Blood on the glass above me. Warmth pooling beneath my cheek. Daniel’s cruel threat for my compliance. Carmen’s hand reaching for me, begging me to save her…
My eyes flew open. The sudden, jolting movement sent another wave of nausea rolling through my head, and the world blurred. A strong arm tightened to an iron band around my shoulders, pinning my side against a massive, hard chest.
“Stay still.” The order came out in a gruff rumble, but the gentle touch on my face calmed me.
Raúl won’t hurt me.
I realized he knelt on the floor, bracing me against his body with one corded arm around my shoulders. His other hand held my face with shocking tenderness, preventing me from sudden movements that might jar my injury again.
“What’s going on?” A different, silky smooth voice slithered around Raúl’s protective bulk, sliding down my spine like an icy blade.
Stefano Duarte. He would kill me if he knew I’d helped Daniel take Carmen.
I shuddered, but I didn’t dare close my eyes again. Carmen needed me to save her.
Daniel had lied to me. He’d always intended to abduct her and drag her to her enemies, not her allies. I’d handed her over to men who terrified her. I couldn’t leave her to that fate. Not when I had caused it.
Raúl’s muscles rippled around me, the protective cage of his brawny arms drawing closer. I pressed into him, desperate for the massive barrier between me and the insane cartel kingpin.
My hand fisted in my protector’s shirt, clinging to him as tightly as possible. The world stopped spinning when I focused on his verdant green eyes, which burned with an incandescent, fierce light.
“I tried to stop him.” My words came out as a whispered plea. It was true. I did try to stop Daniel. They had to believe me. My fingers trembled, and I curved them tighter into Raúl’s shirt, wrestling down the terror that threatened to choke me. “I couldn’t stop him. I couldn’t…”
My breath clogged in my throat, resisting the confession. Raúl might not stop Stefano from killing me if they both figured out the truth. I didn’t think he was capable of doing it himself, but I couldn’t know for sure. I’d betrayed their cartel. Daniel had told me that he intended to slaughter Stefano and Raúl by the end of the day. And I’d helped him. Willingly.
“Couldn’t stop who?” Raúl pressed. His teeth flashed in a purely predatory snarl, but his careful hold on my face didn’t turn violent. “Who did this to you?”
I drew in a shuddering breath. He was still enraged on my behalf. He still thought I was a victim. If I could focus his rage on Daniel, he might be distracted from asking about my sins. If I could convince them to leave me and save Carmen, I might be able to get out of here alive.
“Daniel.” I cringed at the harsh, beastly sound that ripped from Raúl’s chest, but his anger gave me the courage I needed to press on. “He followed me up to the penthouse,” I said in a rush. “I tried to stop him, but he…he took Carmen.”
“What?” This time, it was Stefano’s inhuman howl that tore through the corridor. I pressed deeper into Raúl’s chest, praying he wouldn’t turn me over to his sadistic boss.
Stefano appeared before me, vicious intent in every thundering step. He would rip me away from Raúl. He’d tear me apart. I’d caused his trophy to be stolen from him. No one stole from Stefano Duarte.
“Stop!” Raúl’s deep voice boomed around me, pushing Stefano back like a shockwave. “Come near her, and I’ll kill you.”
The madman stopped in his tracks, but his body practically vibrated with the effort of holding himself in check. Light flickered over his black eyes like twin, white-hot flames.
“If Daniel took Carmen, you need my help to get her back.” Raúl’s voice was still rough and savage, but he kept his protective hold on me rather than attacking his boss. “You will not touch Marisol.” The last was a dark promise, an echo of the fevered edict he’d snarled at Daniel when he’d been choking the life out of the younger man.
“She helped him,” Stefano hissed, his glinting eyes fixed on my face with lethal focus.
“Does it look like she helped?” Raúl’s muscles flexed around me with his own suppressed violence. “She says she tried to stop him. She bled to try to keep Carmen from him. He could’ve killed her. Back off and think for one fucking second,” he snapped. “You’re losing your goddamn mind.”
As far as I was concerned, Stefano Duarte had lost his mind a long time ago. I wasn’t certain if he’d ever been sane.
But Raúl’s words seemed to center him. He didn’t calm, but his eyes became sharper, and his aggressive posture shifted to something more purposeful. Somehow, he was more terrifying when he was coldly collected than when he’d torn after me in a rabid rage.