Finally, they reached the water and plowed into it, sending up a big splash that doused the windshield. Water poured in through the window Victor neglected to close, and he let out another frustrated curse. The gun between them bounced and slid across the seat. She grabbed it.

  He ripped it from her hand. “Don’t get smart. Sit there and don’t move until we lose them.”

  She would do what he said—until she figured out how to either gain the upper hand or slit his throat.

  Beside them the water rose along the sides of the truck, first covering the rims, then the tires, before the tide inched up the doors. Would they be swimming to the shore and abandoning the fifty-million-dollar car—while dodging Montilla’s bullets? The engine made noises that weren’t encouraging, and the tires wheezed and spun in the silt.

  If circumstances forced them to give up the Ferrari and swim, Victor’s punishment would be swift and severe.

  Panicked, Laila started looking for other ways out of this mess when she realized two things. First, as they inched forward, the water level was beginning to recede. Second, the sedan remained impotently on the other side of the river, its profile too low to travel across. Thankfully, she saw no bridge in sight.

  Finally, they made it onto the shore, plodded down a dirt path littered with vegetation, then finally found the remnants of an old road.

  They were free—for now.

  “That was too fucking close.” Victor swiped at his sweating forehead.

  Laila seized the opportunity. “I told you Montilla’s men were in town.”

  “But you lied to me about your feelings.”

  “I simply do not want anyone’s death on my hands.” She tried to shrug him off. “Besides, you have never cared about them before. And you lied to me about yours as well.”

  “What do you mean?” he snapped, rattling the truck forward.

  He was still obsessed with her, and it would be stupid to remind him that he’d been dishonest about that. “You said you had everything under control and that no one in your hometown would betray you. Someone obviously did.”

  “Gustavo warned me that his father had been acting oddly all afternoon. For that, I will have him killed.”

  His cavalier attitude about life and death shouldn’t horrify her anymore, but it did. “Gustavo or his father?”

  “Both. Neither are of use to me anymore. Now shut up. I need to think.”

  Laila said nothing for hours, not as they wandered into another town, finally met Miguel with another truck, transferred the car, then made their way to another village, where he found a cheap motel room. From the glove box, he produced a zip tie. Then he grabbed his gun and skipped dinner, buying a bottle of tequila instead.

  Now that the adrenaline rush and chaos were over, all she could think about was Trees. Was there any chance Matt or a bystander had helped him? Or had they all simply let him be tortured by Gustavo’s blowtorch while he bled out and died?

  How would she ever know? Maybe she didn’t want the terrible details. The thought of him being tortured and killed filled her with an empty, aching hole. Laila didn’t know how she would ever plug up that horrible well of grief.

  Inside the roach-infested motel, Victor zip-tied one of her wrists to the headboard attached to the wall. Then he flipped on the TV. “Something for you to watch while I take a shower. Then you’ll take yours.” He looked her up and down. “And lose those clothes.”

  “I have nothing else to wear.”

  His sly smile said that was completely on purpose. “Oh, well.”

  She shuddered as he disappeared into the bathroom. Then she saw his phone on the nearby table. It was a stretch, but she could reach it.

  Laila scraped half the skin off her hand getting to Victor’s phone, but she managed. Thankfully, she’d made a mental note of his passcode during their getaway. Though she knew her sister’s number by heart, Laila didn’t dare call her. Victor would know. And he would have a direct line to reach her. It was too dangerous. Instead, she reached out in the same way she had once used to escape Emilo’s compound.

  She launched the game Valeria loved to play and found the connect feature. Fingers shaking and tears streaming, she typed out a message.

  Hermana, I am with Victor in a motel in Mexico, south of La Pesca, inland from the coast. He killed Trees. Tell EM Security I am sorry. I will touch base again when I can. Know I am trying to escape. Do not worry about me. Protect yourself and Jorge. I love you.

  She hit send and stared at the message string. It was foolish to hope Valeria would answer now. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next week. Her sister didn’t play this game every day, and it was late.

  To her shock, a bubble with three dots inside appeared next to her sister’s screen name. Laila swiped at her tears, her heart racing as she waited.

  The water cut off in the shower. Victor stepped out of the enclosure.

  Type faster, she silently demanded of her sister.

  She had maybe a minute—no more—before he emerged from the bathroom. She needed this message almost more than she needed to breathe. She would mourn Trees for the rest of her life. Avenge him, of course. As soon as she could put a bullet in Victor and get out of the country safely, she would. But right now she needed to know that her family was safe.

  I am so relieved you are alive, but I will not let you suffer Victor again. When you pinpoint your location, tell me. I will get word to Trees. He did not die. He is still in Mexico, planning to rescue you tonight.

  Laila’s eyes nearly popped from her head. Trees was alive? Shock pinged through her veins and her mouth gaped. How was that possible? Who had helped him? It didn’t matter; he was alive!

  New tears—happy ones—trembled on her lashes. But reason tempered her thrill. Trees must be injured; he had nearly been killed. He shouldn’t try to save her now. She couldn’t let him. The last time had nearly been his death. This time, Victor would leave nothing to chance.

  She had to stop Trees.

  Victor jiggled the handle of the doorknob. She wished she had time to reread her sister’s message—had she truly read it right?—but the door squeaked as he opened it.

  Biting back a gasp, she closed the app, darkened the phone, then settled the device on the table. She nudged it just beyond her reach, hoping that would allay Victor’s suspicions.

  As she sat on the bed again, he emerged around the corner, looking between her and his phone with narrowed eyes. “What are you up to?”

  “Nothing.” She fidgeted. “Trying to get comfortable.”

  As if the notion of her well-being bored him, he shrugged and produced a blade. She flinched as her fear spiked, but he merely cut the zip tie and gestured her toward the bathroom. “Shower now. Then you can get comfortable—on your back with your legs spread. I want that pussy.”

  Since he had the upper hand—for now—Laila nodded meekly as he opened his bottle of tequila and sat on the bed, watching her with a leer. Best not to infuriate him. It was more important to live another day so she could get revenge and escape.

  After she ensured Trees didn’t risk his life for her again.

  In the bathroom, she peeled off her clothes and climbed into the minuscule cubicle. No wonder Victor hadn’t demanded sex here. In this tiny space, violating her would be virtually impossible. But he wouldn’t deny his pleasure for long. Laila didn’t think she could endure his touch. She could barely stand the sight of him, the smell of him. Even the idea of him made her stomach turn.

  She’d have to deal with that, too. Keeping Trees from risking himself to rescue her came first. Since she couldn’t call him or contact him through the gaming app, she had to get clever. But even if she could warn him, what were the chances he would heed her?

  I will never leave you. I will never stop coming for you.

  He meant that. He’d already traveled all the way from Louisiana to rescue her. Why would he stop when he was less than two hours away, especially after Matt had likely told him that Victor had dragged her from him against her will?

  Laila sighed. How could she persuade a man determined to save her, who thought he was in love with her, from putting himself in harm’s way again?

  She couldn’t…unless she gave him a reason not to love her anymore.

  As she rinsed the blood and grime from her body, Laila turned over ideas in her head. Nothing came to her…until something terrible did.

  No. She couldn’t. There must be some other way that wouldn’t put Trees through hell.

  Like what?

  She had nothing else, and time was running out. This idea… Dios, could she actually find the fortitude to go through with it? Then again, what choice did she have? This was her last resort. The worst part was, after she risked everything to save Trees, he would never speak to her again.

  Laila clutched the wall and bowed her head, sobs wracking her as if someone had opened her chest and all the emotions she’d tried so hard to hide were spilling out. She gave herself over to the gaping wound of sorrow and mourned—for the breaking of her heart, for the happiness she and Trees would never share, for the damage she would do to the only man who had ever been good and kind to her. For knowing that he would soon look at her with hate.

  Everything she had ever wanted or treasured slipped through her fingers. First, her freedom. Then, her mother. And now Trees. God, would she ever stop losing?

  Laila dragged in a ragged breath and forced herself to stop wallowing in self-pity. Trees was more important than heartbreak. More important than pain and humiliation. Even more important than her own existence. No matter how much this plan devastated them both, she consoled herself with the knowledge that at least he would be alive to turn his back on her.

  Finally, she dried her tears. Then she forced herself to stop crying and accept what had to be done. Besides, she couldn’t go to Victor with puffy eyes and a red nose. He would be able to sniff out her scheme. As always, tears were a luxury she could not afford.

  Her first priority was to ensure Victor consumed too much tequila and focused on sex. She would handle the rest.

  “Buddy, you’ve got to lie down.” Matt pushed him back to the makeshift bed in the doctor’s back room.

  Trees resisted, trying to vault to his feet. “Like hell. Laila is out there, under Victor’s thumb, and I—”

  “Love her. And you’re worried about her. I know.” Matt shoved him back to the mattress, as if the guy knew he got dizzy and queasy every time he stood. “But you can’t help her if you don’t heal first.”

  Trees cursed the limits of his body. “I also can’t help her if Victor kills her.”

  “Given what I saw, he’s not going to.”

  Trees hoped not, but the asshole sure could make Laila wish he had. That’s what worried him most. “How much fucking longer am I going to feel like shit?”

  “I’m not a doctor and my Spanish sucks, but I’m pretty sure he said twenty-four hours. It’s been more like six. You’ll have to at least wait until morning.”

  No. Fuck no. According to Matt, Victor had dragged her away from his prone form by her hair, and Trees could only imagine all the awful things that monster could do to her overnight. “It can’t. Get that quack back here and make him give me something for this fucking headache so I can go and—”

  “You have a concussion. You need to rest. If I get the ‘quack’ back here, it will be to give you a sedative so your body has time to heal. Jesus…” He sighed, sliding the cowboy hat back on his head.

  Trees wanted to bat the Stetson off and punch the bastard, but Matt had saved his life. And he probably wasn’t wrong. Still… “I’m losing my fucking mind worrying about her.”

  “I know you think she’s a tiny thing who’s no match for Victor. But she made it six years with him. If he wanted her dead, she’d be dead.”

  “Is it supposed to be better that he just wants to rape her?”

  “No. There’s no good answer right now. But if you run to her rescue when you’re not up to the fight, then Victor will kill you…and she might be under his thumb forever.”

  Trees tried to stifle his frustration. He heard Matt’s logic. He didn’t even disagree. Well, he wouldn’t if he wasn’t so fucking worried about Laila. Goddamn it. “Has anyone heard anything from her?”

  “Let me check in.”

  Matt disappeared down the hall with his phone, leaving Trees to pant against his pillow, feeling clammy and weak. He stared at the yellowing industrial ceiling, lamenting that the stitches in his ribs where the bullet had grazed him and the others at his crown where he’d fallen back on his head itched like hell. At least Matt had shot the son of a bitch coming at him with a blowtorch between the eyes, then dragged him to safety. Trees was grateful for that. He’d just be a helluva lot less agitated if he was already on the road finding Laila.

  As much as he wanted to hop to his feet and track her down, he couldn’t even take a shower right now without his head throbbing and his stomach pitching.

  Unfortunately, lying here for hours gave him nothing better to do than imagine all the ways she was suffering.

  Matt returned a few minutes later, clutching his phone. “Good news. Laila reached out to Valeria via a gaming app.”

  She must have gotten her hands on Victor’s phone. Laila might be a little thing, but she was crafty. She was a survivor. Hope buoyed him. “And?”

  “She’s in one piece.”

  “Does Valeria know where she is?” If it wasn’t too far, maybe he could muster the energy to jump in their rental and take off after her. After all, if he played this right, his gun would do most of the job. It wasn’t as if the world, especially Laila, would miss Victor.

  “No.”

  And there went his fucking hope.

  “Even Laila doesn’t know where she is, except in a motel southwest of La Pesca.” Matt shrugged. “Sorry.”

  At least he had a clue to start with. Trees grabbed his phone and launched his map app.

  Matt yanked the device from his hands. “No electronics for now, remember?”

  It took most of his strength, but Trees lurched up and snatched it back. “This is fucking imperative. Life-or-death shit. My head will recover. I don’t know if the same can be said of Laila if we don’t go after her.”

  “I’ll look for you.” He pinched and flared his fingers along the screen, scrolling up, then down, before finally settling on an area. “There are a few villages she could be in. I’d have to do more research to narrow it down. That will take time.”

  “Hurry. A lot of those villages will be so small they won’t even have a motel, so we can rule them out.”

  “Sure. I’ll have something by morning. What do you want to eat?”

  “Fuck food. And fuck you. Let’s figure out where she is. I have the rest of my life to eat.”

  “You have to fill your tank.”

  Trees huffed because Matt clearly wasn’t listening. “I won’t care if I don’t find her soon.”

  The other guy sighed and plucked off his cowboy hat. “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn motherfucker?”

  “Zy mentions that all the time.” His mother used to tell him that, too. Said he was a lot like his father. Once, that had made him smile.

  Trees shoved the thought away. He couldn’t afford this stroll down memory lane while Laila hung in the balance.

  “I’m not shocked. I’ll get on this and find some food. You’re not going to get far in your rescue attempt if you don’t eat.”

  If wolfing down a sandwich would make Matt finally shut the fuck up? “Fine.”

  “Good.” Matt’s phone dinged and he glanced down at the device. “Valeria just heard from Laila again. She asked for your email address. Why would she want that?”

  Trees wasn’t sure. Maybe she’d found a way to send him a map of her location or her surroundings… Whatever it was, he’d take any help finding her.

  “Give her this address.” He rattled off one that downloaded to his phone. Whatever she sent, he needed to see it as soon as possible.

  “Roger that.” He texted the address. “Let’s focus on food until we hear something.”

  The audible swoop told Trees the information was on its first leg to reaching Laila. Anticipation gripped him.

  An hour passed. Then two. Food came and went. They focused their conversation on the villages southwest of La Pesca. There weren’t many, and even fewer with lodgings. They were discussing the merits of two different ones when Matt sighed and stood from the nearby desk. “How do we know any of this is right? It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.”

  Matt wasn’t wrong, but… “I’m not giving up.”

  “You’ve made that clear, buddy.” Matt sounded exhausted.

  Yes, the guy had saved his life, but Trees couldn’t let up or stop now. “Ever been in love?”

  “You going to give me the speech about how, if I’d ever really given my whole heart to a woman, I would understand why you’re so desperate and determined to go after her now, health be damned?”

  Trees refused to let the sharp comeback dissuade him. “Yep. Because if you ever had been in love, you’d know all that shit is true.”

  “Sure, but I also know if you were being rational, you’d understand that jumping in half-cocked to save her would be suicide.”

  They were at another impasse, and the problem was, neither of them were wrong.

  “Look, why don’t you try again to shower? Maybe that will make you feel better.” Matt peeked out the window at the nearly black sky. “Because I doubt we’re finding Laila tonight.”

  Trees checked his emails again. Nothing. The silence made him antsy. He knew damn well her opportunities to get her hands on Victor’s phone would be few and far between. Hell, it was getting late, and she might already be asleep.

  And she might also be suffering. Or dead, the seditious voice in his head warned.

  As much as he fucking hated it, as much as it fucking chafed, he doubted he was getting any resolution tonight. It would be smarter to clean up and grab a few hours of sleep, then start his search again. But he wasn’t leaving this fucking country without her.