Claiming My Sweet Captive

The guards complied, sealing their fates. The need to protect Samantha gave me almost inhuman speed and strength. I moved with vicious precision, snapping both the men’s necks in a matter of seconds.

I prowled toward my brother, closing the distance between us. When I reached him, I dropped down onto one knee, so I could look into Samantha’s eyes. They were sharp with adrenaline, but her fingers were loose around the knife. Despite her violent precision in taking down Cristian, she still didn’t have it in her to kill a man. My sweet, innocent Samantha.

I’d do it for her.

“Hand me the knife, cosita,” I ordered, my voice smooth and calm as I settled into my decision.

She allowed me to pluck it from her fingers, but her other hand remained fisted in his hair, holding his head in place. My gaze slid from her to my brother. He was still struggling to draw in air, incapable of crafting any cruel words. He’d taken everything from me: Valentina, Abuela. He’d tried to take my Samantha.

I’d never allow that to happen.

A feral snarl rumbled from my chest, and I slashed at his face. He screamed as the blade grated against bone and teeth, revealing a flash of white through the crimson gore. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, savoring the sound of his suffering. Then, I looked my brother in the eye for the last time. I drew the knife back and slammed it into the center of his chest, twisting it to shred his black heart. Cristian’s entire body shuddered before going still. His lifeless form sagged against Samantha, and they both fell back.

Something was wrong. She didn’t try to push him off her. Blood pooled on the concrete beneath both their bodies.

I heaved his dead weight off her, and panic sharper than Cristian’s knife pierced my heart. A dark hole had been torn through her right hip, and blood seeped from the open wound where one of the guard’s bullets had caught her.

“Sirenita,” I said, strained. “Stay with me.”

“I came back for you. I’ll never leave you,” she promised, her voice faint. “I love you.”

I scooped her up, and a strangled cry ripped from her throat. I rushed toward the elevator and started speaking to her in Spanish, promising her that she was going to be okay, that I’d keep her safe. She pressed her cheek against my chest, and her eyes fluttered closed.

Her blood soaked my crisp white shirt, but there was nothing I could do to stem the flow.

As soon as I got back to my penthouse, I grabbed up my phone from where I kept it in my desk drawer. My private physician answered on the second ring, and I ordered him to come to me, explaining Samantha’s injury.

I laid her out on the bed and waited for the doctor to arrive with his team. A hospital would be more sterile, but I didn’t have time to take her. My physician lived in the next building over, and he’d get to her much faster than an ambulance. Still, the few minutes it took for him to arrive seemed to take an eternity.

I didn’t want to let go of her hand, but I stepped back, allowing him to work. He managed to stop the blood loss and patched her up enough so I could move her. We couldn’t linger here, or the feds might close in on us. They’d separate us, and I wouldn’t allow that to happen.

Satisfied that she wasn’t going to bleed out on my bed, I decided it was time to get out of Chicago. I put in a call to ready my private jet. We’d leave the city before the FBI could locate my home. Then, I’d get her more medical attention, and we could figure out where to go from there. I was sure my clever Samantha would have a plan for our future. As long as I kept her by my side, we’d both be safe.

Samantha’s eyes finally cleared, focusing on me when she woke from a natural sleep. I’d made sure the doctors kept feeding her painkillers over the last several days. I couldn’t bear the thought of her hurting, so I’d mostly kept her under. I’d made a large donation to the hospital in Cancún, and they didn’t ask questions when I made demands to ensure her comfort.

“Andrés?” Her voice rasped from disuse.

I picked up a cup of water from the tray next to her bed and helped her drink. After a few sips, she cleared her throat and tried again.

“Where’s Cristian?” Her eyes widened as her memory resurfaced. “Oh.”

I squeezed her hand. “He’s gone,” I confirmed. “He’ll never hurt you again.”

“I’m glad,” she said with sudden fervor. “If he’s dead, he can’t hurt you, either.”

“How did he get you away from the FBI?” I asked the question that had been burning in my mind ever since I’d entered that basement to find her strung up for torment. I didn’t understand how Cristian had managed to capture her, and I hadn’t stayed in town long enough to figure it out. I’d abandoned all my people, my drug empire. I didn’t want it. I never had; I’d simply been born into it.

Running away with Samantha, knowing we were free from Cristian, was the sweetest relief. And now that she was awake and alert, peace settled over me.

“He didn’t get me away from the FBI,” she responded. “I left them. I came back to save you.”

My hand tightened around hers. “You what?” I demanded.

She speared me with a level stare. “Did you really think I was going to leave you alone with Cristian? Knowing he’d hurt you for letting me go? Do you think I’d ever leave you for any reason? I love you, Andrés. I won’t let anything keep us apart. Not Cristian, and not you.”

I stroked her palm with my thumb. “I didn’t want to let you go. It was the only way I knew to protect you.”

She blew out a sigh. “I understand. Just don’t try to do it again, okay? I’m safest with you.”