Later that night, on the ride home, they were ambushed by a rival club. Gibbs was shot six times; three in the chest and three in the back. He died while trying to protect his club . . . and Sage was finally free.
That didn’t mean her world didn’t fall apart. She’d spent seven years with Gibbs. They had a child, a family, together. In the blink of an eye, it was over. Knowing that she’d wanted to end the marriage ate at her. Everyone thought they were meant for each other, that they were the perfect couple, and Sage let them think it. Why? Because it was easier than telling the truth. Had it not been for Alex, she would have packed Petal up and moved to Oregon to be with her parents.
Alex Easton was the club’s road captain. Ax, as his brothers called him, was the cousin of the Steele Raider’s president, Arlan Steele. Sage never understood the nickname game; therefore, she called most of the guys by their first names. She called Arlan by his last name because she thought Steele fit him better. Alex and Gibbs were both brothers in the club as well as great friends. When Gibbs died, it was Alex who helped her pick up the pieces. He not only helped her with Petal, but he brought her dinner when she was too exhausted to cook and never once complained about it. He was sexy and funny, the only person in the world who could make her belly laugh, and he absolutely loved her daughter. Sage didn’t mean to fall in love with him; it just happened. It didn’t hurt that he was the most beautiful man she’d ever seen. She knew he was a player. Sadly, the one woman Alex Easton wouldn’t play, was her. So, after years of throwing herself at him, Sage was done—done trying to get him to see her as something other than his dead buddy’s wife—done trying to make him see her at all. It was time to pack their things and go.
The day after she decided to leave, Carlos entered the picture. After only a month of dating, he asked her to move to Mexico with him. She said yes, not because she was in love with him, but because he was her ticket out.
It took her two weeks to sell her house and another two to close. She didn’t tell the club she was leaving. It was an awful thing to do, but she just couldn’t. She left Alex a note, and she ran.
The house in Mexico was gorgeous. It was a giant hacienda, a pink stucco palace right on the beach, surrounded by exotic flowers and plants. Back in Texas, Carlos had lived in a condo. It was nice but nothing like the place in Mexico. He’d told her that he owned his own business, that he was looking to expand, and had finally been given the opportunity. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder . . . what kind of business had guards who carried assault rifles, saluted every time they passed him by, and called him Teniente—which meant Lieutenant in English? Sage wasn’t aware that he’d been in the military. When she mentioned it to him, he laughed and called her a silly girl. She should have packed her things and left right then and there. She should have known that he wasn’t a lieutenant in the military but a lieutenant in a freaking drug cartel. By the time she figured it out, it was too late.
She thought back to the day everything changed. She and Petal were playing in the pool when Carlos came storming from the house. Before she could ask what was wrong, he ordered her inside.
“We’re playing, Carlos,” she’d told him. The next thing she knew, his fingers were in her hair. “You’re hurting me!” she shouted as he yanked her out of the pool by her hair.
“What the hell?” she screeched. His hand connected with her face in a hard and brutal slap.
When Petal started crying, he ordered Sergio to take her to her room. This, of course, only made her cry harder.
“Go, baby. I’ll come see you in a minute,” Sage told her.
“The next time I tell you to do something, do it!” Carlos growled.
“Fuck you!” she screamed back at him. This earned her another slap.
“Filthy-mouthed puta,” he hissed. “I will enjoy breaking you.”
The truck braked sharply, jostling her injured wrist, and she was wrenched from the memory as a bolt of pain zipped through her body.
“Sorry,” Alon called back to them.
“Are we there yet?” Petal whispered.
“Not yet. It’s light enough to see now. Why don’t you read the book Rosa packed for you?”
Once Petal was settled with the book, Sage closed her eyes and tried to sleep but her mind wouldn’t let her.
Why didn’t I leave? She must have asked herself that question a million times. Deep in her gut she knew things weren’t right. During their first month, before the pool incident, Carlos did things that made her uncomfortable. Like the time she smiled at one of his men, only to discover that the man went missing the next day. Or the time they were having sex and Carlos told her that he was going to carve his name across the butterfly tattoo on her back—a tattoo that had both Gibbs’s and Petal’s names on the wings—in order to make her forget about those low-life, filthy bikers. Instead of listening to her gut, she’d made excuses. She’d chalked it up to possessive, jealous boyfriend talk—something she understood from spending over a decade tied to a motorcycle club. She convinced herself that it would get better, but it only got worse.
Her thoughts drifted to her daughter and to all the shit her little girl had seen. Carlos hadn’t touched Petal. Sage would have killed him if he’d tried, but Petal had seen him hit Sage multiple times. The two times Petal tried to intervene, Carlos had her locked inside her room. If that wasn’t bad enough, the asshole then tried to turn Petal against her. He told Petal it was Sage’s fault that he beat her, that Sage was too willful and needed a strong hand to guide her. Strong hand my ass. Carlos Diez was a manipulative piece of shit who got off on abusing women. In the seven years that she and Gibbs were together, he’d never laid a hand on her. Ever. Their relationship was far from perfect, but deep down, Gibbs was a good man. Carlos was not. How she’d missed that was beyond her.
After the pool incident, he’d profusely apologized for his behavior. He claimed he was stressed about his new position and wanted to impress his new boss. Sage believed him. Things were good after that . . . until the night she called home.
Carlos had taken her phone on their arrival in Mexico. He claimed it wouldn’t work and told her he would give her a replacement but never did. She was lonely. He never let her go anywhere. She missed Austin, missed the club, her friends, and Alex. If that life was over for her, then why couldn’t she let it go? One night, while Carlos was away on business, she snuck into his office and called home. The moment she heard Lucy’s voice, she started crying. Lucy, of course, freaked. Sage played it off as homesickness, but she knew that Lucy didn’t believe her. They talked about everything except for Alex. Lucy knew Sage had feelings for him. It wasn’t until Lucy said she had to go that Sage asked about him.
“Just tell me he’s okay.”
“You leaving with just a note tore him up, but to answer your question, yes, he’s good.” That was all Sage needed to hear. They hung up with the promise that she would call again.
Carlos arrived home early the next morning. The fact that he wasn’t due back for another day should have tipped her off.
“Hey, honey, you’re home early,” was all she got out before his fist slammed into her face. Sage screamed as his ring raked across the side of her eye, splitting it wide open.