HE SHOT THE man. Lydia just watched her husband commit murder in cold blood. His eyes were void of emotion, his expression seething, and his cold demeanor something she didn’t recognize. Murder was a far cry from the affair Lydia Prescott-Valdez feared she would stumble upon when looking for her husband after he skipped yet another date night – a sign her marriage was in trouble. The shock of what unfolded instead provoked a sharp gasp and sent her running when one of Esteban’s men caught her eye – he saw her. She ran blindly, her body on auto-pilot while the last several minutes, which would change her life forever, played back like a bad movie reel.

When she had pulled up to the real estate tycoon’s building in booming Miami just minutes before, she thought it odd that there were so many cars in the parking lot at such a late hour. Esteban’s car, front and center. Nobody holds board meetings that late. Mistake number one – don’t go in. A sense of fury raced through her, and rage sent her storming through the front door despite the warning bells sounding in her head telling her not to go unless she was prepared for hard truths and ready to deal with them. Deaf to her own good sense, she went up the elevator to his executive suite. Mistake number two – if you act on emotion, be prepared for the fall out.

Confident that she was about to unveil the source of her husband’s distraction in the form of giant fake boobs and a trashy discount store outfit that wasn’t even fit for a stripper, she was surprised to find his office empty. Fists tight and white knuckled, she followed the sound of something she couldn’t identify, intent on finding her damn husband. Half of the executive floor was under construction, and as she followed the sounds, it began to look like it was just late-night renovations, given the drill-like sounds and what was perhaps a saw. Mistake number three – missing people and odd noises never end well.

She stopped in her tracks when she heard a man’s blood curdling scream. Mistake number four – if a man screams in sheer agony, you should run. But she didn’t; she kept on going until she found her husband, gun in hand, watching one of his associates drag a knife down the side of a bloodied and beaten man’s face while an equally brutalized man lay on the floor in a wounded heap. The man at the other end of the torture was held up only by rope dangling from the rafters because he could no longer stand on his own two feet. Certain her husband had nothing to do with something so heinous, that he stumbled upon it just as she had, she waited for him to use the gun to free the victims.

He raised his gun, alright, and used it but not at all the way she assumed he would. Gunfire rang out as the body on the floor jolted from the impact of the bullets Esteban just emptied into his now dead corpse. The other man cried out, wetting himself from fear. Fear Lydia’s husband invoked, fear only evil could stir, fear that now raced through her, too.

She hadn’t realized that her reaction was out loud. She didn’t hear herself, but one of Esteban’s men did. Jason. He was her driver and body guard, appointed to watch over her and her son. Nausea settled in when their eyes met, and menace rested in his stare; all she could do was run. She was completely unaware of how she made it down the elevator, through the lobby, and out to her car – she was just…there.

Sitting behind the wheel of her running car, panic threatened to paralyze her until she saw Jason through the lobby’s glass doors, running toward her. Tears spilled over, and she gasped for air while her tires spun out on the hot pavement. Slammed with every emotion one could muster after realizing that not only was her marriage clearly over, but she also just witnessed a murder, her next move became obvious. Run.

Her whirlwind love affair with Esteban was tainted at some point, and Lydia had been determined to get things back on track. She wasn’t a quitter, used to getting what she wanted. Thinking back, the socialite circuit that Lydia and her sister Trinity frequented exposed them to endless lines of suitors, but there was one that caught Lydia’s eye, and fought for her heart – Esteban Ricardo Valdez – also accustomed to getting what he wanted. He pursued her, wooed her, and finally won her over despite the enormous red flags on fire that she chose to ignore. He was too damn charming and easy on the eyes for her own good.

Their marriage began as a fairytale, certain to end in a forever happily ever after, but eventually, the newness wore off, and the once doting husband became the absentee husband. When Lydia became pregnant with their son, it seemed their happily ever after was on the horizon once again, until the baby was born, and family became boring. She had always prided herself on her independence, though she lived on a trust fund and never worked a day in her life, and her confidence – until now.

It wasn’t the money and spoiled life her husband offered her; she grew up privileged. It was love, or so she thought, and she had been ready to fight for it. Whatever had Esteban’s attention was to meet its match, but she was no match for murder and scandal, nor did she expect to stumble upon it.

She wasn’t that tough, and he wasn’t worth that much. Sitting in a cold musty interview room at Miami PD, her mind was reeling. It all started to fall into place as she sat alone in the room, lost in thought. So many late night, broken hearts and tears, wondering where her husband had been, fell into place now. A person doesn’t simply pick up a gun one day and create a scene such as the one she watched unfold. It was calculated, methodical, and horrific. He knew what he was doing because he had done it before, more than once, more than twice.

How the hell did she love a man like that, and why the hell had she been so bent on trying make him love her back when he didn’t want her. Now she didn’t want him. She feared him and all that came with him. When she told the police officer what she had witnessed, he placed her in an interview room and was likely watching her through the large mirrored window to her left, trying to decide if she was a half-crazed loon or a real witness to a crime. She was dressed in a scandalous dress that was supposed to impress and seduce her husband, and her makeup was a runny mess from all the frantic tears she unloaded, along with skinned knees and elbows…she must’ve fallen at some point and just couldn’t remember. Lydia looked like a hot mess right out of Miami’s seedy night life.

Jason was trained to see, hear, and smell everything – to always be intimately familiar with his surroundings. Tonight, that skill paid off when a small breathy sound caught his attention, and he quickly followed it back to its source, standing halfway around the corner of a wall behind a plastic construction curtain in the dimly lit distance. Lydia. He’d recognize those curves anywhere, even in the shadows. When their eyes locked, he knew exactly how much she had seen…everything.

Terror and fear were evident in her expression, even with the poor lighting. He needed to get to her before anyone else noticed her, especially Esteban, and before she ran. Like she read his thoughts just as they surfaced, she backed away slowly at first, then turned and ran. Shit.

Jason stepped back from where he stood and pulled his phone from his pocket, as if he was taking a call, then excused himself. As Esteban’s right hand, nobody, including Esteban, questioned him. It wasn’t unusual for him to take calls and disappear to take care of business without explanation, and it worked this time too, despite the old played out I’m taking a call trick. Truth was, Esteban was entranced and completely distracted by the torture he and the rest of the men were inflicting; they didn’t care or even notice his absence. Good.

Once out of view of those he wished not to draw attention from, he tore out of there, a man on a mission. He came through the lobby doors as her car tore off like a bat out of hell, understandably so. Quick to follow, he tracked her using her GPS, his gut burning. He knew exactly where she was headed, and it was the worst place she could go. He needed to stop her before she ruined everything, or worse, got herself killed.

After hitting every red light in town, Jason finally made it to the Police Station where he found Lydia’s car haphazardly parked, right out front, keys still in it, and running. In a petrified frenzy, no doubt. He hoped he was there in time to stop her from making the biggest mistake of her life. Before she incited her own death sentence.

It didn’t take long to find her – she was the talk of the station. Esteban owned the local PD; they were deep in his pockets. When you were in the business he was, local law enforcement went to the top of your payroll because you were going to need a lot of favors, deaf ears, and turned blind eyes. He caught the attention of a familiar face and was quickly taken to her.

Jason entered the room Lydia was held in, and her face drained of all color. “Let’s go.”

“No!” she said, turning to the officer as she made a desperate plea. “You can’t leave me with him. He was there. He…he knows!”

The jackass smiled. “Whatever you say, darlin’. I’m doing you a favor.”

“A favor? I’m as good as dead; you have to help me! Please don’t leave me with him!” she pleaded to no avail, and again the man just smirked while Jason glared.

“Thanks, man. I got it from here – I’ll take care of the problem.” Jason tried to keep it cool to avoid any more unwanted involvement. They needed to get the hell out of there while they could.

“Problem? I’m a problem? I think you mean witness – to murder – one you seemed heavily involved in.” She turned to the officer one more time, so desperate her voice fell to a whisper. “You can’t leave – please arrest him. Don’t leave me with him. He’s going to hurt me – probably kill me.”

Something she said hit him hard in the gut, and he didn’t know why it mattered so much to him in that moment – she was afraid of him. She thought he was as bad as Esteban, and that stung.

The officer fired back in a less than gentle way, “Hey, you’re lucky I’m letting you out of here. You came into a Police Station drunk, high, and who knows what else, trying to file a false report and stir shit for a trick gone bad. I should arrest you for each count, including driving under the influence. You parked your damn car on the front steps of the Police Station!”

“High? Like drugs? Wait, trick?” Lydia saw red, and her whisper quickly became a raging roar. “You think I’m a prostitute? Who the hell do you think you are talking to? I’ll have your badge for that!”

Jason could only imagine what was going through Lydia’s head. First, she knew that he saw her at the crime scene, or she wouldn’t have run or feared him now. Then she went for help, was denied, and the officer not only insulted her but was willing to turn her over to an accomplice to murder. He didn’t want her to fear him, but she needed to until they got out of there.

Approaching her with a grab of her arm, Jason pulled her close enough to hear what he had to say. “Play along, or neither of us is getting out of here alive.”

Confusion darted across her expression but was gone as quickly as it came.

“Let’s get out of here, Jackie,” he said. “The boss wants to see you – you’re late.”

Initially, she had no desire to trust him, but when he called her Jackie, something changed. He had always been good to her, patient, never offending or intimidating. It seemed he was at risk as much as she was if he was worried about getting out alive as much as she was. Her choices were slim; stay with cops who think she’s a drugged-up whore and get tossed in jail where Esteban is sure to find her. Or, take a gamble with Jason who seemed to be giving her a way out…but to where?

“Get your hands off of me, jerk.” Stumbling came easily as he manhandled her a bit, trying to get her to the door. It helped the whole drunk and high thing. “I’m not going to see the boss; he can kiss my ass.”

“Uh huh, whatever you say, sweetheart.” She stalled, wondering if he was still playing along or if he was really taking her to the boss, Esteban. He leaned down and whispered, “Trust me.”

And she did. All the way to her car where he placed her in the passenger side, got behind the wheel himself and sped off.