Sweet Collateral

His lips press into my hair. “It will settle down.”

“Will it?” Will we always be like this? Looking over our shoulder, wondering who is going to come at us next.

“This is the cartel, little warrior. It’s built on a foundation of cocaine and bloodshed. That’ll never change because men always want more power, more money, more corruption. It is the nature of men such as us.”

I pull away from him, meeting his eyes. “What about you? Do you want more power and money?”

A smirk plays over his lips. “I don’t need more power or money.”

“I didn’t ask if you needed it.”

His fingers tighten in my hair until he’s pulled my head back, imprisoning me. His lips whisper over mine without ever making full contact. “I have everything I want, right here.”

“So then let them have whatever it is they want. Let them have more territory, more money.”

He kisses me gently. “Ah, avecita. So wise and yet naive in so many ways. If I give them a single grain of sand from my territory, they will think I am weak and they will take everything.”

Part of me wants to beg him to just walk away, to leave all of this behind, but Rafael is a cartel boss. It’s part of who he is, and I love him for it. But I know he’s in danger. I close my eyes and inhale a deep breath, trying to will the panic away. This is new for me. I’ve always had to worry for myself, but it’s different when it’s someone else. Looking after yourself is easy because you can control your own actions, even if you can’t control what happens to you. I can’t control what Rafael does, and that terrifies me.

“Hey.” He tugs on my hair, forcing my head back until my gaze crashes into his. “Don’t worry about it.”

I roll my eyes. “Really, Rafe?”

“I’m Rafael D’Cruze, baby.”

“God, you’re impossible.” On a smile, he kisses me hard and slaps my ass. “Go, get ready. We leave in fifteen minutes.”

48

Rafael

The tires bump over the rough desert road—sand and gravel kicking up and pinging off the paintwork of the car. The air conditioner blows icy cold air over my exposed skin, contrasting with the heat of the sun pouring through the window.

Anna sits beside me on the back seat, her hands folded in her lap. She’s right there, and yet a thousand miles away. It’s been two days since she cut herself. Two days since I nearly lost her. And two days since she returned to me. And yet sometimes I notice her slip away for a few moments. I should have a little more patience, but that invisible bubble she seems to force around herself at times, bothers me.

Whatever happened in Russia has fundamentally changed her. She’s different…and yet the same. She still holds that innocence—that inherent goodness that draws me to her as if she were the sun itself, but something has shifted. Her spirit is just a little more broken than it was before, and that may be the hardest thing to bear. After nine years of slavery, she managed to stand strong. I watched her become a little less jaded, a little more trusting, bit-by-bit. Day-by-day. And yet, in the two months she was taken from me, and the month following, she’s lost that infinite shine. My mind is filled with vile images, possibilities of all the things they could have done to try and break my little warrior.

I glance at her, her gaze fixed out the open window as we pass endless miles of desert. The sunlight dances over her pale skin, and she closes her eyes, absorbing it. Taking her hand, I thread my fingers through hers compulsively. It’s not a want, so much as a need to touch her, to know that she’s here and safe—with me. She rolls her head to the side, resting her cheek against the back of the seat as she looks at me. And there it is, a sadness that clings to her in a way it never did before.

I brush my lips over her knuckles. “Talk to me, avecita.”

“About what?”

About what. Do I want her to tell me everything that happened? Do I really want those details? “That look in your eye. I’ve seen you down and scared, little warrior, but never so defeated.” I inhale a sharp breath. "If you need to…tell me…about what happened, you can.”

“Nothing that hasn’t happened before. Once a whore—“

“Don’t.”

“Rafe, you may not see me as a whore, but everyone else does.”

“No one else matters.”

“No. They don’t.” She’s silent for a moment. “It’s not that though.”

“Then what?”

“I can comprehend the acts of cruel men. It’s all I’ve known. But Una was always this…hero to me. When we were children, she protected me, sheltered me, from everything. Our parents’ death, the orphanage, starvation…” A small smile touches her lips. “For years, through the worst abuse, I survived because I dreamed of a day when she would rescue me from it all. It was a child’s fairytale of course. I didn’t even know if she was alive or dead. Years passed and hope faded, and I stopped dreaming of my long-lost sister and accepted what my life was. But then Nero bought me, and I came to you.” Her fingers tighten around mine. “And I found out she was alive and had gone to all these lengths to find me. It felt like the fairytale had come to life, and I had hope, Rafe. When I saw her in that cell, I thought she had come to save me.” She shakes her head, a humorless laugh slipping through her lips. “I guess nine years of slavery couldn’t do to me what she did in a single minute; break my heart.”