Chapter One
SAGE COULDN’T SLEEP. Before moving to Mexico, she’d averaged six to eight hours a night. Now, if she was lucky, she got four. Tonight, thanks to Carlos, she wasn’t getting any. God, she hurt—not just her wrist, but her whole body. She should have let Rosa call for the doctor, but the guy was creepy. A creepy pervert. The last time he was here, he’d tried to feel her up. This was different, though. This time Carlos had gone too far. No, he’d gone too far the moment he first laid hands on her, but tonight was by far the worst. Well, maybe not the worst, but close. She was pretty sure her wrist was broken. She didn’t even want to think about her face. Her right eye was so swollen she could barely see out of it, and her left cheek looked like a giant goose egg. Thank God Petal hadn’t been around to witness Carlos’s freak out. This time. Her breath hitched at the thought of her innocent baby girl. How was she supposed to protect her daughter from this nightmare? Warm tears spilled from her swollen eyes and trickled down her face. Carlos Diez was not the man she thought he was. He was a hateful, evil monster who’d lured her in with sweet words and false promises. How could she have been so wrong about him? She’d asked herself this question a million times. She was trapped, teetering on the edge of broken, and the cracks were beginning to show. Something had to give. If only she could find a way out of this mess. If only.
Tonight was stupid. It was her fault. She shouldn’t have reacted, shouldn’t have fought back, but when she saw Carlos standing in her room with the photo in his hands—her photo—she completely lost it. Her eyes drifted closed as she pictured that day in her mind. It was the day Alex had taken her and Petal to the zoo. The weather was perfect. Everything was perfect. Afterwards, he’d driven them to the lake where they had a picnic lunch. While there, a woman commented on what a pretty family they made and offered to take a picture. It was the only picture she had of him. And now it was gone.
She thought about Carlos’s reaction. Like everything else with that man, it didn’t make sense.
“What is this?” he’d asked.
“It’s nothing, just a picture from home.”
“This is your home now, preciosa. How many times do I have to tell you this?”
It wasn’t her home. Austin was her home. Of course, she didn’t dare tell him this.
Brown eyes that she used to think were attractive narrowed on her. “And if it’s nothing, then why were you hiding it in your drawer?”
Because I knew you’d destroy it if you saw it! “It’s just a picture, Carlos,” she quietly replied.
Eyes narrowing further, he asked in that menacing tone she’d come to hate, “Are you sure that’s all it is?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“If it means so little, then you won’t mind if I get rid of it.” He raised the frame above his head and brought it down hard on top of the dresser.
“No!” she cried out as pieces of glass scattered and fell to the floor.
“No?” he mocked.
Tears of helpless anger welled in her eyes. God, how she despised him. She held out her hand. “Give me the picture, Carlos.”
His lips split into an evil grin as he ripped it from the frame and held it in the air between them. “You want it? Come get it.”
She knew better than to give in to his taunt, but she was tired, exhausted—so damn sick of this hateful man and this awful place. All she wanted was to take her daughter and leave. She dove for the picture and he quickly whipped it away. Then, with a smirk on his face, he tore it to shreds right before her very eyes.
That’s when she lost it. With a scream of rage, she jumped him. Clawing and biting, she took him to the ground.
Laughter poured from his despicable mouth as he punched her in the eye. When his fist connected with her lip, she kneed him in the balls. Laugh at that, she thought as he dropped onto his side and began gasping for air. Stupid her thought it was over, thought that she’d finally beaten the asshole at his own game. She should have known better. Men like Carlos couldn’t admit defeat because that would make them seem weak. A man who got off on beating women was already weak. If the club had taught her anything, it was that.
She was almost to the door when he latched onto her hair. Pain seared across her scalp, causing her to scream. Rearing back, she elbowed him in his lower gut. Spanish curses flew from his mouth, but she was immune to his poisonous barbs. She was immune to him. He grabbed her elbow and she tried to wrench it away but he was too strong.
“Fucking puta,” he hissed while twisting his body in a way that put excruciating pressure on her wrist.
Screaming, she dropped to her knees.
God, how she hated that man! Just thinking about it made her mad enough to spit nails. There was no doubt in her mind that if Luca hadn’t interrupted when he did, she would be dead. This led to thoughts of what Carlos would do to Petal if she wasn’t around to protect her, which in turn, led back to the most important question of all: How was she going to get herself out of this mess?
Right as she was drifting on the edge of sleep, she heard footsteps outside her bedroom door. Her eyes flew open on a gasp. Carlos was back. White-hot pain flared up her arm as she rolled onto her uninjured side and quickly slid from the bed. Once she was steady on her feet, she darted across the room to where she’d hidden the shower rod. Thankfully, Carlos hadn’t spotted it. Her pulse drumming wildly in her ears, she slid behind the door, and waited.
Please, give me strength, she thought as the door swung open and light spilled across the empty bed. Lifting the rod over her head, she positioned to attack.
“She’s not in bed,” a deep voice whispered. Luca.
“What do you mean she’s not in bed?” Rosa replied.
Sage lowered the rod while slumping in relief. “I’m here,” she called out.
As Luca entered the room with Rosa on his heels, she slowly moved out from behind the door, her body protesting with each step. Luca took one look at her face and started cursing.
Sage met Rosa and Luca—along with the rest of the staff—the day she and Petal arrived in Mexico. It made sense that Rosa would befriend her as she was the house manager, but Luca was in Carlos’s inner circle. He was one of his trusted bodyguards. Luca immediately took to Petal, and somewhere along the way, he’d started looking out for the two of them.
“Quickly, grab only what you need,” he said, shoving a backpack at her.
Hope flared as she took the pack. “Why? What’s happening?”
Rosa spoke in hushed tones, “It’s time, mija. Take the backpack. Petal is waiting with Almea downstairs. We need to get you packed and out the door quickly.”
Sage frowned. “What about Carlos?”
“He left an hour ago. Juan and Sergio are with him,” Luca answered.
Juan and Sergio were Carlos’s right-hand men. Like Carlos, they were hateful and sadistic. Unlike Carlos, they didn’t hide behind a suit and pretend to be civilized. This meant that Carlos had left Luca and Andreas to watch them. Andreas was another of Carlos’s scary-as-hell guards. There was no way he would let them leave.
As if reading her mind, Luca clipped, “Andreas is in the pool house with Gabriella. I’m not sure how long she can keep him there.”