Caden opened her eyes slowly, allowing herself the luxury of thinking that maybe it had all been an extraordinarily bad dream. But as she looked around the room, she couldn’t deny the fact that her reality hadn’t changed; she had simply gone from one dungeon to another. Well, a girl can dream.

She couldn’t help but feel like she had been duped. Under the guise of rescuing her, Gorge Antonio Ramirez, better known as Tony, had personified kindness and even chivalry. Her own knight in shining armor – except knights didn’t rescue a woman only to hold her captive somewhere else, especially after months of misrepresenting himself. The bottom fell out of her world when she learned that her rescuer was her online friend, ‘Bootsontheground’. She felt so stupid. She had been so careless, and look where it got her. She cringed when she thought of all the personal, intimate things she had shared with him during countless hours of texting. But it was all bullshit; he had obviously been planning to move on her all along.

She didn’t understand how her best friend, Diego, could allow her to be treated this way. Surely there was some sort of mix up. If he truly understood what had happened, he’d never stand for it. Of course not. He was her best friend. Somehow, she needed to get in touch with him. She would explain everything, then he would sort it all out and make Tony let her go. Simple.

Oddly enough, she hadn’t been scared when Santiago had captured her and held her against her will. After all, she knew he was a killer; he didn’t lie to her about how fucked up he was and she could respect that. But this…she couldn’t wrap her brain around it. None of it made any sense. Why had Tony Ramirez basically stalked her for months, only to keep her here against her will when his grievances were with Sinaloan cartel? Somehow, she had been dragged into a Colombian cartel war. The thought of that scared her much more than Santiago Sanchez ever had.

This was the exact reason she had made a point of not getting mixed up in cartel business at the club. It was too damn dangerous to be mixed up with organized crime. But despite everything she had done to avoid it, here she was in the middle of a huge mess.

She ventured over to the backpack Tony had allowed her to keep. She opened it and rummaged around the contents within until she found what she wanted. She carefully lifted out a small china teacup and smiled as she studied the pattern. Sunflowers. She didn’t remember ever telling Santiago that they were her favorite flowers and yet he’d bought the teacup especially for her. Something about sunflowers made her feel good—no, they made her happy.

Where are you, Santiago? And why didn’t you take me with you?

It confused the hell out of her to have such conflicting feelings for a serial killer. Santiago had been ruthlessly killing women—creating a horrifying pile of dead bodies to rot in his old well. She knew instinctively she was the only woman he’d ever kidnapped and left alive. She didn’t know why, but he had.

She had to admit she was impressed that, even though the cops couldn’t figure out who the serial killer was, the Colombian cartel had. It spoke to just how much danger she was in right now.

The sound of keys jangling on the other side of the door pulled her from her thoughts. Her heart leapt at the prospect of human contact. Maybe Diego was coming to get her out of here. Surely, he wasn’t going to let them keep her here—whoever they were.

She looked up to see Tony standing there with a tray of food. She met his penetrating gaze without flinching. His hazel eyes, sandy brown hair, and five o’clock shadow combined to remind her just how good-looking he was.

“Are you just going to stare at me, or are you going to take this tray of food?”

Her cheeks suddenly felt hot. She reached out, snatching the tray from him and sitting down on the cot with it in her lap. He seemed perplexed when she closed her eyes and silently prayed before she started eating.

“So, Tony…do you feel good about holding me here?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “Or do you feel guilty?”

“I don’t feel guilty about anything I’ve ever done. Do you feel guilty about letting a serial killer slip through our fingers without being held accountable for his sins? You should. If you know where he is and you don’t tell me, then any blood he sheds from here on out is on your hands.”

She spooned some of the beans and rice in her mouth, unaffected by his words. “Really. Interesting. I was under the impression you were wooing me so you could fuck me, Boots, not lure Santiago out of hiding. You’re the liar, not me.” She pointed the fork in his direction, stabbing at the air.

“I don’t think you understand how much trouble you’re in. I’m the only thing keeping you alive.”

“Okay. I’ll bite. Who wants to kill me?”

“Not want—will. My father and uncle are convinced you know where Santiago is. They think he’s coming back for you.”

“So, you’re using me to lure Santiago out of hiding. That’s so fucked up, Tony. And to think, I kind of liked you. Now? Not so much.”

He studied her as she poured water into the china cup.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Santiago gave it to me.”

He gestured for her to give it to him. She clutched it in her fingers as she frantically shook her head. “You can’t have it. It’s mine.”

Her reaction troubled him and confirmed what he already suspected: she was suffering from Stockholm syndrome. She felt a misguided allegiance to a serial killer. Yeah, he’d done the right thing by keeping her here.

He lunged for her and took the teacup out of her hand. Time to make things clear. “You’re in my house now,” he stated calmly. “I refuse to have you possess anything another man gave you. You think I’m trying to use you to lure that son of a bitch out of hiding, but I’m trying to save you.”

“I don’t need you or any other man to save me.”

His face was so close to hers she could feel his warm breath on her skin. Nothing could have prepared her for what he did next when he pulled her close and whispered in her ear, “You’re mine now. You’ll drink from the cup I give you and eat from the plate I bring you. It’s called deprogramming for a reason; any bonding you do will be with me now. As far as you’re concerned, Santiago Sanchez no longer exists; he’s dead to you. The sooner you get that through your head, the better off you’ll be.”

“You can’t make me bond with you by holding me here against my will.”

“Why can’t I? Santiago did, and I can assure you I’ll treat you a hell of a lot better than he ever did. You’ve got no choice. If you think I’m going to let you go so that bastard can come get you, you’re wrong. Don’t worry, baby, I’ll grow on you.”

“Fuck you,” she screeched, barely able to stop herself from scratching his eyes out.

“All good things in due time.”

She frowned at him in disbelief as he picked up the untouched tray, placed her beloved teacup on it, and walked out. The door closed behind him and the key turned in the lock. What she didn’t understand was why she felt so fucking lonely when that door closed.