “It’s a merger. The Freedom Fighters and the Restrepo cartel. An unstoppable force to be reckoned with.”
“Ricky and I are leaving next week. I don’t know when we’ll return.”
“What’s the mission?”
“Camila’s planting us in a Mexican prison to gather information on the leader of the inmates. He happens to be the capo of La Rocha cartel. A nasty piece of work. His incarceration hasn’t stopped him from running one of the biggest slave trade operations south of the border.” His gaze lost focus beneath a cloud of barely restrained fury. “He’s trafficking kids, Kate. We have to end that motherfucker.”
“You’re going into a Mexican prison? Undercover? As inmates?” Her pulse sprinted. “What the fuck, Martin? You can’t—”
“Ricky and I have been training for this for months. We know what we’re doing.”
She closed her eyes, released a breath, and met his gaze. “Please, be careful.”
“Same to you, when you capture your captor.” He winked.
They talked for a little while longer before she walked him out. Then she took a shower, put on pajamas she’d borrowed from Camila, and slipped her arms into the sleeves of Tiago’s dinner jacket.
Maybe sleeping in it every night had taken her desperation too far, but she missed him terribly. It had only been four days, and the pain had become more than she could bear.
To think, he’d been such a dick to her. He’d hurt her, brought her to tears, made her vulnerable, and took away all her defenses.
He’d also kept every promise, showed genuine regret, protected her, and loved her unconditionally. Through his cruelty and his tenderness, she realized she could trust him at the deepest level. And those defenses and freedoms he’d taken from her? She didn’t need any of it. Not with him.
She just needed his love.
As she crawled into bed, his absence hit her in a torrent of tears. She pulled the tuxedo coat around her, breathed him in, and silently wept.
“Where are you, Tiago?”
A knock sounded on the door.
After living with five roommates, she’d grown used to late-night visitors in her room. Someone always needed something, even if it was just conversation.
Since Martin had just left, she suspected Ricky would be waiting on the other side. But when she opened the door, Lucia’s brown gaze collided with hers.
“Hi.” Kate wiped her cheeks, certain all the crying had made her eyes red and swollen.
“Hey, um… I know we don’t know each other, but I thought since we have a mutual…acquaintance…”
“You mean Tiago?”
“Yeah.”
“He’s more than an acquaintance to me.”
“Poor choice of words. Look, I just…” Lucia rested her hands on her hips and stared at the floor. “I can’t sleep. Tate hogs all your time, and I just really wanted to talk to you alone.”
“You want me to tell you about Tiago.”
“Yes.” Her expression softened, her gaze pleading. “I spent eleven years with him, and I… Shit, I know it’s late, so if you want to talk another time—”
“I can’t sleep, either.” She opened the door wider and motioned for Lucia to enter.
“Is that his?” Lucia nodded at the dinner jacket that engulfed her shoulders.
“Yeah.” She ran a hand along the black sleeve.
“I never saw him wear a tux, but I can picture it.” Lucia perched on the loveseat. “He’s very easy on the eyes.”
“He looked devastating that night, especially when he danced with me.” Her chin trembled.
“Tiago danced with you?”
“Yeah.” She took a seat in the armchair. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
She started at the beginning and walked through every interaction, every fight, every tender moment, the good and ugly, the brutality and rape, the kindness and beautiful acts of devotion.
By the time she finished, she hadn’t left out a single detail from the past four months. Tears streaked her cheeks. A smile rested on her mouth, and she felt wonderfully copacetic.
“Damn.” Lucia slumped into the loveseat with her jaw hanging open. “I can’t even comprehend him being like that. He wasn’t like that with me. I mean, the cruelty? Of course. The threats and the control? He ruled my damn life. But I never saw that devoted side of him. No one did. And what the hell? He was married?”
“Yeah, that took me by surprise, too.”
“I’m really fucking in awe of you. That man scares the shit out of me. I spent eleven years in fear of my life. But you? You walk in, and within four months, he’s kneeling at your feet. You changed him.”
“He hasn’t changed, and he certainly doesn’t fucking kneel. Believe me, he’s just as vicious as ever. Don’t forget about the scars on my body, the golden showers, the handcuffs in the jungle. If it hadn’t been for those bombs, I would still be his captive.”
“True. But he gave up Caracas and the protection it gave him.”
“I don’t know why. I didn’t do anything to make him—”
“He loves you. That’s huge, Kate. It’s everything.”
“Somewhere along the way, I fell in love with him, too. I guess that’s why this hurts so badly. Not knowing where he is or if he’s okay… I can’t even let myself consider the possibility he was injured in that explosion. Or worse…”
“What are you going to do?”
She had over six-hundred-thousand dollars sitting in her bank account. The money Van had distributed among his ex-slaves.
It would take her some time to put all the clues together and pinpoint the location of Boones’ village. She would need travel documents, a passport, and maybe a hired security guard. But once she had all that in place…
“I’m going to buy a plane ticket to Africa.”
CHAPTER 33
“Reconsider this trip, Kate.” Liv Reed stood at the center of Kate’s room, arms at her sides and shoulders back. A pillar of grace and dominance.
“No.” Wrapped in Tiago’s worn tuxedo coat, Kate sat in the corner of the loveseat, buzzing with nervous energy. “You would do the same thing if you lost Josh.”
It had been one month since she left Tiago on that burning island.
One long fucking month.
Cole Hartman had finally acquired the names of the casualties from that night.
Both Tiago and Arturo were on the list.
They’d been counted among the dead.
Deceased.
Gone.
When Cole gave her the devastating news, she could’ve let it destroy her. But she wasn’t ready to curl up and die. She couldn’t give up.
So she decided that Tiago had taken a page from Cole’s book and faked his own death. There was no evidence to support her claim. Nothing to go on but hope.
Hope was all she had.
She spent the past month hunting for Boones�
� village.
His scarification, the jewelry and clothing from the photo of his daughter, the sounds of his native tongue, and a thousand other tiny little details led her to Northeast Africa.
She contacted a linguistic specialist at a university in Texas. Weeks of correspondence with the professor helped her narrow down Boones’ vernacular to Tigre, an Afroasiatic language spoken in Sudan, Ethiopia, and Eritrea.
The three countries sat together along the Red Sea. She was getting closer, but not close enough.
The language had a lot of dialects, and those unique nuances helped her determine that Boones used the patois of the Tigre people in Eritrea.
That was the break she needed.
He was Eritrean, and they referred to their language as Tigrayit.
She had the country of Boones’ home, but nothing more specific. After another week of digging, she hadn’t been able to pinpoint a town or village.
Impatience dug in its claws.
Throughout her search, she tried so hard to control the emotions that swarmed inside her. It had been one month. At this point, she didn’t think she could survive another day without him.
But she would. She would survive as long as it took.
Her flight departed in four days. Luggage lined the far wall of her room, packed with the essentials for her trip to Eritrea.
She’d worked with Matias’ staff to purchase everything she needed—clothes, travel documents, fake passport, and ID. She funded every cost and set every demand, all while keeping her destination as secret as possible.
Those involved knew she was going to Africa. Nothing more. Tiago hadn’t shared the location for a reason, and she wouldn’t, either.
Liv crossed the room and stood near the window, watching her teenage daughter through the glass.
Livana sat on the veranda of Kate’s suite, with her nose in a book. She’d grown into a beautiful girl and seemed to be thriving in Colombia. Matias provided her with private tutors and an education far superior than what she received in the States.
“Have you decided to stay here for good?” Kate asked.
“We’re working out the details. Van and Amber want to stay and join Camila’s fight. Josh and I are willing to do the same, but the shared custody with Livana’s adoptive mother complicates a permanent move.”
“You could always fight for full custody.”
“Yes, but that would be selfish. Livana was raised by her and—”
An urgent, rapid knock pounded on the door.
“Kate.” Van barged in without waiting, and his silver eyes cut through the room until they landed on her. “He’s here.”
“Who?” She leapt from the loveseat, staggering to right herself as her heart pounded out of her chest. “Who’s here?”
But she knew.
She knew before Van said his name.
“Tiago Badell.”
A gust of dizziness hit her sideways.
He was here. What did it mean? Was he hurting? Angry? Completely insane?
Her blood pressure skyrocketed as she sucked in breath after breath. She was going to hyperventilate. Or pass out.
She needed to go, run, get to him right now.
“Where?” She sprinted to the door, her voice rising to an explosive shrill. “Which way?”
“The west wing.” He followed her into the hall and nodded to the right.
The hairs rose on her nape as she bolted in the direction he pointed her.
She hadn’t visited the west wing but knew enough about the horrors Matias imprisoned there. Slave traders, traitors, and rival cartel members—the captives were the worst of the worst and deserved every punishment they received within those walls. She heard that Frizz, one of the men in Matias’ inner circle, often sewed up their mouths to match his own.
If Tiago was there, did that mean he’d been captured? Were they torturing him?
Her stomach threatened to empty as she picked up her pace, racing through the halls with no idea which way to go.
The sound of sneakers gave chase, and a moment later, Van caught up with her.
“Turn left at the next bend.” He directed her through the halls, sprinting easily alongside her.
“How did Tiago get here?” She panted, her legs burning through the strides.
“The crazy motherfucker broke in.”
“What?” She faltered, recovered, and sped up her gait. “How did he find this place?”
“Fuck if I know. Another left here.” He raced her down a long corridor, his breathing so much calmer than hers. “He came in with guns blazing, ready to take down the whole goddamn cartel.”
Her chest tightened painfully, and her lungs wheezed for air. “Did he get hurt? Is anyone dead?”
“Don’t know.”
Her limbs trembled with terror and anticipation as she skidded to a stop at the entrance to the wing.
The guards let them pass, and she followed the sounds of shouting through two more corridors.
Up ahead, Lucia leaned her back against the wall with a hand clutching her throat. When she spotted Kate, her eyes widened. “Kate! Wait!”
“Where is he?” She ran to the steel door across from Lucia and peered through the small window.
In the concrete room, Tiago lay on his side on the floor, eyes closed, dressed in only a pair of briefs. He bared his teeth and jerked his arms, going nowhere with his hands shackled behind him.
Her heart splintered, and she grabbed the door handle, shaking it. Locked.
Tate paced through the cell, shouting furiously as he demanded answers about Lucia and everything that had happened over the past eleven years.
Blood trickled from cuts on Tiago’s face and chest, but there were no visible bullet or stab wounds.
Why was he bleeding and lying on the floor?
A rabid sound wrenched from her throat. She needed to get to him and hold him and let him know she was here.
“Open the door!” She shook the handle harder, more frantically, losing control when it wouldn’t budge.
His eyes opened and unerringly found hers through the glass.
“Tiago!” She pressed her hand against the window, and a sharp burn stabbed through her chest.
He’d lost weight, his muscles radically leaner, his jaw more angular and covered in a full beard. What happened to him?
Tate’s hands clenched at his sides, his face and neck bright red as he prowled a circle around Tiago’s body. He looked as if he were seconds from murder.
“Let me in right now!” She pounded on the tiny window. “Swear to God, if you hurt him—”
Matias appeared on the other side of the glass and narrowed his eyes.
“Open the door,” she screamed, banging her fists against the steel.
He slammed a metal cover over the window, blocking her view. Shutting her out.
She lost it.
In an explosion of rage, she threw her body against the door, yelling at the top of her lungs, kicking, and pounding until Van’s arms locked around her and yanked her away.
“They’re going to torture him.” Tears blurred her eyes, and great sobs shook her shoulders. “They’ll kill him.”
“Kate, listen to me.” Lucia gripped her face, capturing her attention. “Only reason Tiago’s alive is because of you. Matias and Tate know you love him. They’re not going to hurt him.”
“He’s bleeding.” She yanked on her arms, where Van held them at her back. “Let go of me.”
He released her and stepped to the side, studying her with those bladed eyes of his. “He’s bleeding because he broke into the secret headquarters of a Colombian cartel and attacked the guards.”
“Did anyone die?” she asked Lucia.
“No. But they had to subdue him by physical force.”
She wiped away her tears and pulled in a steeling breath. A little calmer now, she stepped back to the door and pressed her ear against it.
“Why won’t they let me in?” She couldn’t detect soun
d through the thick steel. “What are they doing to him?”
“Just talking.” Lucia stared at the door, her expression tight. “Tate needs a resolution.”
Tiago had tortured him, forced him to have sex with Van, and separated him from Lucia for three months. Kate wasn’t sure there was a resolution for that.
“Why aren’t you in there with him?” She flexed her hands, unable to quell the shaking.
“I’ve made peace with what he did to me.” Lucia leaned her back against the wall and gazed at the door. “Hearing about your relationship with him helped. It gave me a sense of understanding, like maybe everything happened for a reason. I mean, I got Tate out of it.”
“What about you?” She turned to Van. “I know what he did to you.”
“Hm.” He removed a toothpick from his pocket and rested the end between his lips. “I’m the last person to throw stones. I don’t like the guy, but I’ll get over it. Forgive, forget, move on—any of that is better than holding on to hatred.”
He gave her a knowing look, and for the first time since she’d met him, she stared directly into his razor eyes and didn’t wince.
She didn’t know whether she forgave Van or had simply moved on, but she no longer felt fear or hatred for the man.
“Tate’s not in there for himself.” Van rolled the toothpick to the corner of his mouth. “He’s in there for his girl. He needs to flex his strength, make some threats, and prove to Tiago he’s willing to do anything to protect her.”
“Men,” Lucia mumbled.
Kate shifted back to the door, aching to be on the other side. “Is there a first-aid kit around here?”
“I think so. Hang on.” Lucia strode down the hall and returned a few minutes later with a bag of supplies, water bottles, and clean towels.
“Thank you.” Kate gathered it in her arms and waited.
Another five minutes passed before the door swung open.
Tate stepped out, and his bloodshot eyes darted to Lucia. As Kate tried to squeeze past him, he caught her around the waist and enveloped her in a hug.
“Get him out of here before I start hating him again.” He kissed the top of her head and let her go.
That sounded promising. Kind of.
Matias exited next, his expression brooding as he pressed a keyring into her hand. “He doesn’t leave this cell.”