Damian absorbs the information, then asks, “Is there anyone here who will be looking for you?”
I quickly shake my head and then realize my mistake. I just told him no one would notice if I disappeared or if he killed me.
Oh, God.
Panic flairs through me. I can’t stay here. But… shit, it’s either the death sentence hanging over my head – or this man’s mercy. I don’t know which is worse right now.
Damian instantly picks up on my distress. “That’s not why I asked. I need to know if there’s someone I should contact. That’s all. You’re safe here, Cara.”
With wide eyes, I watch as Damian leaves the room, and then I numbly sit down on the bed. Unable to control anything, I let the tears flow. I don’t move as the trauma shreds through me until all that remains is the empty shell.
DAMIAN
Leaving Cara to get some rest, I head out to the car to grab my bag, along with the camera and memory cards we took from the syndicate.
It’s time to start putting all the puzzle pieces together.
From what Jeff overheard while he was guarding the container, we have some information about Cara, but not enough to go on.
I now know Cara’s from South Africa, and her parents are dead. She’s been on the run for seven years. Which means she was eighteen when she was left to make it on her own with the fucking mafia hunting her.
Anger surges through me as I walk into my office. I drop the bag and place the camera on the desk. Looking at the four memory cards, I take a deep breath, and then I open my laptop. I insert the memory card marked number one and then press play.
It seems to start at the end of a conversation, giving me not much information. My eyes flick over the men, then lock on Cara.
Christ, the naked terror on her face delivers a blow to my gut that makes it hard to breathe for a moment. She’s still fully dressed, not a mark on her face.
I suck in a deep breath at seeing just how breathtaking she is, and then the men close in on her. I only manage to watch two minutes, then I have to pause the footage, so I can breathe through the intense rage burning inside me.
Fisting my hands, I close my eyes and focus on my breathing until the rage becomes controllable.
I’ve only felt like this once before, and it was when Leah, the only girlfriend I ever had and Jeff’s daughter, was killed.
Not able to deal with the demons in my past, I open my eyes and focus on the laptop’s screen.
You have a job to do.
Every new detail I learn is a step closer to finding out exactly what’s going on, so I can deal with the problem.
Focus.
Pressing play again, I clench my teeth as I force myself to take in every detail, searching for anything that can help.
By the time the footage ends, my hands are shaking with anger.
Fucking bastards.
Minutes pass as I fight to regain control over the vengeful emotions watching Cara get beaten elicited in me.
Once again, I wish I could go back so I could give those fuckers painful deaths.
When my anger cools a little, the protectiveness I feel for Cara becomes fiercer than anything I’ve experienced before.
My eyes land on the other three disks.
Christ, it’s going to kill me to watch them.
In my line of work, you’d think I’d be used to seeing the brutal side of life. I can kill a man without giving it a second thought or feeling anything. I’ve saved countless lives while still being able to keep an emotional distance between the victim and myself.
But not with Cara.
Shaking my head, I try to figure out why she’s different, but again the question remains unanswered. I shelf my thoughts and turn my attention to the job.
Pulling my phone from my pocket, I send Jeff a message.
Damian: Safe at home. Learned Cara’s parents died, and she’s been on the run the past seven years. We need to find out what the connection is between Tom Smith and Tredoux. Arrange a new identity for Cara…
My fingers pause as I think about the identity.
… Karen Weston. Make her my wife.
I read the message, and before I can start picking apart why I’m making her my wife, I press send and put my phone away.
Chapter 8
CARA
I hear the key rattle in the door, and my insides turn to stone. I try to switch off, to take my mind to a safer place, but it’s becoming impossible.
I can’t see anything. This time there’s no blinding light, and I’m thankful for it. It only makes everything more real, and my swollen eyes water and burn.
I hear movement, and I stiffen painfully. I press harder into the cold floor, and it makes a relentless ache seize my body.