Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
I shifted in my seat, grateful for the dark cover of night to hide the range of emotions surely playing out on my face.
How could I have missed all this?
How were girls and boys and humans enduring this every day, and why weren’t more people helping?
I looked down at my hands. Had I made a terrible mistake treating Cristiano with such disdain, even though he was still guilty of his crimes against me?
“What about the men?” I asked. “Where are they from?”
“All over—and right there. Many of the residents who live within the walls were there when we arrived.”
“The town you plundered, raped, and pillaged.”
“That’s the rumor, yes. And I thank you not to dispel it, since it keeps our reputation intact.”
If Cristiano hadn’t said something similar at dinner a few nights earlier, I might not have believed him. But it seemed he not only appreciated his bad reputation—he needed it to continue the work he did.
“We needed a town in a strategic location with natural security like the ocean to protect our backs, the mountain over our heads, and the flat desert to see anyone foolish enough to approach. We found that, and we took it.” He flexed his hand on the wheel and leaned an elbow on the windowsill. “But we came to the townspeople with respect,” he said. “We worked out an amicable deal with those who wanted to stay and compensated those who didn’t—all with non-disclosure agreements, of course.”
It was like a fairytale, and I wanted to believe it. But regardless of what Cristiano had done for others, there was one person who wouldn’t get a happy ending.
As he pulled into the lot behind La Madrina, the tires tread over a track to a sliding gate. He parked, exited, and helped me out before taking my bag and his suitcase from the trunk.
“We’re sleeping here at the club?” I asked, removing Cristiano’s jacket and then the bulletproof vest.
“Sí.” I tried to take my duffel from him, but he hoisted it over his shoulder. With the cell phone tucked into the bag’s bottom, I probably didn’t need to worry, but Cristiano seemed to know all. He had yet to punish me for anything like snooping or snarky comebacks and barbed words—but if he thought I’d used the phone at all to get in touch with Diego or anyone outside this cartel, his threats would no longer be idle.
“Opening your mouth would be a death sentence.”
He turned to me. “Leave the vest. Put your jacket back on. I won’t have club rats ogling my wife.”
It didn’t much matter what I wore. We used a private entrance in the back and rode upstairs in an elevator reserved for him and his team.
We walked out of the elevator and across a carpeted hallway that thumped under my feet. He unlocked his office and held the door open for me. It was an extension of his club—sleek and black with shiny surfaces and gold hardware. Computer monitors with surveillance footage made up the wall behind his desk. A bar cart in one corner held decanters, glasses, and spirits in varying sizes. I went to the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the club. Aqua, turquoise, and seafoam green lights splashed over the patrons and made shimmery, squiggly lines on the dancefloor.
“Tonight’s theme—Bajo el Mar,” he said.
“Under the sea.” So many people, and they probably had no idea they were being watched. “How long did you spy on me before you made your presence known?”
“Long enough to know you were looking for me. Long enough to fantasize about stealing you away to my office.”
“And here I am.” I turned to face him, wondering why he’d brought me here. Was he planning something? Or was a change of scenery supposed to be a gift to me? The spot of blood I’d seen on his shirt earlier was now one of many. “You wore a tie just to murder a man?”
“No. I wore it to murder three.” He dipped his head with a sinister smile. “How about a drink, mi amor?”
How easily we slipped back into our roles—Cristiano in control, and me trying to make sense of things and even anticipate his next move. “You don’t have what I want.”
“I own a bar. Try me.”
“Coca Light.”
He cocked his head. “Of course I have it.”
“Warm,” I said. “That’s the only way I like it.”
He paused. “I’ll have them put it in the microwave.”
Despite my uncertainty over what was happening around me, I almost laughed. “I mean unrefrigerated.”
He winked and kept his eyes on me as he picked up his desk phone and placed my order.
I glanced around the dimly-lit office shaded blue by the ocean theme. “Do we sleep on the couch?”
“We can if you like. It’d be cozier.”
“What’s the alternative?”
“I have a bed on the next floor.”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling as if I might be able to see through it.