Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 78228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78228 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 391(@200wpm)___ 313(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I hope the bastard died slowly.
“What the fuck were you doing wandering alone down an alley in Juárez with a pocketful of cash?” My anger at her attacker roughened my harsh demand.
I was more certain than ever of my decision to keep her. Marisol definitely needed to be kept and closely guarded. Her survival instincts seemed to be nonexistent.
She’d appeared shattered when she’d stepped off that bus in Juárez. I’d arrived well before she did, having taken Stefano’s private jet. But I’d hesitated. Even thinking she’d left me for dead, I’d stalled at the prospect of causing her more anguish. Obviously, she’d been desperate to be free of me. I’d craved to take her, but I’d flinched at the idea that she’d loathe me forever.
When I’d seen the man follow her into the alley, I’d acted immediately. I’d known then that I couldn’t leave her alone.
I didn’t want to leave her alone. I wanted her for myself.
“I was running for my life,” she retorted, some of her inner fire flaring in response to my barked question.
I glanced up from the cold cuts I was piling on her sandwich and found her glaring at me, her arms crossed over her chest. “I thought Stefano would kill me, remember? If he doesn’t want me dead, you could’ve just let me go. You didn’t have to come after me.”
I fixed her with a hard stare. “Yes, I did. Where do you think you’d be right now if I hadn’t pulled that man off you?”
She shuddered and dropped her defiant glare.
“Why Juárez?” I pressed. “You must’ve bought that bus ticket within half an hour of telling me about the coup. You could’ve gone anywhere, but you’ve obviously had this plan in place for a while.”
Her eyes snapped back to mine, and her chin lifted. “It’s a border city. I was going to the US to seek asylum. It’s where I’ve been headed for months, long before I was dragged to Carmen’s estate by one of her lecherous underlings. I’ve paid for my passage to America in pain, and you stopped me when I was only a few miles away from my goal.”
I frowned and slapped the second slice of bread on top of her sandwich. I took a minute to mull over her words while I poured a glass of water and took it to the kitchen island, along with her food. I set the plate down in front of her and paused at the edge of her personal space, seemingly unable to stray too far from her soft warmth.
I hadn’t known that she’d been taken to Carmen’s estate against her will. Now that I thought about it, I barely knew anything about her at all. We’d hardly exchanged more than a handful of sentences during her time as my hostage.
So, she wasn’t seeking asylum from my cartel. She’d been headed for the States before she’d been my captive, fleeing from something else.
Or someone.
“I didn’t think you were so naïve.” It was a simple observation, but she bristled. I continued on before she could say something snappish. “Do you know what would’ve happened when you crossed the border? You would’ve been detained in some hellhole for god knows how long until they eventually scheduled a date to hear your case. And after all that, you’d be shipped right back to where you came from. Right back to whatever—or whoever—you’re running from. It’s a death sentence, one with a particularly long, cruel wait for the judgment to be passed.”
She shook her head, her eyes narrowed on my face. “You don’t know that. You don’t know that they would reject my case.”
“Yes, I do,” I informed her bluntly. “Maybe you’ve been too busy living in your fantasy version of your destination to pay attention to reality. Or maybe the people you paid to take you to the States fed you pretty lies, and you were desperate enough to believe them. But I promise you, you would not be permitted to stay in the US.”
“I don’t believe you.” But the wetness pooling on her lower lashes gave her away. She was lying to herself, and she knew it. Part of her must’ve known all along.
“Your disbelief doesn’t change the facts.” I didn’t bother to soften my tone. She had to understand that trying to cross the border again wasn’t an option. Leaving me wasn’t an option. “I won’t let you go through that. You’re staying here. With me.”
Her soft features firmed to stone, and her thick lashes narrowed. The tears that’d dampened them didn’t spill; she settled into anger and resentment to avoid facing the loss of her deluded fantasy.
I stepped back and mirrored her, folding my arms over my chest and fixing her with my hardest, most unyielding stare. When I turned this menacing expression on men, they jumped to do my bidding. Marisol seemed to shrink in my shadow, and her slender arms shifted to hug herself protectively instead of holding her defiant posture.