I think Javier even sensed that I didn’t want him to leave. When he was done carving the V, I started asking him questions. About his family, about his own past. He waited in the dark, thinking, perhaps about my angle. Why I was curious. Then he told me that I could have answers at another time.

Then he left, locking me in the room, locking me in with the nightmares that would never end.

I suppose the lack of sleep showed on my face, because when Esteban came into the room in the morning, he did a double take as I lay there on the bed, staring dumbly at the wall.

“Rough night?” he asked, a careful tone to his voice.

I didn’t have the energy to be amused at his apparent concern.

He put the breakfast tray down beside him and walked to the end of the bed. He playfully grabbed my foot. It made me jump, withdrawing my knees to my chest as my attention snapped to him.

“So you are alive,” he said, taking his hand back. “Glad to see it. I brought you breakfast.”

I glared at him. I’d refused dinner last night and thought I could pretend not to be hungry, but my stomach growled in protest.

“Tell you what,” Esteban said, noting my expression. “How about we make today a little bit better for you?”

“Better for me,” I spat out. “How about you stop pretending that you’re doing me favors? Don’t think for one second that I haven’t forgotten why I’m here.”

“Just eat your breakfast. I’ll come back with some new clothes for you. I think you’ve earned it. Then we’ll go for a walk. Doesn’t that sound nice, hey.” He grinned at me and then left the room, locking the door behind him.

I waited a bit, trying to ignore the food, but my resolve could not overpower my stomach. I scarfed down the tortilla and eggs and a large cup of coffee. I never knew when I’d need my strength.

I’d just finished when Esteban came back into the room, carrying a woven bag full of clothes. He tossed it on the bed. “For you,” he said, bending down to pick up the empty plate. “Take a shower, get dressed. I’ll be back here in thirty minutes whether you’re ready or not.”

I eyed the clothes spilling out of the bag. “Where did these come from?”

“Long story,” he said. “Let’s just say Javier can be sentimental.”

I wanted to hear this story—I had no idea that someone like Javier could possess that emotion. When he’d gone again, I pulled out an aqua skirt that was so long on my short frame it would fit me as a dress instead. I went into the bathroom and ran the shower. As the room filled up with steam, I couldn’t remember the last time I had been clean. It had to have been at Salvador’s, the night I ran away, yet I never felt clean when I was his wife. He filled my life with dirt.

Of course, I technically still was his wife. But the word had never meant anything to me.

I stayed in the shower for so long, letting the hot water strip me down, wishing for my worries and nightmares to be carried down the drain, that I was surprised when there was a knock at my door. I could hear Esteban in my room, and I quickly dried myself and slipped into the dress, my wet hair cascading down my back.

I paused in the doorway of the bathroom as Esteban looked at me and smiled.

“You look ravishing,” he said.

His compliment bounced right off me. I didn’t understand how I could look ravishing with no makeup and wet hair and a bruised face, and I wasn’t falling for it. Men thought women were so easy, that they could tell us how beautiful and thin we were, and we’d excuse them for whatever they’d done or were about to do. Until I met a man that saw past all of that, saw me for me, compliments meant nothing.

I nearly smirked to myself. There was no chance of that happening anymore. I’d either die here, surrounded by drug lords, or live with Salvador. All my chances of love and happiness with a man had gone out the window the moment Salvador stepped into Cabo Cocktails.

“Care to join me?” he asked, holding his arm out, as if he were some gentleman.

I stared at it and then at him. “Where?”

He shrugged. “I told you. A walk. I thought it might be good for you to get some fresh air.”

“Oh, and you’re so concerned about my well-being?”

Another shrug. “I’m not a monster,” he said.

“No. Just a chump.”

He frowned and I knew I was pushing my luck with him. I stifled a wave of apprehension that coursed through me.

“You know,” he said slowly, his gaze intensifying, “I may be the only friend you have here. I might be the difference between life and death for you … or losing your little toe or your whole leg.”

I wasn’t sure if I believed that. Even though Esteban was Javier’s right-hand man and business partner, I don’t think he had the power he thought he did. It seemed that he constantly wanted to call the shots with Javier but wasn’t quite there. If I were Javier, I’d keep a close eye on him.

“Friends don’t threaten each other,” I told him.

The darkness on his brow eased up. “I guess not. Well. Come on then.”

He gestured for me to grab his arm again. I ignored him but slipped on my running shoes just the same. The truth was, I wanted, needed, to get outside and breathe fresh air and feel the world again. I felt like I was losing perspective of the value of life.

We walked out into the hallway, me in front of him, and were just about to head down the stairs when the guard who was stationed at the end of the hall stepped out in front of us. At least, I thought he was a guard, at first. But from the way he blocked the stairs, arms crossed, with a menacing twitch to his face, I could tell he was more than just a guard.

He leered at me in a way that made my skin feel sick.

This was Franco, the man responsible for the bruise on my face. I could just tell.

“Where are you going?” Franco asked Esteban, though he was staring at me.

“None of your business, Franco,” he said. He gestured for him to get out of the way but Franco wouldn’t budge.

“Planning on running away with the hostage?” he asked. He had a stupid look in his eyes, but in this world, it was the stupid people you had to fear. Too much testosterone and too little brains were a dangerous combination. I had no doubt that if Esteban wasn’t there, I would be in big trouble. It didn’t help that Franco was a huge guy with muscles that pulsed grotesquely.

“I just want to feel her hair,” he said, licking his lips as if I was a steak. “The whores have such rough hair.”

He reached out and made a fist in it. I gasped but couldn’t move or else his grip would yank a huge chunk out.

“So you’ve felt it now,” Esteban said, sounding tired. “Kindly move out of the way. We’re just going for a walk.”

Franco gave my hair a small tug, enough to make me gasp again. Then he grinned and let go.

“Sure thing,” he said, chuckling to himself and moved aside to let us pass.

Esteban quickly led me past him. We were halfway down the stairs when I heard Franco whisper after me, “Much better than a whore’s.”

I shivered even as Esteban took me out of the house and into the bright sunshine.

“Don’t pay any attention to Franco,” he said to me. “He’s a bit messed up in the head.”

“I can see that,” I said, my heart rate returning to normal as the fresh air filled my lungs and the heat hit my skin. The house was located at the end of a rocky road. There was a simple dirt driveway leading out and long, overgrown grass that stretched toward a decrepit wooden fence and miles of forest beyond that. No neighbors, no nothing.

“You shouldn’t be afraid of him,” he went on as we walked together. “Or maybe you should.”

I swallowed. “I’m not afraid.”

“You know, I met a girl like you once,” he told me as we walked down the driveway, ochre dirt rising up in the still air. I was barely listening to him. I was taking in every sight, every opportunity. There were no guards out here which I thought was curious. Franco, thank god, had decided not to trail us, and all the rest of the guards seemed to be inside the house, perhaps with Javier.