by Nicole Helm
“You’ll see.”
Gabby wanted to cry, which had been an impulse she’d beaten out of herself years ago, but it was bubbling up inside her along with the new fear. It wasn’t fair. She was so tired of her life not being fair.
When the man reached out for her, she went with those instincts from the very first time she’d been brought there.
She fought him with everything she had.
* * *
JAIME ALESSANDRO HADN’T worked his way up “The Stallion’s” operation by being a particularly nice guy. Undercover work, especially this long and this deep, had required him to bend a lot of the moral codes he’d started police work with.
But thus far, he’d never had to beat up or restrain a woman. This woman was surprisingly agile and strong, and she was coming at him with everything she had.
He was very concerned he was going to have to hurt her just to get her to stop. He could stand a few scratches, but he doubted The Stallion was going to trust him with the next big job if he let this woman give him a black eye—no matter how strong and “feisty” she was.
God, how he hated that word.
“Ma’am.” He tried for his forceful FBI agent voice as he managed to hold one of her arms still. He didn’t want to hurt the poor woman who’d been here eight years—a fact he only knew because she’d just told him.
He shouldn’t have been surprised at this point. He’d learned very quickly in his undercover work that what the FBI had on Victor Callihan, a.k.a. The Stallion, was only the tip of the iceberg.
If he thought about it too much, the things The Stallion had done, the things Jaime had done to get here... Well, he didn’t, because he’d had to learn how to turn that voice of right and wrong off and focus only on the task at hand.
Bringing down The Stallion.
That meant if she didn’t stop flailing at him and landing some decent blows, he was going to have to restrain her any way he could, even if it caused her some pain.
Though he had her arm clamped in a tight grip, she still thrashed and kicked at him, very nearly landing a blow that would have brought him to his knees. He swore and, though he very much didn’t want to, gave her a little jerk that gave him the leverage he needed to grab her from behind with both arms.
She still bucked and kicked, but with his height advantage and a full grip on her upper body, he could maneuver her this way and that to keep her from landing any nasty hits.
“I’m not going to hurt you. I’m going to help you, I promise.”
She spat, probably aiming for him but missing completely since he had her from behind. It was only then he realized he’d spoken in Spanish instead of English.
He’d grown up speaking both, but his work for The Stallion and the identity he’d assumed required mostly speaking Spanish and pretending he struggled with English.
It was slipups like that—not realizing what language he was speaking, not quite remembering who he was—that always sent a cold bolt of fear through him.
He needed this to be over. He needed to get out. Before he lost himself completely. He could only hope that Gabriella Torres would be the last piece of the puzzle in getting to the heart of The Stallion’s operation.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” Jaime said in a low, authoritative tone. Certain, self-assured, even though he didn’t feel much of either at this particular moment.
“Then let go of me,” she returned, still bucking, throwing her head back and narrowly missing head-butting him pretty effectively.
He tried not to think about what might have happened to her in the course of being hidden way too long from the world. It was a constant fight between the human side of him and the role he had to play. He wouldn’t lose his humanity, though. He refused. He might have to bend his moral code from time to time, but he wouldn’t lose the part of him that would feel sympathy. If he lost that, he’d never be able to go back.
Jaime noted that though Gabriella still fought his tight hold, she was tiring.
“Be still and I’ll let you go,” he said quietly, hoping that maybe his outer calm would rub off on her.
She tried to land a heel to his shin but when that failed she slumped in his arms. “Fine.”
Carefully and slowly, paying attention to the way she held herself and the pliancy of her body, Jaime released her from his grip. Since she didn’t renew her fight, he took a few steps away so she could see he had no intention of hurting her.
When she turned and looked at him warily, he held his hands up. Her breathing was labored and there were droplets of sweat gathered at her temples. She had a pretty face despite the pallor beneath her tan complexion. She had a mass of dark curls pulled back and away from her face, and he had to wonder how old she was.
She looked both too young and too world-weary all at the same time, but he couldn’t let that twist his insides. He’d seen way worse at this point, hadn’t he? “I’m not going to harm you, Gabriella. In fact, I want to help you.”
She laughed, something bitter and scathing that scraped against what little conscience he had left.
“Sure you do, buddy. And this is the Taj Mahal.”
Yeah, she’d be perfect for what he needed. Now he just had to figure out how to use her without blowing everything he’d worked for.
Chapter Two
Gabby was wrung out. Physically. Emotionally. It had been a long time since she’d had something to react so violently against. Her breathing was uneven and her insides felt scraped raw.
She wanted to cry and it had been so long since she’d allowed herself that emotional release.
She couldn’t allow it now. Not with the way this man studied her, intently and far too interested. She had become certain of her power in this odd world she’d been thrust into against her will, but she didn’t believe in that power in the face of this man.
She closed her eyes against the wave of despair and the need to give up on this whole surviving thing.
“Gabriella. I know you have no reason to trust me, but I’m going to say it even if you don’t believe it. I will not hurt you.”
The worst part was that she was so exhausted she wanted to believe him. No one had promised her safety in the past eight years, but just because no one had didn’t mean she could believe this one.
“I guess it’s my lucky day,” she returned, trying to roll her eyes but exhaustion limited the movement.
“I know. I know. I do. Don’t trust me. Don’t believe. I just need you to go along with some things.”
“What kind of things? And, more important, why?” She shook her head. Questions were pointless. The man was going to lie to her anyway. “Never mind. It doesn’t matter. Do whatever you’re going to do.”
“You fought me.”
“So?”
He stepped forward and she stumbled away. He shook his head, holding his hands up again, as if surrendering. “I’m sorry. I won’t. I’m not going to touch you.” He kept his hands raised as he spoke. Low, with a note to his voice she couldn’t recognize.
Panic? No, he wasn’t panicked in the least. But there was something in that tone that made her feel like time was running out. For what, she had no idea. But there was a drive to this man, a determination.
He had a goal of some kind and it wasn’t like The Stallion’s goals. The Stallion had a kind of meticulous nature, and he never seemed rushed or driven. Just a cold, careful, step-by-step map in his head to whatever endgame he had. Or maybe no endgame at all. Just...living his weird life.
But this man in her room had a vitality to him, an energy. He was trying to do something and Gabby hated the way she responded to that. Oh, she missed having a goal, having some fight in her. The weary acceptance of the past two years had given her less and less to live for. Helping the other girls was the only thing that
kept her getting up every morning.
“What do you want from me?”
“Just some cooperation. Some information. To go along with whatever I say, especially if The Stallion is around.”
“Are you trying to usurp him or something?”
He released a breath that was almost a laugh. “N—” He seemed to think better of saying no. “Who knows? Right now, I need information.”
“Why should I give you anything?”
He seemed to think about the question but in the end ignored it and asked one of his own. “Is it true...?” He trailed off, giving her a brief once-over. “They haven’t touched you while you’ve been here?”
She stared hard at the man. “One time a guard tried to touch my chest and I knocked his tooth out.”
The man’s full mouth curved a little at that, something so close to humor in his expression it hurt. Humor. She missed...laughing. For no reason. Smiling, just because it was a nice day with a blue sky.
But she couldn’t think about all the things she missed or her heart would stop beating.
“What happened to the guard?”
Gabby shrugged, hugging herself against all this feeling. Thoughts about laughter, about the sky, about using her mind to put the pieces of the puzzle together again.
You gave that up. You’ve accepted your fate.
But had she, really, when the fight came so easily and quickly?
“I don’t know. I never saw him again.”
“Was it only the one time?”
Gabby considered how much information she wanted to give a stranger who might be just as evil as the man who held her captive. She could help him boot The Stallion out...and then get nothing for her trouble. She wasn’t sure if she preferred to take the risk. The devil you knew and all that.
But there was something about this man... He didn’t fit. Nothing about his demeanor or mannerisms or his questions fit the past eight years of her experience. What exactly would be the harm in telling him what she knew? What would The Stallion do? He’d been the one to leave her with this man.
“As far as I know, they can knock us around as long as they don’t break anything or touch our faces. If they go overboard, or get sexual, they disappear.”
The man raised an eyebrow. “How many have disappeared?”
Gabby shrugged, still holding herself. “It was more in the beginning. Five the first year. Three the second. Only one in the third. Then five again the fourth. Two the fifth, then none since.”
Both his eyebrows raised at this point, his eyes widening in surprise. “You remember it that specifically?”
Part of her wanted to brag about all the things she remembered. All the specifics she had locked away in her brain. All the patterns she’d put together. None of the girls had ever appreciated them. She had a feeling this man would.
But it would be showing her hand a little too easily for comfort. “Not a lot to think about in this place. I remember some things.”
“Tell me,” he said, taking another one of those steps toward her that made her want to cower or run away to whatever corner she could find. But she stood her ground and she shook her head.
If she told him, it would be in her own time, when she thought telling might work in her favor in some way.
He stood there, opposite her, studying her face as though he could figure out how to get her to talk if he simply looked hard enough.
So she looked right back, trying to determine something about him.
He had a sharp nose and angular cheekbones, a strong jaw covered liberally with short, black whiskers. His eyes looked much less black close up, a variety of browns melding to the black pupil at the center.
He had broad shoulders and narrow hips and even the array of weapons strapped to him didn’t detract from the sexy way he was built. Sexy. Such an odd thing. She hadn’t thought about sex or attractiveness or much of anything in that vein for eight long years.
She didn’t know if she was glad she could still see it and recognize it or if it just made everything more complicated. Far more lonely.
The eerie click of a lock interrupted the moment and he looked back at the door, then at her. His expression was grave.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he whispered. “But this may scare you a little bit. That’s okay. Fight back.”
“Fight ba—”
He reached out and grabbed her by the shirt with both large hands. She screeched, but he had her shirt ripped in two before she landed the first punch.
* * *
JAIME PRETENDED TO laugh as Gabby pounded at him. He glanced at The Stallion, doing his best to stand between the man and his view of Gabby. He’d tried not to look himself, but he needed the illusion of a fight. A sexual one.
He couldn’t let his disgust at that show. “Senor?” The Stallion always got some bizarre thrill when Jaime called him that, so he’d done it with increasing regularity. Being the egomaniac that he was, The Stallion never got tired of it. “An hour, no?”
“I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need you immediately. Your hour will have to wait.”
Jaime scowled. He didn’t have to fake it, either. He wanted more information from Gabriella. If the woman had remembered how many guards were dismissed every year...who knew what other kind of information she might have.
Jaime inclined his head as if he agreed, though he didn’t at all. He wanted to get information out of Gabriella as soon as possible. The more he got and the sooner he got it, the less he’d have to do for The Stallion.
He gave her a fleeting glance. Those big, dark eyes were edged with fury, and she crossed her arms over her chest. The bra she wore was ill-fitting and he couldn’t help but notice the way her breasts spilled over the fabric even under her crossed arms.
He quickly looked back at The Stallion. He handed Gabriella the remains of her shirt. “Perdón,” he offered, making sure he didn’t sound sorry in the least.
The Stallion chuckled as Jaime walked to meet him at the door. “You could be so much better at your job if you weren’t so easily distracted,” the man said, clapping him on the shoulder in an almost fatherly manner as he pulled the door closed, leaving Gabby alone in the room.
He didn’t lock the door this time and Jaime was surprised at how much freedom he allowed the women he kept there. Of course, the front and back doors were chained and locked even when The Stallion was inside, and all the windows were boarded up in a permanent, meticulous manner.
There were no phones in the house, no computers. Absolutely no technology of any kind aside from kitchen appliances. But even that was relegated to a microwave and a refrigerator. No stove and no knives beyond dull butter ones.
He wondered if the women inside knew that only a couple of yards away, in a decent-size shed, The Stallion kept all the things he denied the women. Computers and phones and an array of weapons, which was where The Stallion was leading Jaime now.
“We have a situation I want you briefed on. Then you may go back to our Gabriella and finish your...” He trailed off and shook his head as he locked and chained the back door they’d exited into an overgrown backyard. “Sex is such a base instinct, Rodriguez. Women are a worthless expense of energy. I’m fifty-three, for over half my life I have searched for the perfect woman and failed time and time again. Though, I will admit the women I’ve kept are of exceptional quality. Just not quite there...”
The man got a far-off look on his face as they walked through the long grass toward his shed. It was the kind of far-off look that kept Jaime up at night. Void of reason or sense, completely and utterly...incomprehensible.
The Stallion patted his shoulder again, tsking. “I know this is all going over your head. You really ought to work on your English.”
Jaime shrugged. It suited his purpose to be seen as n
ot understanding everything that went on because of a language barrier, and at times it had been hard to remember he was supposed to barely understand.
But when The Stallion started going on and on about women, Jaime never had any problems keeping his mouth shut and his expression confused. It was broken and warped and utter nonsense.
The Stallion unlocked the shed and stepped inside. Two men were sitting on chairs around The Stallion’s desk, which was covered in notes and technology. The man strode right to it and sat on his little throne.
“Herman’s gone missing,” he said without preamble, mentioning The Stallion’s most used runner in Austin. “He didn’t deliver his message today, and so far no one has figured out where he disappeared to. Wallace, I’m giving you the rest of today to find him. He can’t have gone too far.”
The fair-haired man in the corner nodded soundlessly.
“If he somehow gives us the slip that long...” The Stallion continued. “Layne, you’ll take him out.”
Layne cracked his knuckles one by one, like he’d seen too many mobster movies. “Be my pleasure. What happens to him if Wallace finds him, though? I wouldn’t mind getting some information out of him.”
The Stallion’s mouth curved into a cold, menacing line that, even after two years, made Jaime’s blood run cold. “Rodriguez will be in charge if we find him. I’d like to see what he can do with a...shall we say, recalcitrant employee. ¿Comprende?”
“Sí, senor.”
“Wallace, you’re dismissed. Report every hour,” The Stallion said with the flick of his wrist. “Layne, have the interrogation room readied for us, please.”
Both men agreed and left the shed. Jaime stood as far from The Stallion as he could without drawing attention to the purposeful space between them. The man steepled his hands together, looking off at some unknown entity Jaime was pretty sure only he could see.
Jaime stood perfectly still, trying to appear detached and uninterested. “Did you need me, senor?”
The Stallion stroked his forehead with the back of his thumb, still looking somewhere else. “Once we figure out what’s going on with Herman, I’ll be moving on to a different location.” His cold, blue gaze finally settled on Jaime. “You’ll stay here and hold down the fort, and Ms. Gabriella will be yours to do whatever you please with her.”