Chapter Twenty-Eight

Holly

“This isn't right, Dad,” Armando fumes into the phone. “She's my wife.”

He paces the hotel room, his face dark with fury. I'm only hearing his half of the conversation, but I'm getting the feeling that something has changed on his father's end. From the sound of the conversation, at least what I can hear, it sounds like it might bode well for me – for a change.

“Who is this guy?” he asks.

I hear his father's muffled voice coming through the phone, but I can't quite make out the words. I'm sitting on the couch in the room, looking at the front door. I've given thought to just rushing the door, trying to escape, and letting the chips fall where they may.

But, Armando's driver, the large, intimidating man, obviously intuited what I was thinking as he positioned himself closer to the door, giving me a long, knowing look in the process.

“I don't care what he offered you,” Armando explodes. “She's mine. I'm not going to –”

Armando sighs, his face etched with frustration. He is clearly a man who doesn't like to hear the word no, or have his shiny new toys taken away from him. The thought that I am his shiny new toy sends a chill down my spine.

“Fine,” he finally says, his voice tight with anger. “Fine.”

He walks to the window, staring out at the city of Denver bathed in afternoon sunlight, the phone pressed tightly to his ear. He's nodding as if his father can see him, making noises and grunting every now-and-then. All the sudden though, his demeanor changes. He seems to relax and calm down a bit.

Whatever his dad said, obviously mollified him. Probably offered him another woman or something.

“No, that sounds good,” Armando says. “That sounds great, actually.”

He disconnects the call and slides the phone in his pocket. Armando stands at the window with his back to me. Finally, he turns around and there is a wicked smile on his face.

“Who is he?” he asks.

I cock my head. “Who is who?”

“This mystery man,” he says. “The one who's coming to save you.”

“I have no idea who you're talking about.”

“Right,” he says. “So, some guy comes out of nowhere, claims to be your husband, and demands things of my father? Do you know who my father is?”

“I'm very aware of who your father is,” I say.

“So, who is he?” Armando presses. “Who is your husband and why does no one seem to know that you're married?”

Brayden. Given everything that happened, I forgot that I was on the phone with him when Armando's men grabbed me. He must have heard what happened and put two and two together. It makes sense. He probably found my dad, and squeezed him, and Trujillo, in the process.

“I have no idea who you're talking about.”

Armando cocks his arm back like he's about to deliver a vicious backhand and I brace myself for the blow. I'm tempted to tell him I'm pregnant with the hope that it will stave off a beating, but it might only enrage him further and cause him to beat me harder. The fact that I’m carrying another man's child in my womb won't exactly endear me to him.

Armando's hand remains in the air, cocked back and ready to strike, but he hesitates. With tremendous effort, he lowers his hand again. I can see the rage in his eyes burning bright and know he wants nothing more than to smack me. I guess this is his version of problem solving.

“Don't lie to me, bitch,” he says. “Who is he?”

“I guess he's my husband?”

Armando turns away from me and lets out an animalistic growl as he punches the wall. His fist goes right through the drywall, leaving a gaping hole. It sends a shiver through me thinking that it could have been my face, rather than the wall, that he lashed out at.

But then, I have a feeling his father, probably knowing his penchant for hitting women, told him not to lay a hand on me. Which makes me feel a little bit better about the situation. But, only a tiny bit.

“So, what's the deal?” I ask. “Is your dad selling me back to my family?”

He rounds on me, a snarl on his lips, and fury in his eyes. “Shut your mouth, puta.”

“Because, based on that conversation I heard, you're not getting what you want,” I say.

His snarl turns into a greasy smirk and he shakes his head, a low, ominous chuckle passing his lips.

“Baby, I always get what I want,” he says.

“Then, why are you so pissed off?”

“Because I have to wait to fuck you, that's all,” he says. “It's unfortunate though, because I was looking forward to tearing your clothes off and banging you stupid right now.”

A chill slithers down my spine and I tremble at his words. I can't abide the idea of this man's hands on me and the way he so casually talks about taking me – against my will, mind you – terrifies me.

The fact that he says this is only a delay, though, is what's troubles me most. It sends a needle of fear straight through me.

“W – what's going on?” I ask. “I thought my husband –”

“Your husband is a dead man walking,” he sneers. “He's just too stupid to know it yet. You don't fuck with the Trujillos and walk away.”

The fear for my own life and well-being aside, the thought that they might harm Brayden hurts me deeper than anything else possibly could. That he's going to walk into a trap, one that could cost him his life, because he thinks he can save me, breaks my heart and fills me with an overwhelming sense of dread.

“What are you going to do to him?”

Armando looks at me, raising his eyebrows. “Oh, so you know him, after all?”

“What are you going to do?” I repeat.

“Well, since you're going to be my wife, I guess I can tell you,” he says. “Well, your soon-to-be dead husband is going to show up to a little meeting he arranged. He's going to hand over ten million dollars as well as some documents my father would rather not be made public, if you know what I mean. He thinks he's going to get you in exchange for that, but all he's really going to get is two fucking bullets in the head. Maybe three, depending on my mood.”

“No,” I gasp. “Please, you can't do that.”

“Oh, baby,” he whispers. “I can, and I will. You're going to learn very quickly that you don't get to call the shots when you're with a Trujillo. And if you try, you're going to wind up very dead, very fast.”

“Armando, please,” I say, feeling my eyes welling with tears. “I'm begging you. Please, don't hurt him. I'll do anything you want. I'll go anywhere with you. Please, just don't hurt him.”

“Oh, you're going to go wherever I want,” he says. “And you're most definitely going to do anything and everything I want. Especially with that tight, hot body of yours.”

I shake my head, the tears flooding down my face. “Don't do this,” I plead. “Please, don't do this.”

“Too late, baby,” he says. “The wheels are in motion. Can't stop this train now that it's left the station. It's your man's fault though. He's the one who started this. Now, he's going to find himself on the tracks in front of it.”

My body shakes and I sob uncontrollably, thinking about Brayden being hurt. Because of me. Because he's trying to save me.

“It's pretty fucking obvious that you care a lot about this guy,” he sneers. “I can't wait to see the look on your face as you watch me kill him. I may make it extra slow and painful, just for you.”

“You son of a bitch,” I snap. “You goddamn son of a bitch.”

“Been called worse, baby,” he says. “Damn though, I'm already hard just thinking about what I want to do to you. I'd love nothing more than to bend you over and fuck the shit out of you. And given how much trouble you have caused for me and my dad, I'm going to do some terrible, terrible things to you. You can count on that.”

I feel so powerless and impotent. All I can do is spit at him. He just laughs and shakes his head.

“You've got some fight in you,” he says. “I'll give you that. Can't wait to break you though. Break your spirit and turn you into a tame woman who follows my every command.”

“I'd rather die,” I spit.

He shrugs. “Well, if you don't learn and can't be tamed, you just might.”

He laughs and heads for the door, leaving me in a puddle of tears and misery. Christ, Brayden, I think to myself, hoping he can hear me telepathically or something, but knowing the futility of it, get out of here. Run. Run now and don't look back.

The tears won’t stop rolling down my face. The train is pulling out and there is absolutely nothing I can do to stop it.