1
CAMILE
I thoughtwe could start our date all over again…
Ledger’s words ring in my ears as the man himself circles the wooden chair I’m tied to. I scream against the disgusting gag that’s been shoved into my mouth, and my eyes flood with tears.
No, no, no.How is this happening? I thought—no, I’dhoped—Ledger had been gone for good, but here he is, right in front of me. I stare into his blue eyes, fringed with dark lashes, terrified about what his words mean.
Who are the other two men in the room, and what links do they have with Ledger? How the fuck did they get onto the compound? I’d been certain the place was locked down tight, but clearly it wasn’t as well guarded as either myself or Jack thought. Not if men can so easily breach the security and carry me away in the night.
“You don’t seem pleased to see me, Camile,” Ledger says with a smirk. “You don’t want to hurt my feelings, now, do you? Not after last time.”
He lifts the flashlight again, deliberately shining itdirectly into my eyes so I’m forced to squeeze them shut. I twist my face away, trying to hide against my shoulder. My joints are aching from being tied in the same position for so long, and my hands are numb. I’m only in the thin sleep shorts and camisole set I’d worn to bed, and my feet are bare.
He reaches out and tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I jerk my face away again, but there isn’t much I can do to stop him.
“I wish I’d been able to tell you what was happening with your family that night. It would have brought you down a peg or two. You think you’re so fucking special, don’t you? Camile Montez, the cartel princess, so pure and untouched. I saw the way you turned your nose up when you realized we were getting a burger and not going to some fancy restaurant. What a fucking spoiled little bitch you are. Well, that stops now.”
He trails a finger down the side of my cheek, tracing the line of my throat to my collarbone, and then lower to cup my breast over the top of my camisole. I regret wearing it to bed and wish I had something more substantial on. To my dismay, my nipple puckers and tightens, and he rolls his thumb over it and lets out a grunt of appreciation.
His touch horrifies me.
I scream against the rag and yank away from him, dislodging his hand. I pull at my bonds and rock back and forth, trying to loosen myself from the chair. I feel it going before it does, the chair legs losing contact with the floor. I do my best to right it again before it hits the ground, but gravity wins and I slam down hard onto my side. My left arm takes the brunt of the impact, but I also hit my hip, knee, and ankle, and the side of my head. Painblooms white-hot, and I squeeze my eyes shut, willing it to subside.
I let out a groan against the rag, wondering just how the hell I managed to make this situation even worse for myself.
Am I being punished? Some kind of divine retribution for no longer being the good girl? After all, I’ve had sex with both Ace and Rook. I’d then planned to leave them without a word to go and find my family, despite all the warnings from Jack about how dangerous that would be. Seems it didn’t even matter.
Danger caught up with me anyway.
My shoulders shake with my sobs. My tears mean my nose is blocking up, and a fresh hit of panic punches through me as I struggle to breathe. I need to calm down and stop crying, but I feel so utterly hopeless and lost. It’s as if everything has been torn from me—my family, my place at the college, and the tentative new home I’d been forming with the bikers.
Ledger must see that I’m struggling for air, as he leans over and unties the material around the back of my head and pulls the gag from my mouth. The dirty rag clings to my dry tongue and the corners of my lips, like it doesn’t want to let go, but then finally it’s gone. I gasp, taking lungfuls of sweet oxygen, tears dripping over my nose and running down the side of my face.
If I had hoped for gentleness, I don’t get any. Ledger just stands there and laughs.
“Now, now,” he says. “Wouldn’t want you to die on me.”
I regain enough breath to speak. “You already tried to kill me,” I spit at him. “You fucking shot at me.”
“Oh, silly girl,” he mocks. “If I wanted you dead, you’dbe dead. Did you really think I was that bad a shot? I was just trying to scare you. To get you to stop running.”
At the time, I remember thinking he was a terrible shot. But it seems from what he’s saying that wasn’t the case. If he’d wanted me dead, I would be, which makes more sense. After all, I’d wondered how he’d get away with murdering me when everyone back at the college knew I’d gone on a date with him. Yes, he could have claimed I’d run off into the woods, maybe fallen off the side of a cliff or something, but all eyes would have been on him. Serious questions would have been asked.
Unless he hadn’t cared about those questions. Unless he’d figured he’d have been long gone before anyone noticed me missing.
Something else strikes me. His voice sounds different—he’s speaking English, but the rhythm is familiar, the soft rolling ‘r’ like my own. The American accent he’d spoken with prior to now has vanished, and I realize he must have been putting it on.
“Who are you, really?” I ask.
“My name isn’t Ledger Marks. It’s Ledger Sanchez.”
A squeak of shock escapes me as ice pours through my veins. “No!”
He gives a slow smile, flashing his perfect white teeth like a predator. “Why would I lie about that?”
This can’t be happening. I’d kissed him—ugh. I stare at him as hatred burns in my gut, searing through the chill that had settled there and giving me new determination that I won’t go down without a fight. Sanchez is the name of the cartel who murdered my father and sent my mother and brother into hiding. Although it’s a common name in Mexico, it can’t be a coincidence.
