SANTIAGO
After tucking Ciara into bed, I head back downstairs, where Pedro’s waiting in the living room.
“How is she doing?” he asks.
I gesture at a couch while dropping down on the other one. “Today was a good day. She’s starting to talk.”
“That’s good. I’ve sent Jorge and four other men to join the others so they can help search for Nolan Walsh. I was able to get more information on him.” Pedro takes a seat and locks eyes with me. “He’s thirty-three. He’s been married once, but the wife died in a car accident. The house he kept Ciara in belongs to Ian O’Connell. We’re looking for him as well.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I nod.
“Walsh hasn’t paid his taxes for two years, so there’s no work history. He has a father who lives in the UK. I’m keeping an eye on him in case Nolan turns up at his place.”
I think for a moment, then say, “Should we do a search on Ciara?”
Pedro shrugs. “Just give me a photo of her, and I’ll find out everything I can.”
I lift my hand to my face and rub my fingers over my jaw. “I’ll see if she opens up more during the next few days.”
“What do you want to do about Bolivia? It’s been two and a half weeks.”
“I know,” I mutter. “Give me three days to get Ciara settled, then we can leave to shut down that fucking club.”
“I’ll get everything ready for Tuesday.”
Nodding, I let out a sigh.
“Anything else?” Pedro asks. When I shake my head, he asks, “How are you holding up?”
I begin to twirl the diamond ring on my finger, and glancing down at it, I realize I’ll have to get it sized smaller to fit Ciara.
“Santiago?” Pedro says to get my attention.
“It’s hard,” I admit before lifting my eyes to his. “All I want to do is hold her. Comfort her.”
“She’ll get better,” he murmurs. “But take time for yourself as well. You haven’t watched a sunrise since you found her.”
“I don’t need to. She’s my sunrise.”
A worried expression tightens his features. “Are you sure?” When I nod, he asks, “How do you know she’s the one for you, Santiago?”
I lift my hand and pat the area over my heart. “I can feel it. Every day, she burrows in deeper.”
Still looking worried, he murmurs, “Just be careful. I don’t want to see you get hurt.”
The corner of my mouth lifts, and climbing to my feet, I say, “I’m going to head to bed. Have a good night, my friend.”
“You too.”
Knowing Pedro will turn off the lights, I walk toward the staircase and head up. My eyes touch on the trunk, and I almost pass it when I come to a sudden stop, and my head snaps to the side. There’s a sliver of cream fabric peeking out at the corner.
A frown forms on my forehead because the trunk is empty.
Did Astrid put something in it?
Taking hold of the lid, I lift it, and my heart squeezes painfully in my chest when I see Ciara curled up in a tiny ball.
I open the lid all the way before crouching down and whispering, “Why are you in the trunk, mi pequeño sol?”
She doesn’t answer me, but instead tightens her arms around her shins.
At the hospital, she spent a lot of time under the bed, but here she chooses the trunk.
I tilt my head, realizing it must make her feel safe.
“Get out so we can move the trunk to your bedroom.”
She hesitates but slowly pulls herself out, her face filled with caution as she watches me.
I grasp the handle on the side. “Grab the other side, Ciara.”
When she does as she’s told, we carry the trunk to her bedroom and set it down at the foot of her bed.
“Don’t get in yet,” I say before leaving the room to fetch a soft blanket from the linen closet.
Returning, I open the trunk and place the blanket at the bottom, then I gesture for Ciara to get in.
Her body’s wound tight as she climbs back inside. I move to her bed and pull the sheet off. Unfortunately, there isn’t space for a warm, thick blanket, but at least it’s not too cold tonight.
I fold the sheet until it’s the perfect size to fit over Ciara. I tuck the sides in around her before crouching next to the trunk.
“Leave the lid open. Okay?” She just stares at me, and it has me explaining, “I don’t want you to suffocate.”
I’m not going to shut an eye tonight.
Straightening up, I let out a sigh. Thinking for a moment, I walk to the bathroom and grab two towels. I head back to the trunk, and folding them, I drape them over the sides. When I lower the lid, it doesn’t shut all the way, leaving a half-inch gap open for fresh air to get in.
Much better.
Rubbing my palm over the wood, I say, “Sleep tight, mi pequeño sol.”
When I walk out of her bedroom, I only make it a few steps down the hallway before my feet refuse to move any further.
Fuck.
Just tonight.
Turning around, I head back, and after switching off the light, I grab a pillow and move it to the foot of the bed before lying down with my head right by the trunk. I rest my hand over my heart and slowly twirl the engagement ring around my finger as I stare up at the ceiling fan.
I hear Ciara shift in the trunk, and I worry she’s going to be fucking sore tomorrow from sleeping in that tight space.
Christ, I wish she’d start feeling safe with me.
Time creeps by, and after what feels like hours, I turn onto my stomach and prop my chin on my forearms, my eyes resting on the trunk.
The lid starts to lift, and I quickly turn my head to the side and close my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I listen as Ciara moves, thinking she’s going to the bathroom, but I’m surprised as fuck when I feel her slowly getting onto the bed.
Minutes pass, and wanting to connect with her a little more, I whisper, “The trunk is very special to me. It’s all I have left of my family.”
I open my eyes and see that she’s lying as close to the side as she can without falling off, her hands tucked beneath her head. I sit up, and grabbing the other pillow, I place it down in front of her.
“Put it under your head.”
I wait for her to do as she’s told, then I carefully pull the covers over her.
I lie down on my back again and let out a slow breath as happiness and relief trickle into my chest.
“Santiago,” she whispers.
“Yes, mi sol.”
“What happened to your family?”
“They were massacred when I was fourteen. I survived because I hid in the trunk.”
She’s quiet for a while before saying, “I’m sorry.” Another few seconds pass, then she admits, “My dad was killed the day after Nolan took me.”
I turn my head toward her. “Did Nolan kill him?”
Her eyes meet mine in the dark. “No. Men attacked the house and…” she pauses, and I can feel how she tenses. “Other men killed him.”
Pushing my luck, I ask, “How did you know Nolan before he kidnapped you?”
“He was a guard.”
A frown forms on my forehead. “What’s your father’s name?”
She shakes her head and curls into a small ball again.
If her family had guards, it means they were prominent people. The average person doesn’t have a protective detail.
Who of importance has died in the past year?
I stare up at the ceiling, itching to pull out my phone so I can search the internet.
Time passes, and I begin to feel sleepy, but just before I doze off, my body jerks, and my eyes snap open.
The day Dominik and Grace got married, her father, Ian Devlin, was assassinated by the Bratva. They wanted to take over the arms market, but instead, Dominik kept control over it. Right after that, the alliance was formed.
I turn my head to Ciara, my heart speeding up in my chest.
I don’t know much about Grace’s family. I haven’t bothered to ask about them, but she hasn’t mentioned anything about a sister or cousin being missing.
Needing answers right now, I get up and walk out of the bedroom. I pull the door shut behind me and remove my phone from my pocket.
I type in Ian Devlin and go to photos. A second later, I stare at a picture of Devlin, Grace, and Ciara.
Ciara is smiling, her arms hooked through Grace’s, and I’m struck speechless by the happiness and innocence on her face.
I tap on the photo and read the article, learning that Ciara is, in fact, Devlin’s youngest daughter.
Grace never fucking mentioned her. Neither did Dominik. Are they looking for her?
Lifting a hand, I push my fingers through my hair.
We’ve had many meetings on the island where we’ve discussed problems we were dealing with, and not once did Dominik inform us that his sister-in-law is missing.
What the fuck is going on here?
Opening the chat with Dominik, I think for a moment before I type a message.
Santiago: How are things on the island? Getting any sleep?
I watch as he reads it before replying.
Dominik: I’m running on two hours of sleep. Come babysit.
Santiago: A little busy right now. I just got back from Ireland, and while I was there, Ian Devlin popped into my mind. What happened to his estate?
Dominik: It was split between his brother, Grace, and his other daughter.
Santiago: Grace has a sister?
Dominik: Yeah.
Santiago: You never mentioned her.
Dominik: Didn’t think I had to. What’s with all the questions?
Santiago: Just bored and curious.
The next moment, my phone rings, and seeing Dominik’s name, I let out a sigh.
“Hey,” I answer.
“What’s going on?” his voice rumbles over the line.
I move away from the door and lean against the banister, looking at the foyer below.
Dominik has never given me any reason not to trust him, but because it involves Ciara, I hesitate.
“Santiago?”
I twirl the ring around my finger, weighing my options before I say, “Nothing. I’m just having a shit night.”
“We’re lying to each other now?” he asks.
“Okay.” I glance at the shut door. “I’m going to tell you something, but you can’t lose your shit. You have to let me deal with it.”
“What the fuck is going on?”
“I found Ciara.”
“What?” He pauses for a moment. “What do you mean you found her?”
“I fucking found her running for her life in Ireland. She was held captive since the day before Ian was killed.”
“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hisses. “Are you sure it’s Ciara Devlin?”
“Yes.” I close my eyes. “Why didn’t you look for her?”
“I didn’t know she was fucking missing. The last time Grace spoke to her, Ciara said she was traveling somewhere in Europe.”
My eyes snap open. “They talked to each other?”
“Yes, but it’s been a while. I think Grace tried to contact Ciara after we found out she was pregnant, but Ciara didn’t reply.”
Anger pours into my chest, and I bite the words out through clenched teeth, “And you didn’t think to look for her?”
I hear Dominik sigh. “Grace thought Ciara made a new life for herself in Europe. She didn’t want to get in the way of that. I did offer to track Ciara down, but Grace didn’t want that. She was hurt that her sister turned cold toward her.”
“Turned cold toward her,” I mutter. “She was being fucking tortured. She was conditioned. She’s fucking broken!”
I suck in a few breaths in an attempt to calm down, and it gives Dominik time to say, “She never gave us the impression she was in trouble, Santiago. I can send you the messages she and Grace exchanged.”
“The fucker could’ve typed anything to make you think Ciara was safe!” I snap.
“Grace spoke on the phone with Ciara.”
I pause, my frown darkening. “Fuck.”
“Let’s calm down and think clearly. We need to decide what to do next.”
“There’s nothing to decide,” I mutter.
“Grace will want to see Ciara. Bring her to the island.”
“No.” I shake my head hard. “She’s in no condition to travel. I just got her to eat on her own. I’m not risking the progress I’ve made.”
“How bad is she?”
“She’s fucking broken, Dominik,” I repeat my words of earlier. “He completely fucked with her head.”
“Who kidnapped her?”
“Nolan Walsh. My men are looking for him now.” Only then do I think to ask, “Ever heard of him? He was a guard at their home.”
“I didn’t know the names of the guards,” he mutters. “Jesus Christ.”
“Look, you have Kristian, who’s taking up all of your time right now,” I say. “Ciara is very vulnerable. Give me time with her so she can heal, then we’ll arrange for her and Grace to meet.”
“You want me to keep this from my wife?”
“Well, you can tell her and deal with the consequences. If Grace sees the state Ciara is in, it will rip her fucking heart out.” I need to buy time. “You know Ciara is safe with me.”
“Fuck,” he grumbles. “Give me a second to think.”
I glance at the shut bedroom door again, then say, “Ciara is the one I’ve been looking for, Dominik. She’s meant to be with me.”
He lets out an audible breath. “Grace will never forgive me for keeping this from her. I can’t do it.”
I clench my jaw as I think for a moment. “I’m going to hang up so we can FaceTime. I want you to see what I’m talking about so you’ll understand where I’m coming from.”
I end the call and start a video call with Dominik.
I flip the camera, so it shows what I’m looking at, then I go to open the door and switch on the light.
Ciara isn’t on the bed where I left her, and the trunk is shut.
“Give me a second,” I mutter. I put the phone down on the dressing table, making sure it has a clear view of the room.
Walking to the trunk, I crouch beside it and lift the lid.
Ciara’s curled into a tight ball, and she cautiously peeks at me.
“Come out, mi sol.”
I move back, and it takes close to a minute before she slowly climbs out. When she’s standing, she wraps her arms around her middle, lowers her head, and curls her shoulders forward.
“I found out who you are,” I say, and it has her eyes darting to my face. “Ciara Devlin.”
Terror tightens her features, and she starts to shake her head, then she drops to her knees and begs, “Please. Please. Please.”
I crouch down again and try to catch her frightened gaze, but she’s spiraling fast and hard.
“Please, what?” I ask.
She shakes her head desperately.
“Do you want to see Grace?”
Ciara jerks back as if I’ve hit her, and then she loses her fucking mind, launching her body at me.
I forget about the video call as her fists slam into my chest and neck. She fights with all her strength and I work my ass off to pin her arms to her side. When I have her in a tight grip with one arm, I press my other hand to her forehead so she doesn’t headbutt me and hurt herself.
Our breaths exploding over our lips is the only sound in the room for a solid minute before Ciara begins to weep, sounding like a wounded animal.
It rips my heart out of my chest, and I quickly turn her around before squashing her to my chest. Holding her fucking tight, it takes forever before she begins to calm down. Her body slumps against mine, and lost sobs drift over her lips.
“You’re safe,” I whisper.
Ciara pulls out of my arms, and I watch as she climbs back into the trunk before pulling the lid shut.
Well, that was a clusterfuck of epic proportions.
Standing up, I grab the phone and leave the bedroom. I bring the screen up so I can see Dominik’s face, then say, “I don’t give a flying fuck about how Grace will feel. Ciara is the only one who matters. She is not mentally ready for anything right now. I’ve just gotten her to wipe her own ass and feed herself. It will take months, if not longer, before she’s able to handle something as intense as a reunion with her sister.”
Dominik shakes his head slowly, but then he nods. “I understand. Grace’s hormones are all over the place, and seeing Ciara like that will break her.”
“You protect Grace and let me work with Ciara. Give me a month, then we can check in with each other.”
“But you’ll let me know if Ciara is ready sooner?” he asks.
I nod, then add, “Whatever happens in the future, I need to be very clear about one thing.”
He raises an eyebrow. “What?”
“Ciara is mine.”
“Let’s just get through the next few weeks, then we can talk again.” I tilt my head, staring Dominik dead in the eye. He lets out a tired chuckle. “I get it, Santiago. She’s yours, but brace yourself for one hell of an overprotective Grace. She’s going to fight you.” He pauses, then asks, “Are we good?”
I nod while lifting a hand to rub the back of my neck where tension is building. “Yeah. We’re good.”
We end the video call, and needing to do some serious damage control, I head back into Ciara’s room.
