“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.

  “I’ll try.”

  “Good call.” Matt gave him a hand.

  With a groan and another wave of dizziness, Trees lurched to his feet. He took a deep breath to fight the nausea and headed to the little bathroom, clutching the wall along the way. Fuck, he still felt clammy and weak, but it wasn’t as bad. He’d take the small victory.

  It took more time and energy to strip than it should. He had to sit to remove everything but his pants. But he finally got naked and stepped under the spray, hissing when the warm water beat down on his stitches. All he could find was a bar of antiseptic soap, but he used it all over, sagging against the wall when his head swam. It sucked to admit that Matt had been right, but if he’d gone out to save Laila like this, he probably would have been more of a hindrance than a help.

  Praying like hell that she survived the night and that she forgave him for the delay, he vowed to rescue her come morning. And if Victor had harmed her in any way—hell, if he’d so much as made her cry—he was going to kill the son of a bitch. And not merely with a simple bullet or two. Yeah, he might be the tech guy of the team, but he and Zy had gone through some really shitty black ops training. They’d endured stuff that had killed lesser men in the same program. They’d learned things that would make the average psyche—and stomach—curdle. Despite everything he’d seen and the war zones he’d fought in, he’d never once considered unleashing any of that knowledge on an enemy combatant.

  Trees would one hundred percent make an exception for Victor.

  When he was finally clean, he sighed in exhaustion and stepped out of the stall, groping for a towel with his eyes closed. Halfheartedly, he dried off. After the room, along with his stomach, stopped spinning, he wrapped the towel around himself. A glance at the nearby basin proved Matt had settled his clean clothes and his toothbrush nearby.

  So, Walker’s bestie actually wasn’t a flaming asshole like his pal.

  Okay, he was probably being harsh to his teammate. One-Mile had been a lot more pleasant since his engagement to Brea Bell. Normally he’d think it was because the guy was getting regular pussy, which took the snarl out of most beasts. But he’d met the sniper’s fiancée. He’d rarely met a sweeter girl, so he kind of hoped that Brea simply balanced Walker. And their wedding was just around the corner. Good for them. And hey, if someone as bad-tempered as One-Mile could find a woman to love him, Trees figured there was hope for him, too.

  Which brought him right back to Laila. He’d threatened to marry her once. She hadn’t believed him, but he’d been dead fucking serious. He would marry her tomorrow—if she’d say yes. And when he found her again, he would ask. Not in challenge. Not in sarcasm. For real, with roses and a ring and a promise to honor and protect her for the rest of his life.

  As soon as he found her, saved her, and brought her home.

  When he opened the bathroom door, a plume of steam billowed out. He felt a hundred fucking years old by the time he made it back to the cot. It didn’t help that he was nearly a foot too tall for the damn thing.

  Matt stood. There was something on his face Trees didn’t like.

  “What is it?”

  “You okay?”

  When Matt answered a question with a question, it was obvious the guy was stalling. “Fine. What’s going on?”

  Worry gripped his gut. Did he have an update about Laila? Had she reached out to her sister again with bad news? Or had Victor Ramos killed her after all?

  “Why don’t you sit down? You look paler than hell—”

  “What the fuck is going on?” If his scowl didn’t make it clear he’d lost all patience, his tone should.

  Cursing under his breath, Matt paced to the other side of the room, looking reluctant to speak.

  “Out with it,” he demanded.

  “Fine. You set your phone down with your emails still open, and right after you left, Laila sent you something. I opened it, thinking it might be urgent and that I’d tell you—”

  “You snooped?”

  “Whatever her message was,” Matt went on as if Trees hadn’t interrupted.

  Admittedly, the cowboy’s idea hadn’t been bad, but obviously he’d found something horrible. “And?”

  “Buddy, I don’t think you want to see this.”

  Trees glared at Matt. “The hell I don’t.”

  Matt looked down at the phone, lying on the corner of the desk. As Trees lunged for it, Matt stepped between him and the device. “I’m serious. This is just going to fuck with your head more.”

  Trees didn’t care. And he was done arguing.

  This was another moment where it paid to have really long arms and legs. Trees shoved the cowboy to one side and lunged just close enough to swipe the phone.

  Matt stopped fighting after that and merely sighed. “Fine. Be a stupid bastard. I was just trying to save you from having your heart ripped out.”

  What the hell was he talking about?

  Trees launched his emails and found the one from Laila at the top. The subject line read: Maybe this will convince you…

  What did that mean?

  Inside, the body of the email said:

  * * *

  I tried to tell you that I am happy with Victor, and you did not believe me. Get it through your head, yanqui.

  * * *

  Their conversation in La Pesca rang through his head.

  “You want to be with him?”

  “Of course. I always have.”

  At the memory, cold slithered under his skin.

  But there was more, a video. The still frame alone shocked him. A naked Laila smiled up at the camera she was obviously holding. Her eyes were half-lidded and her head tossed back. Victor Ramos was on top of her with one fist gripping her hair and his face buried in her neck.

  Suddenly, the last thing he wanted to do was play the video.

  “Don’t do it,” Matt warned.

  But didn’t he have to? He had to make sure it was real. It was possible Victor had staged this as a way of making him back off. But that’s what someone who felt powerless would do, and Trees’s gut told him that wasn’t Ramos. That asshole had shot the front window out, broken into his house, and walked right inside—something a man with a vendetta did. Was he hurting Laila for revenge? Maybe…but that didn’t make sense, either. Laila was holding the camera, and she didn’t look at all distressed.

  He was probably a stupid bastard, but he ignored Matt and pressed play.

  Immediately, he heard Laila panting. The camera was unsteady. He heard sheets rustling, followed by a feminine moan, then Laila looked up and steadied the phone on them.

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

  “It is here for you. Like I am,” she breathed, rolling her head to one side to offer Victor her neck.

  “Hmm…yes.” The man she claimed had violated her over and over for six years bounced on top of her. “Good little puta.”

  “For you? Always.”

  Trees had been feeling queasy all night. Now he felt downright sick. “What the fuck?”

  “Stop watching now. It doesn’t get better,” Matt said.

  Trees couldn’t. “No.”

  But seconds later, he wished he’d listened. Victor gave a vicious tug on her hair and sank his teeth into her naked shoulder hard enough to leave marks.

  Laila cried out. “Yes!”

  “Mine.”

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

  The video ended.

  Trees sank to the cot and stared at his phone, unblinking. The silence was deafening. His head provided another exchange from La Pesca he wished he could forget.

  “You kicked and scratched and tried to get away.”

  “It is a game we enjoy. It is our foreplay. I like sex rough.”

  “I’m sorry,” Matt finally said.

  Slowly, Trees set the phone down. His stomach turned as he tried to make sense of what he’d just seen. But it was obvious, wasn’t it? She’d used her body to lure him. He’d fallen for her…and she’d played him.

  Pain chopped through his chest like an ax, cleaving him in two.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  “If it’s any consolation, when we saw her a few hours ago, I would have sworn she cared about you, probably more than a little. But after seeing that video…”

  “There’s no way she ever cared about me.”

  Trees had been bullshitting himself. She was too damaged. Too far gone. Too used to giving her body to cutthroats and criminals to have a heart anymore, much less one capable of love and devotion. He’d just been the sucker who wanted to save her.

  Matt clapped him on the shoulder in sympathy. “It seems that way.”

  “God, I’m a stupid son of a bitch.” And how would he ever close his eyes tonight without that video replaying in his head over and over, mocking him for his stupidity?

  Then again, why should he be surprised? The people who had given birth to him hadn’t found him particularly meaningful or memorable. He’d written home a few times during basic, but they’d never written back. He’d invited them to his graduation. They hadn’t responded. He’d sent a Christmas card or two in the years after that. Nothing. Maybe he’d been kidding himself that anyone could really love him.

  “No, you just trusted the wrong person. We’ve all done that.” Matt sighed. “What do you want to do? Keep searching this village or…”

  “Let’s get a good night’s sleep. We were given a mission to find Laila and bring her back. Come morning, we’ll do that. I don’t give a shit what she wants.”

  “Then what?”

  Laila thought she could play him? Oh, she hadn’t seen his dark side.

  He smiled coldly. “She’ll deal with me.”

  With tears burning her eyes, Laila jerked away from Victor’s mouth on her neck and groped for the empty bottle of tequila. Thanking God the glass was thick, she bonked him on the head.

  She didn’t hit him hard enough. Instead of passing out, he stiffened, lifted his head, and glared, eyes narrow with rage.

  Fear flared through Laila as she dropped the phone on the nightstand and prepared to fight for her life. Yes, she knew Victor’s tricks. It helped that she was more nimble and clever. But when he was this drunk, he usually passed out. Why hadn’t he this time?

  Panic gripped her. She’d already made the agonizing choice to hurt Trees—and stab herself in the heart—to save him. She still had to make her sister and her nephew safe. Whatever that took—even if she had to scheme, lie, cheat, steal, or kill—she would do it so that neither Victor nor Montilla threatened her loved ones again.

  First, she had to get Victor off of her.

  He had other ideas. After he wrapped his fingers around her neck with a growl, he squeezed until he cut off her air. “You want to play rough, bitch?”

  She choked, unable to answer—not that he would care if she spoke. He’d often threatened her, but in the past few years, she’d stopped believing he would actually kill her. The way he strangled her now had her changing her mind. Terror soaked her veins. She clawed at his hands and kicked for freedom. Victor didn’t budge.

  Black spots danced in her vision. Her lungs burned. But she couldn’t lie still and hope he found mercy. He had none.