Prologue
Danielle
“Happy birthday to me,” I muttered to myself, planting my ass on the seawall. Why I expected this year to be different to any other, I did not know. Maybe because I was eighteen, it’s a special year. The year you officially become an adult, not that my father had noticed, that I was an adult or that it was my birthday.
That’s what this holiday was supposed to be about. My birthday. Time alone, well, as alone as two people can get when they’re surrounded by armed minders. No work, no cops, no killing, kidnap, rape. Just a normal father and daughter on holiday together. But nope, business comes first. The cartel is family. A more important one to him than me.
The tears filling my eyes blurred my vision as I cast my gaze over the sun setting behind the turquoise waters. Its burnt orange glow bounced off the calm ocean, washing everything in its warm glow. Laughter drifted towards me, rubbing my nose in the fact that I was alone. If you didn’t count Angel, one of my father’s gorillas, which I didn’t. The man-beast barely spoke. His only use was making sure no-one spoke to me. Ever.
Eighteen, friendless, stuck on a beach in some exclusive Mexican tourist trap. Mexican being key. For my eighteenth, my billionaire drug baron father had traveled all the way across our little country. I’d longed for Europe, Hawaii, anywhere the name Ramirez meant nothing to people. Anywhere people wouldn’t run when they realised who my father was, but no, we had to stay in Mexico.
His laughter tore my attention from the clear azure waters and the dying sun glittering off its surface. Loud, genuine, the kind of laugh you want to join in with, even if you’re not privy to the joke.
He raced over the white sand, his muscular body bronzed from his days playing volleyball on the beach. I’d been watching him since we arrived here three days ago. Always smiling, always surrounded by long, thin blondes with breasts that defied gravity and bikinis that pushed the limits of decency. They hung from his impressive biceps, ruffled his messy, dirty blonde hair.
The ball bounced effortlessly off his clenched fists as he tossed his Godlike body to the sand. His cheer team applauded. Surrounded by laughter and tourists, I’d never been so miserable nor so alone.
A heavy sigh escaped me as I pulled myself up, resigning myself to another night alone in my hotel with Angel and his dazzling personality. Angel followed, silently.
I’m not sure what shocked me the most, the sudden pain racing over the back of my head, the fall to the cobbled pathway or Angel’s deep inhuman growl. He rushed to me, his murderous hands wrapped around my arms, dragging me back to my feet.
“Sorry. I’m so sorry. Is she okay?”
Angel grimaced, squaring his already expansive chest, straining the buttons of his sweat-sodden white shirt. His hand reached to his belt as he scooped to collect the volleyball.
“Angel, it was an accident,” I pleaded, dreading the inevitable scene he’d cause. His fingers wrapped tight around the blade tucked into his pants. “Please, Angel, I’m fine.”
I threw myself between the incomprehensibly blood hungry gorilla my father trusted my safety with and the ball.
“You okay?”
My heart fluttered, I’d never understood that when I’d read it in books, it always gave me the impression the character had some kind of terminal heart defect, but I swear it happened. A flutter is the best way to describe it, kind of a flurry of tiny, racing beats before normal blood pumping service resumes, like it’s been filled with tiny, love hungry firefly and they all danced to the sound of his voice.
Him. It was him. The one with the infectious laughter and fan club of Barbie lookalikes.
“Did you hurt your head?” His green eyes narrowed. He had green eyes. I’d never gotten close enough to notice them until now. And holy fuck were they green, a deep, heart flutter causing emerald green.
“Miss?”
My cheeks burned as I realised I’d been staring at him, my mouth flapping like a demented fish. The first person to speak to me here and I act like a raving lunatic. Great, just great, now he thought I was some kind of crazy mute girl.
“I… Sorry, yeah, I’m, uh,” a fucking idiot, that’s what I was. “I’m fine.”
I handed him the ball back, turning back to Angel, keen to end my humiliation.
Unperturbed by the bristling, knife-wielding man beast by my side he strode along beside me, his lopsided grin did strange things to my insides.
“You’re at the same hotel as me, right? The Valentin?”
“Yeah.”
Angel glowered. No doubt the foolish gorilla believed this American Adonis was a decoy for a rival cartel, ready to steal me away as punishment for some heinous crime my father had committed.
“Let me walk you back. That ball whacked you pretty hard.”
“It’s fine. I’m fine. Really, go back to your game.”
“We’re done anyway. Everyone’s heading back to get ready for a night on the tiles. I’m Leo.”
He held a bronzed, sand-dusted hand out.
“Dani-ca. I’m Danica.”
My palm tingled as he took my hand, his skin rough, a man’s hand my father would say.
Angel eyed him, venom hiding behind his inky black glare as Leo offered his hand.
“That’s Angel,” I said, stepping between them, “my dad’s friend. He’s keeping me company while my dad works.”
“I know that feeling,” Leo laughed. “My pops is the same. Always working.”
I bet his dad doesn’t kill people for a living. Or order them to be killed on his behalf. I very much doubt my father had the balls to get his own hands dirty, not when he had man-monsters like Angel only too happy to do the bloody work for him.
“So, Dani-ca, if your dad’s busy tonight, you can join us if you want? We were gonna head into Puerto Morelos, hit some of the beach bars there.”
“No,” Angel barked, roughly grabbing my arm, yanking me away.
“Let go,” I hissed, “you are hurting me.”
He didn’t let go, he squeezed harder, his calloused fingers digging into my soft flesh so hard I worried he’d shatter my bones. I stumbled along behind him, struggling to keep up as my flip flops thwacked off the tiled floor of the resort lobby, my cheeks burning with shame, everyone’s eyes turned to us. Leo raced after me.
“Dude,” he said, planting himself in front of Angel. “She said you were hurting her.”
“And?” Angel sneered.
“And that’s not very polite.”
Jesus. Was he suicidal? Angel stepped towards him. They stood, their chests puffed out, their eyes narrowed.
“Angel, please. He asked me out, that’s it. Drinks, Angel, he asked me for drinks. You know, the kind of stuff kids my age do?”
“You’re not going.”
Angel took off again, his fingers still digging into my flesh.
“We’re meeting at eight if you change your mind,” Leo called after me.
“I hate you,” I hissed as Angel pulled me towards our private villa, “like actually hate you.”
I hated all of them. Every last member of the savage cartel. I despised being associated with them. None more so than my father himself and his insane right-hand man.
Angel shoved me through the door, locking it behind us, offering no apology for ruining my life, or scaring off the only boy who’d had the guts to speak to me. I was spending my birthday alone. In my room.
◆◆◆
The tears still dampened my cheeks as I began to give in to sleep. In bed before seven pm on the night of my eighteenth, how sad is that? Angel pottered around the lounge area, some sports match blared from the TV. There was still no sign of my father.
“I’m sleeping,” I cried, yanking the bed sheets over my head at the knocking.
In typical Angel fashion, what I said didn’t mean shit. He tapped again. And again.
“I said I’m sleeping!” I yelled.
The TV volume lowered.
“Sorry,” Angel barked.
What?
The incessant tapping started up again, quieter this time. Angel’s heavy steps thundered towards the chiller. Beer bottles gave off telling tinkles as they rattled about in his ham hands. Tap tap tap. I held my breath. Tap tap tap.
I kicked the sheet to the floor, exasperated, filled with tears again. Even the room hated me. Tap, tap fucking tap. I wanted to sleep, forget it was my birthday, slip away to a dream world where I have friends.
My feet hit the tiled floor, blissfully cold in the stifling heat, determined to find the goddamn tapping and kill it. A lizard maybe, a dripping faucet. Whatever was causing the infernal noise was going down. My father would pay for the damage, I’d be shipped off to another shrink. As if they’d ever do any good when I was forbidden to speak to them about my father or his business.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
My gaze flew to the window, following the direction of the noise.
Emerald eyes gazed back at me. Leo grinned his lopsided grin waving at me to open the window. If Angel caught him here…
“What are you doing?” I hissed easing the window open.
“Staging a daring rescue to save the exotic Princess from the terrible clutches of Gorilla Man. Come, Princess, your carriage awaits.”
“Are you insane?”
“Yup.”
Huh.
I leant out of the window, the cool sea breeze whipped around my face, goose prickles rose on my skin. No carriage. No backup.
“Angel will kill you. Or my father, whichever of them catches you first. Like literally kill you. Murder you and dispose of your body at sea.”
“I very much doubt that, Princess,” he drawled in his melting Texas accent. “Beat the crap outta me, yeah, I’d buy that, but they won’t kill a tourist for taking a girl for a drink. They won’t want the attention.”
“You don’t know my father,” I sighed.
“Nope. You’re right I don’t. But I know he’s some kind of gangster. The man slash gorilla following you around kinda gives you away. You’re not famous, you’re not a politician’s daughter, which leaves mob Princess as the only answer. I’m willing to take the risk if you are?”
“I have no money,” I hissed, yanking the window down. Leo blocked it, forcing his thick, muscular arms through the gap.
“I do. Come on, Danica, it’s your birthday and you’re alone in your room. I’m asking you out for drinks. You know, the stuff kids your age do? And I won’t take no for an answer. Promise you won’t scream?”
“What?”
His strong grip wrapped around my waist, lifting me from my feet, pulling me through the window. My heart raced, soaring to stroke-inducing levels as he whisked me away from my villa, away from Angel, the knife-wielding maniac who’d slice up his pretty face before sunrise.
“It’s just drinks, Dani,” he soothed, “promise. I’ll return you safely and not pregnant or tattooed by morning.”
Hoisted over his broad shoulders, my head hanging by his waist, he carried me across the resort grounds, smiling and laughing with passing tourists. My pleas to be returned to my room before my father noticed went ignored. To onlookers we were just another couple, playfully messing around. Normal, happy, carefree. He didn’t set me down until we were outside his room.
“Leo…”
“Dani, it’s your birthday, your eighteenth. Have some fun, let me worry about what your dad will or won’t do to me.”
“How did you know, about my birthday?”
“I’m psychic,” he grinned, “that and I was there at breakfast this morning when your dad gave you that cake and all the staff sang happy birthday in Spanish. It was kinda hard not to notice that. I decided then that I’d be taking you for birthday drinks tonight.”
Everyone around me decides what I do with my life. Leo joined their ranks. My choices don’t matter. Never have. He unlocked the door to his room, shoving me inside.
If I hadn’t been afraid before then, I was now. A loud, raucous group of American’s filled the smoky room. Music blared from an iPod dock. The Barbies crowded around a mirror, painting their faces, smearing thick, glossy lip stain over their pouting lips. This was so far removed from anything I’d ever experienced.
You’d think the daughter of a cartel boss would have a sordid life of endless parties, drugs, alcohol, sex. Not so. My father knew more than anyone the evils that could befall a teenage girl who fell in with the wrong crowd. My father was the evil that befell wayward teenage girls. He kept his own safely under lock and key. Angel escorted me to and from the private school I attended, growling at anyone who made eye contact, cementing my status as a loner. In my eighteen years of life, I’d been invited to zero parties, hadn’t kissed a single boy, or missed a curfew.
I backed into Leo, panic lacing it’s fiery grip around my chest. I didn’t belong here. A bottle of beer was shoved into my hand. The Barbies tore themselves from the mirror.
“Hi, I’m Carly. You must be Danica?”
“Yes.”
“Is that what you’re wearing?” She frowned down at my vest top and shorts. The ones I was supposed to be sleeping in.
“She needs a makeover,” Leo said, pushing me towards Carly, “we had to sneak her out of the window. I think those are her pyjamas.”
The Barbies burst into a flurry of loud, giggling activity. I was dragged to a stool, forced to stare into a mirror while the long, busty, blondes crowded around me, picking over my plain appearance. I didn’t even look like I belonged here. They were all so… American, blonde and bubbly, like the people you see on TV. I was so… different.
“You have gorgeous hair,” one pouted, combing her fingers through my thick, unruly mane. “So full, mine’s so fine and lank.”
“She’s gorgeous full stop,” Carly replied, “look at those eyes.”
Between the beer and the barrage of compliments they showered me with, I began to relax, the tension ebbed from my body, my soaring heart rate slowed. A smile began to creep over my face.
“Perfect,” Carly grinned stepping back to admire her handiwork. It would be cliche to say I didn’t recognise myself as I studied myself, cliche and wrong. I still looked like me, only more polished. My hair had been tamed into thick, glossy waves that hung over my right shoulder. Mascara lengthened my lashes, my lips were slick with a light tan gloss. They’d kept my skin clear, not painted with inches of orange tinted make-up the way some girls are. I looked good.
The nerves came back with deafening intensity when Carly handed me a red, skin-tight strapless mini dress. The exact kind of outfit my father forbade. Bad men notice women in these dresses. But my father wasn’t here. He was the bad man. A longer dress wouldn’t have saved any of the poverty stricken women he transformed into drug mules. I snatched the dress from Carly. Tonight I was a normal teenager and I was gonna dress like one, drink like one, dance like one. I might even kiss Leo. If he’ll let me.
The dress clung to every curve of my body, walking in the high, teetering shoes one of the other girls had given me wasn’t easy. Leo wrapped his arm around my waist, steadying me as we made our way out of the resort. I passed the security at the gates, breath held, my head low, expecting to be caught, escorted back to an enraged Angel.
“Relax,” Leo smiled, running his fingertips down my spine. Chills raced through me. Security waved us past, muttering sexually charged compliments at The Barbies. I ended up in a cab sandwiched between Carly and Leo. Carly’s boyfriend sat up front, chatting with the driver.
◆◆◆
We spent hours combing the beach bars, downing luridly coloured cocktails. They all laughed and joked, told me of times back home. They’d been friends for years. This trip was to celebrate their graduation from college, one last hey day before they settled into a life of responsibility, employment and paying bills. I ached to have their life. When I finally laid eyes on my father again, I’d be telling him, telling not asking, that I was heading to America to college. This is the life I wanted for myself. And I’d be damned if anything was going to stand in my way.
The group broke off into couples, Leo pulled me away from the noise of the bars. My shoes in his hand, his other arm slung over my shoulder, we walked at the water's edge, under the glittering stars of the night sky.
“Did you have a good birthday?” He asked, spinning me to face him. Our bodies only a whisper apart, I couldn’t breathe without inhaling great, dizzying lungfuls of his scent, a woody, spiced aftershave mingled with his natural musk.
“It was perfect,” I sighed, losing my train of thought as I locked onto his emerald eyes. He gazed back at me with knee trembling intensity. My whole body sparked. His hand ran down my arm.
“Are you cold?” He frowned, as he brushed the goose prickles lining my skin.
“No.”
He cupped his hand behind my head, lacing his fingers through my coiffed hair. This was it, my first ever kiss. It couldn’t be more romantic, under the stars, the tide lapping at our feet. His lips moved to mine, I closed my eyes. His breath warmed my face as he moved in, his lips scarcely brushing mine. Fireworks exploded behind in my mind. He pulled me to him, stooping down for better reach. Our lips joined. My breath escaped me. Against his chest, his muscular body hard against my soft curves, my heart pounded.
His tongue pushed into my mouth, he dropped his hand from my head, running it down my spine, his feathery touch lighting every nerve with need.
First kisses aren’t supposed to be like this. As a solitary, bookish type, I knew this from my very first YA romance novels. They were supposed to be awkward, punctuated with clashing teeth, drool and interlocking braces. Your knees aren’t supposed to weaken, your skin isn’t supposed to tingle, desire isn’t supposed to pulse through your core. You’re not supposed to open your eyes to gaze into his emerald eyes, lose yourself in their beauty.
I was swept off my feet, literally. He lowered us to the soft white sand, his arms either side of my body, caging me in his embrace, his weight holding me down, anchoring me in the sand. The cool ocean water licked at our intertwined feet. Our lips remained locked together, we explored each other for the first time.
“Are you okay?” He asked, brushing his thumbs over my flaming cheeks. Okay? I was breathless, consumed with a cacophony of unfamiliar sensations. Butterflies danced in my centre. My heart spiked. I was more than okay.
“Yes,” I whispered.
“You’re shaking.”
Was I? I hadn’t noticed. A flurry of goosebumps prickled my skin as he ran his hand the length of my smooth leg, inching towards the too-high hem of my borrowed mini-dress. His kisses lowered, moving down my neck to the curve of my shoulder, over my cleavage.
I was naked under this dress. He’d stolen me from my room, dressed for bed in my shorts and vest, nothing else. I held my breath, his hand moved under my dress, his knees pressed at my legs, easing them open. What else would be stolen tonight?
Oh, God. His hand reached my virgin mound, his thumb teased my clit, the intense sensation, confusing, my untouched nub so sensitive I was caught somewhere between pleasure and pain.
“You don’t like that?” He asked as my legs involuntarily slammed closed around his hand.
“Yes.”
I think I did.
“If you don’t want this, I can take you home but only if you promise to meet me for lunch tomorrow?”
“I want this.”
I did want this. More than wanted it, my body needed it. There might never be another chance. And I’d never meet anyone more perfect.
He hitched my dress up around my waist, lowering the neckline, it clung like a belt around my middle, exposing my breasts and virginal pussy to this Adonis.
“I want this to be perfect for you. If anything doesn’t feel good, tell me.”
This was perfect. He was perfect. My Prince charming, who rescued me from the awful grasp of Gorilla Man. I’d remember this moment forever, it would be ingrained in my mind, my happy place, somewhere I could drift off to in my dreams when reality became too harsh and unforgiving.
He nudged my thighs apart. I winced as he moved his hand back to my clit. He grazed the aching ball of nerves, running his thumb in circles around the edge. My body melted into the sand, all of the anxiety I’d been filled with ebbed away with his expert touch. Instinctively, I reached for him, wrapping my arms around his neck, steepling my fingers through his long, dirty blonde hair. He grinned down at me, my grip tightening around his neck, my fingernails raking into his scalp. My breath came in deep, hungry rasps. I struggled to fill my lungs. The intensity of the sensations running through my body tensed every muscle, my toes curled. If the pressure building in my core didn’t ease soon, I was certain I’d explode.
The hand he held my face with dropped away, fumbling with his belt. I was about to lose my virginity, to American college grad, laid under the stars. And it was perfect. This was turning out to be the best birthday I’d ever had. One doubt niggled at the back of my mind, I was falling in love, with a man I’d never see after the end of the week. He’d return to his native Texas, to the job as a construction engineer he’d secured. I’d be locked back up in my father’s compound, probably tethered to Angel for life. It was more than I could bear.
He wriggled out of his jeans, a condom gripped between his teeth.
“I didn’t plan this,” he explained. “I just want you to know that. You’re just too damn irresistible. We all carry a condom. It’s better to have one and not need one. I’m still willing to stop, no hard feelings?”
“No,” the whine that escaped my lips, pitiful and desperate with need. If he stopped I’d burst.
His thumb still ran rings around my clit, sending intense, blinding hot energy racing through me. He rolled the condom on. I kept my eyes on his. This was happening and I needed it to.
The spongy tip of his manhood pressed at my entrance, his hips rocked smoothly, easing his length inside me slowly. Oh fuck. It hurt, he stretched my tight channel, nudging in deeper with every flick of his hips. It was agonising and good, oh so good.
My back arched into the sand. He tipped his head down, running his tongue over a pebbled nipple, teasing it gently between his teeth. It was too much, too much sensation, pleasure, pain, pressure. I burst with the intensity of a million fireworks all going off at once. My sex gripped his manhood, pulsing around him. Animalistic mewls slipped from my gasping lips.
Jesus. His lips locked on mine, I came down from my high slowly, my body loose, exhausted and craving more of him all at once. He twitched inside me, his teeth clenched together, his eyes rolling into his head, spilling his seed into the condom.
I was no longer a virgin. He straightened out my dress, kissing the tip of my nose before he pulled his jeans back up. We sat under the stars, listening to the waves tumble over the sands until the sun began to peek over the horizon.
“We’d better get home before someone reports you missing,” he sighed.
“Rescue me, properly rescue me,” the words slipped unbidden from my mouth.
“Tell me what you need?”
“To go to college in America, away from my dad. I don’t know how to do it.”
“I’ll help you.”
He made me recite his email address over and over until it was burned forever into my brain. I’d apply to colleges, he’d help me find a job and accommodation, help with my application for a student visa. I was an adult now, my father didn’t need to grant his permission. He couldn’t stop me leaving, he wouldn’t be able to bring me back. That was his plan. He didn’t know my father. He’d bring me back, hunt me down until he found me, drag me back home, killing anyone who stood in my way. It was my only chance. I had to try.
◆◆◆
He walked me back to my window, still open from last night. Angel was nowhere in sight. I’d managed to get away with it.
“I’ll see you tonight?”
“Yeah.”
His flavour hung on my lips as I changed back into shorts and vest combo, hiding the dress in the bottom of my case, piling dirty laundry over the top of it.
Awake all night, my body ached, but my mind buzzed too loud to allow sleep. I headed into the lounge, praying Angel was still sleeping off his hangover.
It wasn’t Angel waiting for me. It was a nightmare. A nightmare that would haunt me forever more.