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“No, leave us alone!”Lourdes shouted in the dream.Jacobo stalked toward her as she clutched her baby girl to her chest.Her son whined and clung to her leg with his trembling little hands.“You can’t have my babies.”She turned and kissed her son before giving him his sister.“Be brave.Hide,” she told the boy, and he ran to the corner of the room, holding the girl as best he could.
She flipped back around to face the monster, a knife suddenly in her hand.But Jacobo no longer stood before her.Diego did.He seethed like a demon straight out of Hell, his chest rising and falling in fevered madness.His nostrils flared as though fiery brimstone would shoot out and roast her alive.His twisted snarl and balled-up hands promised pain.Humiliation.Punishment.He would kill her.Kill her children.Kill Enrique.
Enrique?Where was he?She gripped the black-handled knife so hard her fingers ached.The hilt with its onyx inlay.Enrique’s knife.El Tajador.He was in her heart, her memories, directing her hand.Protecting her.Loving her.Then she saw him.Far past Diego’s shoulder, Enrique stood with a young boy in his arms.A strange blur obscured the child’s face, yet she knew him.Her adopted son, ten years old.The same age as Enrique when he was orphaned.Her family.
She turned back to her babies.Her sad little boy faded into nothingness, taking his sister with him.A sob ripped from her throat.No, they couldn’t be gone!Not again.
She faced Diego and attacked.
“Lourdes, I have you.Calm down.”
Two iron bands confined her as she thrashed out and slashed with her knife.
Kill, kill, kill.The mantra played on repeat in her head.She landed a hard uppercut to Diego’s chin and elbowed him in the stomach.
“Oomph,” the man gasped, then chuckled.“Damn, you hit like a pro.”
The laughter cut through the fog in her mind.Enrique?She jolted awake, already sitting upright, chest heaving, and met his deep-set gaze in the darkened room.Their bedroom.Apartment.Her new home.The moonlight streaming in from between the open blinds cast beams of silver across the bedding and sharpened the edges of her husband’s face.
“I-I’m sorry,” she stuttered and tucked the sheet under her arms to hide her bare breasts.A chill clung to her skin and raised goosebumps.She stared at her hands.Clean.Spotless.It was all a dream.“I could’ve killed you.”
Enrique tapped her chin.“It would take more than a punch or two to kill me, princess.”
The lazy smile curling his lips heated her cheeks.“No, I mean...I don’t know what I mean.In my dream, Jacobo stole my babies.Then Diego came.He wanted to kill our son, a little boy we found living on the street.I attacked him with your knife.I sliced.Stabbed.Got my hands red.I could feel his blood on my skin.It was so oily.So real.I wanted to kill him.”A shudder rolled through her.“I want Diego Zayas dead.”
Enrique sobered, blinking hard.“Give me time.I will do it.”
“I want a life with you.A family.But there’s so much anger and pain inside me.”She pursed her lips, struggling to find her words.“When I saw Officer Sanchez strung up, I kept thinking about how dangerous he was to us.That if he survived and testified against you in court, I could lose you forever.I didn’t want the man dead.I didn’t want his family to suffer his loss.But the alternative?No, absolutely not.I will not suffer losing you.”She thumped her fist on her chest.“I don’t know how to get rid of all this pain.”
“That’s why I’m here.Talk to me.Tell me everything.”
“Everything?”She coughed behind her hand and cleared her constricting throat.Her new watch glinted in the sharp light, the band stark against her skin.“What if I’m cuddling with our child and fall asleep, and I have a nightmare?I could hurt him.Kill him.”
“No, you will never lose control like that.”Enrique grasped her hands with his much larger ones.“You will never hurt our children, accidentally or not.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Because I know you.”He reclined back in bed and opened his arms.Once she cuddled into his warm embrace, he stroked his hand over her messy hair.“You’re a strong woman, Lourdes.You proved that at the Warehouse and when you disobeyed your father to follow your heart.Hell, every breath you take proves it.A weaker person would’ve given up with all the heartache you’ve endured.Trust in yourself.”
She kissed the tattooed swirl on his pec.“I’ll try to make you proud.”
“You already have.”
How she wanted to believe him.After years’ worth of insults, slaps, and shame, how would she ever overcome the pain?The degradation?The sense of not being good enough?
Somehow, she had to.
Or the future she could have with Enrique was already forfeit.
