God, this need for her had him so fucked up.

  With a sigh, he cut off the shower and toweled off. After he yanked on some fresh clothes and padded out of his bedroom, he didn’t feel any better. Everything inside him wanted her to be innocent, but he was afraid the truth would crush him. Still, sticking his head in the sand wasn’t his speed. Lives were at stake, and he couldn’t let emotions cloud him.

  Trees knew what he had to do, no matter how much it killed him.

  After flipping on the coffeepot, he headed to the garage while his brew dripped and retrieved Laila’s belongings, which he’d gathered from her beach bungalow. After planting in the kitchen, he yanked open the duffel he’d shoved everything into, prowling around for anything useful. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much except a phone he’d never seen her carry. Since it showed some wear and tear, it obviously wasn’t new. The case around it was black and gray and geometric. Definitely masculine. He flipped it over and found initials: VMR.

  Holy shit, was this Victor’s device? Why would Laila have it? Had she swiped the man’s phone…or had he given it to her in the hopes it wouldn’t fall into enemy hands?

  Somewhere along the way, she’d turned the device off, so he powered it up. To his shock, he got right in, no password required. What the fuck? A man in Victor’s line of work should definitely have the protection of a secure password—at a minimum.

  Quickly, Trees checked the device to ensure that every means of tracking was disabled. Wifi and cellular off. Ditto with location services. No roaming.

  Time to take this bitch apart.

  Before he could dive in, his own phone rang in his bedroom. He thought about ignoring it. There wasn’t anyone he wanted to talk to now.

  Except Laila. You need the truth from her.

  No, what he really needed was to get naked with her and avoid talking altogether, except with their bodies.

  That was a bad idea.

  Muttering a curse, Trees plucked the device off his bathroom counter, surprised to see Zy calling this late. “What’s up, buddy?”

  “Checking in on you. Kane told me you brought Laila by to visit her family.”

  “Yeah. She needed it.” There was a point to Zy’s call, and Trees just wanted to get to it. “What’s up?”

  “Not much. How’s it going with her?”

  “It’s going about like I expected. Everything with Laila is somewhere between a battle and a riddle. You?”

  “Good. Hallie started a swim class tonight. The whole thing was cute as hell, but it wore her out. She went down early, so Tessa and I are just hanging out.”

  Translation: they had the rest of the evening to themselves. “And you’re wasting your time with me?”

  “Well, I’m hoping we can make this chat quick.” Then Zy’s levity died. “Kane said you didn’t look like you were in a good place mentally. Want to tell me about it?”

  Kane’s snitching pissed Trees off, even if the guy had meant well. “I don’t know whether Laila is trying to protect me from Ramos or sell me down the river to save herself.”

  “I hate to give you your own tough love, but the advice you gave me when I wasn’t sure about Tessa was spot on. You’re going to have to probe her for answers—whether that’s with your words or your dick is up to you. But you have to get to the bottom of whatever she’s up to. Not only does EM need the info but I know you. The uncertainty is killing you.”

  Sometimes he hated the way Zy could read his mind. “Yeah.”

  “Can you do some of your Dom stuff on Laila and make her talk?”

  “I tried. Not happening, at least not now. I’m too far gone, and I need answers too bad. So I’m sitting here with Victor Ramos’s phone, trying to decide if I really want to open this can of worms.”

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  “Yeah.” He’d come to that conclusion, not only to see if it held any information about Laila’s allegiance but to discern Ramos’s whereabouts. The fucker was loose and dangerous.

  “Zy?” Trees heard Tessa call softly in the background. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t know you were on the phone.”

  “Be right there, baby,” his best friend replied.

  “Don’t worry about me, man. I’ll figure this out,” Trees assured. “Enjoy your evening with Tessa.”

  Zy let out a harsh breath. “With her dressed in lingerie like that, I definitely will. I don’t know what I did to deserve that woman, but I’m a lucky son of a bitch. Call me if you need me, okay?”

  “Sure.” But Trees wouldn’t. Zy had the love he deserved because he’d listened to his feelings and followed his heart. No matter what wrongdoing he’d suspected Tessa of, he’d led with his gut. And now he was living a happily ever after that made Trees envious as hell.

  Would he have the same outcome if he trusted his instincts, too? Or was Laila’s I love you just messing with his head?

  They ended the call, and Trees returned to the kitchen and dived back into Ramos’s phone. It took him less than three minutes to realize the asshole had done his best to mitigate the loss of the device. The emails had stopped delivering days ago. Half the social media accounts prompted him for new passwords, which he didn’t have. That was fine. It might take a few minutes, but he could hack in. Even without doing that, Trees would still be able to see everything Ramos had downloaded and saved to his cloud. At a glance, it looked like plenty—locations, past operations, future plans for taking over Montilla’s “throne.”

  Just like Laila had told him.

  If she’d been honest about Ramos’s scheme…maybe she’d been telling him the truth about everything.

  Trees wanted to roll with that theory so bad. But his feelings for Laila tangled his logic. If he had a little more evidence—anything to support this two-ton yearning dragging him under—he’d fuck the doubt, grab Laila in his arms, and never let go. But he couldn’t, not responsibly. It wasn’t just his life at stake. After Kimber’s kidnapping, he couldn’t discount the safety of the team and their loved ones, not to mention EM’s reputation. When it came to that woman, he wasn’t objective.

  But he knew someone who might be.

  Cursing, he set Ramos’s phone aside and reached for his own.

  Matt answered on the third ring. “Trees?”

  “Yeah. Sorry to bother you. How is everything out there?”

  “On your perimeter? Quiet. You can relax.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “What’s up?”

  “I need your two cents.”

  “Sure. About what? I’ll do my best.”

  Matt would. Trees didn’t know the other guy well, but he’d been solid while they’d traveled to Mexico. Hell, Matt had saved his damn life. “I’m calling to ask you about Laila. About what you saw and heard between her and Victor in La Pesca.”

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  He had to. If Laila had sacrificed herself for his safety, Trees needed to know. He also needed to know if she was lying to save her hide. “Yeah. What did you see? And hear? Where do you think she stands? Or I should say with whom?”

  Matt blew out a long breath. “When we first saw her, I was convinced she was playing you for Ramos’s benefit, but after the son of a bitch shot you, I had doubts.”

  Trees got that, but it didn’t tell him what he really wanted to know. “What do you think her feelings for Ramos are?”

  “Are you asking because you want to know what yours should be? Man, I can’t tell you how to feel about her.”

  “I’m not asking you to. I doubt I could stop loving her if I tried. I just don’t know if I can trust her.” Trees sighed, feeling suddenly exhausted. “Thing is, she gave me this elaborate story to explain her backstab. It fits…but I’m not sure I believe it. I need a more objective perspective.”

  “I’ll be honest, I’ve gone back and forth a couple of times because Laila’s choices don’t add up. On the surface, what she told you—that she’s always belonged to Victor and loves the rough sex they have—seems like the most obvious scenario. But if that’s the case…then a lot of her other behavior makes no sense. I mean, she was emotional when you said you wanted her for life. And she kissed you like you were her everything. But the instant you insisted on rescuing her from Ramos, she turned on you and claimed he was her man and all that shit. If that was true, why did she do everything short of tackle you to keep you hidden from him? And why did she misdirect Ramos and focus his attention away from you and onto Montilla?”

  “I’ve had similar thoughts.” Trees squeezed the phone. “What happened after Ramos shot me?”

  “And you fell on your head? Dude, Laila sobbed like her world was ending. Then she dropped to her knees and did her best to stem your bleeding.”

  Also just as Laila had claimed. “Anything else?”

  “In retrospect, I gotta give her credit. She begged me silently to help you without giving away my position. She never asked for any help for herself. And when the mechanic came after you with a blowtorch, she nearly lost her shit. But she couldn’t help you. She tried. I overheard her offering herself like a sacrifice to Ramos forever if he would get you medical attention.”

  Trees sucked in a shocked breath. “You don’t think it was a ploy?”

  “How would that have helped her cause?” Matt challenged. “In the end, it didn’t matter because, after Ramos dragged her away by her hair, he accused her of being in love with you. That’s when I began to wonder if I’d been looking at the situation all wrong.”

  Trees understood. He was definitely wondering that now, too.

  “But then she sent you that shitty video of them in bed, and…I started questioning everything again.”

  So Matt couldn’t shed any light. Then again, the guy was right. Matt couldn’t tell him how to feel about Laila. As much as Trees hated it, he was either going to have to take a leap of faith or cut her out of his heart…somehow.

  “Same, but thanks for your opinion,” he told Matt. “I owe you, and not just for saving my life.”

  “You’re welcome. The Edgingtons have offered me a full-time gig if I want it. I’m past due to return to Wyoming, but…”

  “You’re thinking about staying?”

  He hesitated. “There’s nothing for me back there.”

  No friends? No family? No women falling all over themselves to be with a hot, hunky cowboy type? “Here ain’t a bad place, man.”

  “Different than where I came from. What about you? Every so often, I hear the South in your voice, but it’s not like any accent from these parts.”

  “I’m from coal mining country in West Virginia. Here’s really different. But I like it. The bosses can be tough, but they expect results. They only hire the best. I hope you’ll think about it. We’ve been short-staffed, and it wouldn’t suck to have you around. I wouldn’t be alive if you weren’t.”

  “Thanks. I’m definitely thinking about it. And I hope you figure this thing out with Laila soon. And I’ll stay diligent out here, because Ramos probably knows you’re alive by now and he’s out for your blood.”

  Trees figured as much. But what about Laila? That was the million-dollar question, and he didn’t have an answer. Either she was keeping him occupied so her lover could sneak up on him and blow his brains out or she’d been telling the truth about her power play to use Ramos as a pawn to weaken Montilla, keep her family safe, and protect the bodyguard who had fallen for her.

  He plucked up Ramos’s phone again, turning it in his hands. Laila hadn’t had this device when he’d run into her in La Pesca. And if she’d had a phone of her own, why would she have stolen Ramos’s? For the information on it? Maybe. But the more likely scenario was that she hadn’t had one of her own and had needed a way to contact her sister. She’d done that through a gaming app, right? Why choose that method if she had her own phone and could simply call or text? And if she hadn’t been carrying a phone then, that probably meant she’d used Ramos’s to film their fucking.

  With shaking hands, Trees opened Ramos’s photos—and immediately hit pay dirt. The last thing saved was the video Laila had sent to convince him that she was Ramos’s willing whore.

  He pressed the button to launch it. Instantly, the screen filled with a familiar scene—the cheap motel room, the slightly yellowing sheets, the ugly brown and blue bedspread, not to mention a naked Laila. But the footage he was seeing? She hadn’t sent this to him when she’d emailed and told him to kiss off.

  In this version, Ramos wore his boxers and stumbled onto the bed drunkenly, holding a nearly empty bottle of tequila in one hand. Some sloshed on her neck and shoulder. He laughed, pouncing toward her, the view wobbling as he flattened her against the mattress. “What’s with the camera, chiquita?”

  As he leered toward her neck, Laila called to him, her voice sultry. “I am going to film us, like you used to.”

  Ramos lifted his head with a loopy, smug leer. “I recorded hours and hours of you screaming for me. I watched them often for my pleasure.” He sucked in a hissing breath. “Your fear makes me hard.”

  “I know,” she breathed like she was entranced, like she wanted his degradation and pain.

  Trees wanted to hurl.

  “Hold the phone out. Make sure you capture all the ways I’m going to fuck you.”

  Instantly, she complied, positioning the camera arm’s length from them, pulling the sheet up to their waists, covering the fact that Ramos was dry humping her thigh.

  Then she suddenly smiled for the camera, looking heavy lidded and aroused. Her expression sent an electric ping of recognition through Trees. It was the same come-hither glance he’d seen in the first frame of the video she’d sent.

  Screw upchucking the contents of his stomach. He wanted to hurl this phone across the room, beat the ever-loving fuck out of Ramos, then lay into Laila for lying to him yet again. Then he apparently needed to beat his own ass for believing her.

  “Chiquita,” he growled. “I want that pussy.”

  “It is here for you. Like I am.” She rolled her head to one side, eyes closed in ecstasy, offering Ramos her neck.

  “Hmm…yes.” He bounced on top of her like they were fucking. “Good little puta.”

  Trees froze the video, took it back a few seconds, and replayed the frames. But he hadn’t missed anything. The first time he’d watched this footage, he’d been convinced Ramos and Laila were having dirty, raunchy, very consensual sex. But clearly Ramos was still wearing his boxers and treating her thigh like his bitch.

  “Damn it,” Trees muttered.

  Laila had intentionally led him to believe she and Ramos were fucking.

  Because she was trying to convince you not to come to her rescue? Because she wanted to protect you?

  He wasn’t sure, so he continued the torment of watching.

  On the video, Laila moaned in answer. “For you? Always.”

  Victor gave her hair a vicious tug and sank his teeth into her shoulder hard like she was a piece of prime meat he intended to chew up and swallow down.

  Laila cried out. “Yes!”

  “Mine.”

  Laila gave another heavy-lidded glance toward the camera. “Yours.”

  That’s where the video she’d sent him ended. But it wasn’t ending now. There was almost a minute more.

  Starting with Laila groping around on the mattress for Ramos’s empty tequila bottle. She lifted it and bonked him over the head.

  Trees reared back. He hadn’t seen that coming. Why would Laila try to knock him out if she wanted him to fuck her?

  In response, Ramos stiffened, lifted his head, and glared at her, his narrowed stare suddenly vowing retribution.

  With a gasp, Laila dropped the phone. All Trees could see was the peeling, water-stained ceiling, but he could hear plenty, starting with the sound of her choking.

  “You want to play rough, bitch?” Ramos growled.

  The sounds of Laila fighting him, grunting and struggling, her screams suppressed by what Trees suspected were the asshole’s hands around her throat made him beyond furious. She didn’t actually enjoy scum like Ramos damn near choking the life out of her, right?

  Seconds later, he heard what sounded like the bottle against someone’s skull again. Then Laila coughed and gasped, audibly dragging air into her starved lungs.

  “Cabrón.” Had that noise been her spitting on Ramos? “I hate you. You will never touch me again. Never!”

  Her words rang like a solemn promise.

  Suddenly, Laila grabbed the phone, looking shaken and angry. The device wobbled in her hands before he got a flash of Ramos unmoving, face down across the mattress, with his pale backside in the air and his boxers haphazardly halfway to his knees.

  The video ended there.

  Holy. Motherfucking. Shit.

  Trees sat back, his thoughts racing. But they all circled back to one conclusion: Laila had been telling the truth in the dungeon. She had altered the clip she’d emailed him to convince him she was Ramos’s willing lover. So he wouldn’t try to save her while he was injured.

  He was done questioning her and her loyalties because every betrayal he’d believed had clearly been a lie. She really had been trying to protect him.

  And what had he done in return? Accused her of deceit, denied her at least half a dozen orgasms, then left her all alone, aroused and shaking.

  Fuck.

  Now what?

  Trees stood and scrubbed a hand down his face. He wasn’t exactly sure what he was going to say, but he needed to see Laila right now.

  The hissing of the dungeon door’s seal decompressing brought Laila’s head snapping around. She gathered the blanket tighter around her naked body with one hand and wiped the tears from her eyes with the other. Trees had made his feelings clear. He no longer wanted her. He cared for her now only as the body he had been paid to guard. She had hurt him too much, and she understood. Since she had never once had anything remotely like a boyfriend, what did she know of relationships? Of course she had screwed everything up.

  Now she had to face his repudiation. He would separate them in all ways except proximity.