“What?” Logan said into the phone.
I could hear Deck on the line, “Sculpt, you screw with this, you’re fucked. I told you it will go down, but you need to wait. My men are on mission, I’m waiting on two more. We need them, Sculpt. We don’t have enough men for a complete take down of this place. You fuck this now, he’ll know something’s up, and if he escapes, neither of you will be safe for the rest of your goddamn lives.”
“I’ll deal with Raul. Get her out.” Logan closed his eyes for a half a second then looked at me. The pain I saw there was so raw that my breath hitched, and I wanted to go to him to ease it. How could I feel this way? He didn’t deserve anything from me.
“Raul will torture you until you piss and puke blood. Then he’ll kill you,” Deck shouted over the phone. “Just hold the fuck up. We know what we’re doing.”
“It’s too late for that. Dave’s bringing her out. Be ready.” Logan dropped the phone from his ear. He must have pressed the End button, because Deck’s shouts could no longer be heard. “You know what to do.” He reached in his pocket and pulled out what looked like a passport. “This will get you home.” He passed it to me.
My hand shook as I took it from him. Why was he doing this? It didn’t make sense. He’d made her fear him and threatened to sell her. He’d told her he’d not protect her if she misbehaved.
“Man. Deck is right. A few more days—”
“She doesn’t have a few more days, she has zero.” He was talking about me as if … as if he cared what happened to me. “Deck will meet you. Don’t come back, Dave. Don’t ever come here again. What happened to your sister … fuck … I’m sorry.”
Dave stiffened and nodded as if no more needed to be said, and Logan put his hand on Dave’s shoulder and squeezed.
Sister? What happened to Dave’s sister? Could she have been a slave? Was she one of the girl’s she’d seen? Had she been killed? Why did Logan care? How good of friends were they?
When Logan shifted, his eyes met mine.
The Logan I’d fallen in love with, not the cold man who held me captive, stood in front of me. I saw it in him, the way his eyes warmed, the way his fingers stroked the back of my hand.
And it terrified me. Because no matter how much I’d fought it, I still loved this man.
Dave tugged on my arm, and mine and Logan’s hands separated. I stared, unable to move.
“Emily. Go.”
Dave yanked, but I refused to budge. “Chiquita, we have to leave now.”
Then the coldness descended over Logan’s face. “Get out of here, Emily. This is who I am. Don’t think any different just because I fucked you a few times.”
I gasped. Dave swore beneath his breath.
“Get her out of my sight.”
I glared at the man that just sucked the last bit of hope from my heart. “Why are you letting me go then? Just sell me, you bastard! Why take the risk?”
He shook his head. “I’m risking nothing. My father will be marginally upset, but I’m his prize fighter, and if I choose to let you go then that is my choice.” His tone softened, the hardness in his eyes remained. “Go repair from this place, Emily.”
“Sculpt.” Dave sighed and lowered his head, clearly unhappy at what was going down.
My response was automatic, as if the words were sitting on the tip of my tongue waiting to be spoken. “Some things can’t be repaired. You break them bad enough, they can’t be fixed.”
His body flinched. His jaw clenched, and I saw his index finger twitch against his thigh. He was angry, but I also recognized the pain in his expression. And I was glad he hurt.
I’d live. I’d survive.
I realized I didn’t have it in me to forgive him or to forget. But I’d find a place in me that could—live.
Dave yanked hard on my hand and we ran. The last vision I saw of Logan was him turning his back on me.
Dave hauled ass through the compound, sticking to the shadows while dragging me behind him. I was too frazzled to do anything but follow him, and if it was true and I was getting out of here, then I’d do anything he asked of me.
He stopped behind one of the houses, his finger up to his mouth making certain I stayed quiet. I heard the steady patter of paws and feet and leaned up against the wall, holding my breath, praying they couldn’t hear my heart thumping erratically.
When the guard and dog passed, Dave gestured to me to stay put while he crept low across the yard. I saw the flash of his knife reflect against the moonlight as he unsheathed it. In one swift movement the guard standing near the wall fell to the ground.
Dave gestured to me, and I went running to him.
Suddenly there were three loud gun shots and lots of shouts as guards started running toward the main house.
“Fool.” Dave said staring off in the direction of the gunshots. “That’s our signal.”
He grabbed my hand again, and we ran the length of the wall. It felt like forever as I scrambled after him, trying to stop from ducking as more gun shots went off.
Dave stopped and dropped to his knees at a grate in the ground. He pulled several times before it gave way. “The ladder’s slippery. Careful.”
I slid through feet first and felt for the ladder rung then started climbing down. I stopped when I heard a clang of metal. “Dave?” I didn’t trust the guy, and I had no idea why he was helping me escape, but right now he was all I had.
“Don’t stop, Chiquita.” His voice carried down the damp sewer. “You need to hurry.”
“Are you … are you coming?”
“No, Chiquita. Go quickly.”
Oh God, he wasn’t coming. I was all alone in a sewer with no money and somewhere in Mexico. I froze on the ladder, fingers tight around the damp, thin metal. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, or even how to get there. Maybe this sewer was a dead end? Had Dave even checked where this led? Was this a test? Was Sculpt testing to see if I’d leave if given the chance? Could all this be a cruel sick game to torment me?