Catarina swept past them like a queen. She'd been raised in Rafe Cordeau's home. All those years growing up his soldiers had treated her differently than they had other women. She'd learned to be composed at all times and that composure saved her now.
She swept by the desks without looking at any of them. Glancing at the exit sign above a stairwell, she headed for that, ignoring the elevators. She had an aversion to elevators, and she needed to move anyway. Her gaze swept the offices and she stopped dead. Froze. Everything in her stilled.
She found herself staring into golden eyes. He was watching her through the glass. Ridley Cromer. Her Ridley. Dressed as he'd been the night before when he'd laid in her bed. When he'd kissed her. A kiss she'd asked him for. When she laid her soul bare before him. When she'd trusted him.
She couldn't move for a moment. She couldn't think. Her stomach heaved and she found herself vomiting all over the floor. She didn't care. Nothing mattered. Along with his faded blue jeans and tight tee, he wore a badge. A big, fat shiny badge.
The sense of betrayal, the hurt, was worse than when her mother had sold her to Rafe. Something inside her shattered, broke apart. She felt it go. She felt the knife twisting in her heart. She'd let him in. She'd trusted him. She'd given everything she could to him. She would have traded her life for his.
She vomited again and wiped her mouth after she spit several times, and then she tossed the cell phone and Tuttle's card right in the middle of the vomit. Let the DEA deal with that. Silence surrounded her, but in her head, she could hear screaming. Raw, terrible screaming that rose up like a wail from the dead. She hadn't known another human being could hurt her so deeply.
She sensed movement and she turned and walked straight for the stairs. She didn't run. She refused to give him that satisfaction.
Behind her, she heard Ridley's voice. "She can't leave. What the hell, Frank? She needs to be in protective custody. You know he'll kill her. And what happened to her face? Her wrists? Damn it, I'm fucking going to kill you with my bare hands."
She let the door swing closed behind her and then she ran, taking the stairs two at a time, and then three. She was fast, faster than she'd ever been as if that being inside of her aided her now, aided her when she was no longer Catarina. Ridley had torn out her guts. Her heart. He'd left nothing at all but an empty shell.
"Cat. Stop."
She heard his voice and it only spurred her onward. She burst from the building and ran to the line of taxis at the end of the street. She had no money with her, but hopefully the police had left her stash behind. She could barely speak to give the driver the address. God. God. She'd been such a fool.
There was no way his name was Ridley Cromer. She should have known he wouldn't be interested in a woman who had never been kissed in her life. She'd said it herself, he was a player, and he'd played her beautifully. She'd kissed a man for the first time and she didn't even know his real name.
He had to have disconnected her security system. He'd taken her gun. He'd left her defenseless. He had tried to get information about Rafe from her, and when his gentle probing didn't work, he'd told the others she was going to run. She buried her face in her hands and kept breathing in and out. She had to keep breathing to keep the terrible black void inside of her from swallowing her.
For the first time in her life she wished she were back with Rafe. He'd never lied, not once. He'd never tried to use her own emotions against her. He didn't hide who he was or what he was. She didn't know how to think. Or function. She didn't know how to be Catarina anymore.
6
THE moment Catarina paid the driver and returned to the warehouse, she realized the front door was intact. Ridley knew the combination to get in. He'd observed her unlocking the door many times, and he must have given it to the police so that they made no noise on entry.
Pressure built and built in her chest. So much pressure. Her heart hurt. Her soul hurt. Her eyes burned and her throat swelled. She heard screaming. Real screaming. Raw. Vocal cord-shredding screaming. She screamed for her dead mother. For April and her family. For Marcel who had slapped her face. For the terrible price she'd paid for trying to escape when she was seventeen.
Mostly she screamed to try to find a release from the terrible hurt that cut through her like a knife. She found herself on her knees, her throat so raw she was afraid it was bleeding. She crawled through the darkness to her bedroom on her hands and knees with the vague idea she'd gather her clothes and leave.
She knew she was in shock, her body refusing to function, when she couldn't find the strength or desire to push herself from the floor and get to work. She crawled to the corner and wedged herself there, drew up her knees and wrapped both arms around them, rocking back and forth. And she wept.
The tears weren't silent at all--they were full body-wracking sobs--soul-wrenching, agonizing sobs. It hurt to cry. Her abused throat protested, swelling so that she had to cough between the choking cries. She couldn't stop once she'd started. She had twenty-one years worth of tears to cry and she shed them all.
*
ELI Perez slipped into the warehouse. The moment he pushed open the door he heard her. The screams dying away to be replaced by a woman crying. He couldn't even call it crying. He had never heard such anguished screams or such broken-hearted, soul-destroying sobbing. He had caused that. There was no doubt in his mind.
Swearing under his breath, he made his way unerringly through the warehouse to the bedroom. He had the eyes of a cat and could see easily in the dark. He moved quickly to the open side of the room.
His first glance took in the bed. The sheets and blankets had been ripped to pieces, shredded the way he'd shredded Catarina's heart. He swung around, carefully scanning the warehouse. She hadn't had time to rip those sheets and blankets, to tear the mattress to shreds. He'd been one step behind her and had heard her anguished screams and then the sobbing. She hadn't touched those blankets. That could only mean one thing. Rafe Cordeau had already found Catarina, and the problem that was Rafe Cordeau was much worse than any of them ever suspected.
He didn't spot her at first in the corner. She was hidden partially by the old dresser. She was so small pressed against the wall, in a little protective ball, it broke his heart. He'd done that to her. He knew he had. He swore again.
"Cat."
Her body jerked as if he'd struck her. He winced and crossed the distance separating them to crouch down in front of her.
"Cat. Baby. It isn't safe here. He's been here."
She didn't look up or acknowledge that she heard him. She stayed exactly where she was. He knew her now, knew she could maintain silence for long periods of time, and they didn't have a long time.
"He's a leopard. A shifter. Isn't he?" He wanted to shock her. Get some response from her--any kind of response.
Catarina lifted her head, and his heart stuttered. Her eyes were absolutely blank. Dead. Devoid of all warmth or feeling. "Go away, whoever you are."
"Eli, my name is Eli Perez," he said, giving her the truth. "You know I can't let you stay here," he added gently. "Look at your bed. He's been here. He's leopard, and that means he can follow your scent--but you already know that, don't you?"
"I knew he'd been here the moment I walked in," she admitted.
Her voice was strained and she kept clearing her throat. She'd done some damage screaming out her anguish. He wanted to pull her into his arms, but she had shrunk away from him, not moved toward him. He kept himself locked down, under control. He needed to handle the situation without emotion if he was going to get her the hell to safety. Clearly she was waiting for Rafe to find her. She wasn't going to run after all.
"I'll wait for him here. He'll come back for me. He always comes for me." She confirmed his suspicions, rubbing her chin on top of her knees. "He's probably out looking for you."
That much, Eli was certain, was the truth. If he'd been in Rafe's place, he would have been out looking for the man who slept in his woman's bed.
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"You have to come with me now, Cat," he reiterated.
"Go to hell."
She wasn't going to hear reason and honestly, he couldn't blame her, but he sure as hell wasn't going to leave her there. Sweet didn't work. Gentle didn't work. He reached out and snagged her hand, jerking her body toward his.
She exploded into action, driving toward him with her head. She planted the top of her skull hard in his gut, using the strength in her legs to knock the wind out of him as she took him down. Straddling him, she punched and she punched hard. Three wicked blows to his face. One to his jaw. She rolled off when he went to snag her wrists, and she kicked him as she rolled away, a hard heel to his thigh.
He caught her ankle and twisted, rolling her over to her stomach. He didn't want to hurt her, but she was wild, trying to lunge up. He pinned her down with his weight, caught one of her wrists and snapped cuffs around it.