“Antonio Gael.” My hammering heart leaps into my mouth. “You know him?”
Lips pursed, Warner lifts my hands to inspect my wrists. Two thin but jagged bands of silvery skin circle them, evidence of countless handcuffs and restraints. My skin was repeatedly rubbed raw over the years.
“We’ve spent years researching the Mexican cartels.” He lowers my hands. “Our intel gave us Gael’s name and a few other high-profile players. You just confirmed what we suspected.”
“Great.” I laugh icily.
“Tell me about Gael.”
“He’s… powerful. Richer than God. Ruthlessly violent. I’ve seen no less than a hundred women come and go in the last six years, all from different countries.”
Dabbing at my right hand with a swab, Warner hits a sore spot that makes me suck in a breath. He mutters an apology then resumes with a lighter touch.
“He didn’t want me to be his pet. I wasn’t ordered to entertain his friends or colleagues. The moment I shot that thug at the auction, Gael spotted an opportunity.”
“You shot… Jesus, Em. What the hell?”
“It’s a complicated story.”
“Evidently,” he grits out.
Watching him gently treat my busted knuckles, I try to summon the words to tell him just how much has changed since we last saw each other.
“I don’t know what to say,” I admit.
“Just start at the beginning. Take your time.”
Returning to the bedroom with a glass of water, Hyland hands it over for me to gulp down. The liquid moistens my aching throat, allowing my voice to strengthen.
“It’ll be easier to show you.”
I hand him back the glass then grab the hem of my sweatshirt. It’s no easier to yank it off this time, but I push past the stiffness, needing to get the big reveal over and done with.
With the bloodstained fabric pulled over my head, I hear their audible shock when the room reappears. Beneath the splattered sports bra, my torso has darkened to a miasma of vivid black, sickening green and deep, angry purple.
“Gael wanted to shore up his fight club enterprise with a new champion. Someone he could wheel out and milk dry through underhanded betting schemes. A champion.”
Letting them take a good look at my scarred back too, I try not to let the memories of numerous whippings that marked my skin sneak in. The shiny, vertical stripes tell the tale of many punishments.
After the first couple of years, I learned how to play the game. When I didn’t follow Gael’s commands, the punishments were severe. Once I figured that out, I made it my mission to avoid his wrath.
“This is what I had to do to survive.” I sigh in defeat as my secret is revealed. “I had to fight.”
Slumping on his haunches, Warner scrunches the red-tinged cotton balled in his fists. His brilliant blue eyes catalogue my bandaged arm and every last discoloured blotch proving my agony.
As the motel door reopens, admitting a beaming Axel with two plastic bags, Warner’s voice hits like a thunderclap.
“Whothe fuckdid this to you?”
CHAPTER 5
AXEL
PLEASE DON’T CRY, YOU HAVE SWAG – HOT MULLIGAN
Flippingmy switchblade up in the air, I deftly catch it then repeat the throw. Once. Twice. Three times. Not even staring up at the boring ceiling fan is encouraging my eyes to fall shut.
We’ve been holed up for fifteen hours, resting and refuelling while keeping a low profile. The jet is scheduled to leave London shortly, bringing our departure from Mexico tantalisingly close.
