Page 18 of Sin of Love
“I’m so sorry.” Tears thicken his soft words. “I couldn’t stop him. I don’t know how to help you—how to help either of us. You should have let him burn.”
Marco… poor Marco, trapped by Julep’s skin as surely as I am trapped by his perverse obsession.
“I saved your life. Not his.”
Though, God help me, I wish I hadn’t.
“Where are we? Are we still in California?” My voice is steadier, though raspy.
The brushing pauses, then resumes. “H-he took us home.” This time, fear underlies the words.
“Where, Marco?”
As my mental clarity grows, so does my anxiety. When they realize my tolerance for the drugs has increased, they’ll give me more. And more. If I resist, they’ll shove a funnel down my throat or worse—a needle in my arm. It’s happened twice already.
“Quintana Roo,” he whispers. “The Yucatan. He took us back to papá.”
For moments, the only sound is the movement of the brush and my ragged breathing.
“Who’s your papá?”
“El… El Jefe. Rafael Lazcano. I’m sorry I never told you. I—I didn’t know how.”
I stare into the darkness above me, tears of horror welling and dripping from my eyes, wetting the filthy hair at my temples.
No wonder…
Julep/Marco is the son of El Jefe, the reigning head of La Familia Lazcano. No wonder his behavior is tolerated. Catered to, even. No wonder he wasn’t punished for killing his father’s men.
No wonder no wonder no wonder.
“Deirdre, you’re scaring me.”
I’m shaking. Laughing and crying. Because there’s no way out of this that doesn’t include dying. I’m not going home to Nate and Gideon. I’m in a prison cell somewhere in the Yucatan, at the seat of one of the most dangerous cartels in the world, held captive by the son of that cartel’s boss.
And that issome seriously fucked-up karma.
“What are you going to do?” whispers Marco.
I shrug; chains clink. “The same thing I did last time.”
“But—”
“Go away, Marco. You didn’t help Nate and me all those years ago, and you can’t help me now. I don’t want to see you again.”
He draws a sharp breath. “You don’t mean that. Please, don’t—”
“Get out!” I scream. “You’re not fucking real! Getoutleaveleave!”
Dark Empty.
