SANTIAGO
The woman regained consciousness only once during the flight home. She was hysterical, and I was forced to sedate her.
Due to saving so many people over the years, I always travel with a medical kit so we can treat wounds on the go. After I cleaned the severe lacerations around her ankles, I wrapped them with bandages.
I’ve already notified Dr. Pires that I’m on my way, so she can get everything ready, because I want to have a complete check-up done.
After climbing out of the SUV, I hurry into the clinic and carefully place the woman down on the stretcher. “Check everything,” I order. “I’ve given her the sedative.”
Dr. Pires nods while her nurse, Emma, pushes the bed down a hallway.
“Do you have any information on the woman?” the doctor asks as we follow the nurse to a room where the X-ray and CT scanner is.
“No. I found her in a field.”
Coming to a stop in front of the machines, I stand beside Dr. Pires and cross my arms over my chest.
It feels like the tests are taking forever when Dr. Pires finally says, “No broken bones. Everything looks okay. We’ll move her to a room before taking blood and doing the rest of the checks.”
After moving her to a private room so she isn’t around other patients, I have to wait outside in the hallway because they’re also checking for any signs of sexual assault. We do the same checks on every person we bring to the compound, so we know exactly what we’re dealing with.
The door opens, and Dr. Pires smiles at me. “It will take a few days before we get all the blood test results back. She has scarring on her back. It could be from being whipped.” Dr. Pires takes a breath, compassion for our patient tightening her features. “The lacerations around her ankles will obviously leave permanent scarring, but there’s no infection. There are also no signs that she’s been raped.” The doctor glances back into the room. “Her virginity is still intact.”
Intense relief pours through me, hearing my little ray of sunshine wasn’t raped, which makes me think she was held captive by a woman. Maybe an abusive mother?
Unclipping the two-way radio from my belt, I say, “Pedro, tell the guards in Ireland the person who held her captive might be a woman.”
“Okay,” he replies. “Has she woken up?”
“Not yet.” I clip the radio back into place before walking into the room.
“I’ll let you know as soon as we get the test results,” Dr. Pires says. “Call me if she regains consciousness while you’re with her.”
I nod, moving to the side of the bed.
Suddenly, my phone rings and I quickly pull the device out of my pocket. Seeing Dominik’s name on the screen, I answer, “Hey, how’s everything going?”
“Good. Grace and Kristian are doing well. I’m tired as fuck, though.”
“Kristian. It’s a strong name. Congratulations, brother. Send me a photo of the little one.”
“Thanks.” He pauses for a moment. “Listen, I didn’t want to do this over the phone, but will you be my son’s godfather?”
A smile splits over my face. “I knew you loved me.”
“Yeah-yeah,” he mutters.
“Of course. I’d be honored,” I reply to his question, my eyes still locked on the woman. “I have some good news.”
“Yeah? You finally done taking down the Rojas Cartel?”
“Not yet.” My smile widens. “I found my woman.”
“Oh. Who is she?”
My gaze drifts over her. She looks vulnerable as fuck beneath the white sheet. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Dominik barks in my ear.
“I found her in a field, running for her life. She hasn’t come to, yet.”
“So you know nothing about her? Are you fucking insane?”
“Maybe, but that doesn’t matter.” I chuckle, and when I speak again, my voice is filled with amazement. “She’s fucking beautiful.”
“Be careful, Santiago,” he warns me.
“Don’t worry about me.”
“Someone has to worry about your crazy ass,” he grumbles. “I have to go. Grace is waking up.”
“Give her a hug from me,” I taunt him because he’s so fucking possessive over his woman.
“Not a chance in hell.”
Ending the call, I let out a soft burst of laughter while shaking my head.
Just as I tuck the phone back into my pocket, the woman lets out a soft groan and turns her head to the side.
I move closer and watch as her eyes flutter open, but it’s only for a couple of seconds before she passes out again.
CIARA
Prying my eyes open, my sight focuses on the white ceiling above me.
Horrific memories knock the air from my lungs, and for a moment, I struggle to suck in a breath of air. My heartbeat steadily increases until it’s thundering in my chest, then the smell of antiseptic liquid gets through to me.
Frowning because the air doesn’t smell dusty and stale, I begin to feel confused.
Am I not in the house?
Slowly, I turn my head to my right, but instead of seeing Nolan and the bedroom, I stare at a machine showing my blood pressure and heart rate.
Where am I?
I cautiously glance to my left, and my gaze freezes on a man. He looks relaxed in an armchair while he reads something on his phone. I can’t see much of his face, but then he lifts his head, and his attention focuses on me. His eyes are a mixture of brown and green, the ring around the irises the color of whiskey, and his hair dark brown and thick. He’s wearing tan-colored chinos and a dress shirt that’s untucked with the sleeves rolled up.
Who is he?
I begin to struggle into a sitting position, my gaze darting between the man and the door, which seems to lead to a hallway.
He doesn’t move but watches me like a hawk as he murmurs, “You’re safe.” His voice is deep and rich with an accent.
European or Latino?
I can’t tell.
The panic and desperation that have been my constant companions the past months shudder through me, and slowly shaking my head, my eyes remain glued to the man as I cautiously slide off the side of the bed. The moment my feet touch the floor, my eyes dart between the man and the doorway.
“You’re safe,” he repeats the words that mean nothing to me. “You’re at my clinic.” He gestures at me. “The IV isn’t done running its course yet.”
My head turns to the side, and seeing the IV stand, my eyes follow the tube to where it’s stuck into the back of my hand. Not thinking twice, I grab hold of it and yank the needle out of my skin.
Did he drug me?
I hear movement, and my head snaps up. Seeing the man, who’s easily twice my size, slowly walking toward me with his hands held in the universal gesture for ‘I come in peace,’ I take a step backward, my gaze darting to the doorway again.
He stops walking and shakes his head. “You’re safe here. I’m not going to hurt you.” He waits a few seconds before taking another cautious step toward me, and it makes my desperation morph into ice-cold fear.
For an intense moment, we’re caught in a stare-off, the silence stretching around us, and the antiseptic smell becoming overpowering.
A comforting smile begins to tug at his lips, and even though I’m out of it and scared shitless, I notice he’s very attractive. He’s bigger than Nolan and clearly stronger.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
I glance at the door again and clear my throat before I whisper, “Ciara.”
“And your last name?”
I shake my head, refusing to give him any more personal information. I don’t want anyone to find out about Grace.
“Okay,” he murmurs, his tone meant to be soothing, but it has the opposite effect on me.
My heart keeps thundering in my chest, and goosebumps spread over my skin.
“I’m Santiago Castro,” he introduces himself.
My tongue darts out to lick my lips, and when a woman wearing a white coat walks into the room, she draws his attention away from me, and I make a mad dash for the door.
“Shit!” the woman gasps.
Just as I rush into the hallway, arms lock around me from behind, and I’m easily lifted off my feet.
A whimper escapes me as I’m carried back into the room, and as my wide eyes land on the bed, I hear the door being shut.
I struggle against Santiago’s hold with all my might, but nothing comes of it. Suddenly, I feel a sharp prick in my arm, and my head whips to the side in time to see the woman pull a needle out of my skin.
My eyes lift to hers, and giving her a pleading look, I’m unable to say anything as a medicated calmness gradually soaks into my bones until my eyes drift shut.
“Shh.” Nolan brushes his hand over my hair after he just beat me so badly I’m struggling to breathe past the sobs and shock. “This didn’t have to happen. I know you can be a good girl, Ciara. I watched you for three months, and this isn’t like you at all.”
I turn my head away from him, pressing my bruised face into the covers.
“It was love at first sight. The moment I saw you coming out of the house with Grace, I just knew we were meant to be. I immediately started making plans. I got this house from an elderly man.” He lets out a chuckle. “Well, I actually had to take it from him. But don’t worry. He’s buried out back, so he won’t bother us.”
Oh God. He killed someone!
Waking up, I feel lethargic and struggle to open my eyes. I stare at a white ceiling, and it takes a moment for the memories to trickle into my mind.
My movements are sluggish as I lift my arm, but then I hear a chair creak, and I freeze.
I glance at the foot of the bed and see a man slowly walking toward me. I don’t recognize him.
“Hi, Ciara,” he murmurs, his voice smooth like velvet.
He knows my name?
Confused, I just stare at him.
“I’m Santiago. Do you remember me?”
I don’t respond to his question as he stops beside the bed, a gentle expression on his handsome face.
I take in the diamond stud in his left earlobe and the smaller stud in his left nostril. He has light brown strands sprinkled through his dark brown hair.
“How do you feel?” he asks.
My lips part, and my mouth feels dry as I whisper, “Weird. Sluggish.”
My mind won’t work, and my eyes drift closed for a moment. I have to force them open, then say, “Water.”
The man reaches for a glass beside the bed, but when his hand slips behind my head, and he brings the water to my mouth, an overwhelming sense of fear shoots through me. I slap the glass away from me and try to dart to the right, but the man grabs hold of me.
“Shh. It’s okay. You’re safe.”
His words make my fear intensify, and I begin to sob while giving him a pleading look. “I’m sorry.” My breaths explode over my lips. “I ran. I got away.” I shake my head, not making sense of anything, as I stare at the man who looks nothing like Nolan.
His hands grip my shoulders, and he presses me back down onto the bed while saying, “You got away. I found you in a field. You’re safely in the hospital.”
What?
The thought is fleeting before my vision blurs, and I lose consciousness.
