Chapter 21
No Tears Left to Cry
Gemma
THE HEAT IS too much to stand.
Even with the window open and the ceiling fan oscillating on high, there is no reprieve.
In an attempt to cool myself down, I head to my bathroom and soak a washcloth with cold water. Bending forward, I draw my hair over one shoulder and place the cloth on the nape of my neck. Rivulets of water drip down my back, but it doesn’t help.
It’s close to midnight and I can’t sleep.
Caleb and I go back to San Diego tomorrow, and I go back to being the bird in a cage. This small amount of freedom has been like a long-needed vacation, and the end can’t come fast enough.
I swipe the cloth down my throat and over my collarbone, soaking the fabric of my thin ribbed tank top. It doesn’t help.
It’s probably cooler outside than it is in here.
Caleb forbade me to open my window, but I had to. I needed the air. I understand the need to be safe. However, we’re in the middle of nowhere, and as I said, no one knows we’re here.
For once, I’m actually not on edge.
Tossing the cloth aside, I shut off the bathroom light and step into my bedroom. Just as I do, a shadow casts over the moonlight shining on the floor and before I can scream, a palm claps over my mouth, muffling my shriek.
I’m spun face-first into the wall. Feeling off-balance, I try to twist my head to peer over my shoulder, but it’s too dark to see anything.
He moves quickly, gagging me with something that feels lacey and then he quickly takes my hands and ties them behind my back with a soft fabric that I recognize as satin.
He’s been through my things.
He’s using my undergarments.
Panic erupts through my body.
I try to mule kick him, but he’s too fast and wedges one leg between my thighs before I can. “Mamma, it looks like we meet again. This time though, you aren’t getting away so easily.”
The two men from the pawnshop must have followed us. This is the younger one.
Where’s the other one?
Planning on attacking Caleb?
I have to warn him.
Using my head, I pound it into the wall, trying to make noise.
The man laughs. “It’s no use, ma'am, your hero will be dead in a matter of moments. Don’t worry, I’ll let you see him before I kill you.”
Fear is an emotion I can’t suppress.
I hear noise from the other room and know I’m too late to warn Caleb. Sorrow fills me at the knowledge.
Trapped between this man’s body and the wall, I consider my options, but before I can do anything, he hauls me backward and throws me on the bed.
Licking his lips, he tears my panties from my body and my heart stops. Time is running out. I have to do something. I have to think fast.
“We missed out on all the fun last time. I’m not letting that happen again,” he breathes.
Ice-cold fear shivers up my spine.
In any other position, I’d have leverage. But like this, I have none. He’s on top of me, securing my legs with his own, and my hands are behind my back. When he yanks at his zipper, I try helplessly to escape his hold.
“This is going to be fun,” he taunts. “I like a wild one.”
Tears leak from my eyes. I haven’t truly cried in a very long time, but I’m crying now.
For the violence.
For Caleb.
For the free will this no-good man is taking from me.
For the fallout of this heinous night. Not only will I lose the paintings, but if Enrique discovers this man has violated me, made me impure, he’ll send me packing.
That is if I live through this.
The noise in the other room fades away and I fear what that means. I squirm and wiggle to free myself, to try to help Caleb, to help myself, but get nowhere.
When my assailant reaches for his cock, I know this is it.
Oh God.
Cold settles into my bones. I shouldn’t have left the window open. Caleb told me not to.
This is my fault.
When he positions himself above me, I close my eyes. Suddenly, I hear a crack and a scream, and it isn’t my scream. My eyes snap open just as the body of my assailant falls to the ground with a thud.
I can’t figure out what is happening.
It’s too dark.
Frozen in place, I’m trembling so much, I can’t move. And then large calloused palms raise me to a sitting position. “Gemma, are you okay?” It’s Caleb, and his voice is manic.
Lips and chin quivering, I stare at him as relief rushes through me.
His hands settle on my shoulders in a caring, tender way. “Tell me you’re okay,” he says in a shaky voice. “Did he hurt you?”
Looking into his green, crazed eyes, I shake my head no. He’s alive. He. Is. Alive. He’s cut and bruised but doesn’t look badly injured.
“We need to get out of here. Now!” Using the rays of moonlight, his skilled fingers are moving, working fervently to free my mouth and then my hands.
Shock overtakes me.
We almost died.
“Come on,” Caleb urges, flipping the light on.
Mere inches from my feet lies a body. Nausea becomes a vicious knot in my stomach.
“Gemma, get your shit together,” Caleb demands.
But I can’t move. I can’t stop staring at the man with the snapped neck lying on the floor.
Memories of my mother laying on the floor, dead, my father laying on the floor, barely breathing, my brother’s betrayal, the necklace stolen . . . they all flood me. I’m shaking so badly, I still can’t move. And then I hear my own sobbing, and I can’t stop myself.
Heavy shoulders and a broad chest pin me to his torso. “Hey, it’s okay. You’re safe. We’re going to get out of here.”
I look up. “I’m sorry,” I manage.
“For what? This isn’t your fault.”
I point to the window. “Yes, it is.”
He gives the open window a quick glance. “No, this was planned. They’d have gotten in one way or another, Gemma. Now come on, we need to get out of here in case anyone heard anything.”
“We’re just going to leave?”
“Yeah, we are. Do you want to end up in a Mexican prison? Because I sure as shit don’t.”
I shake my head no and burrow into the safety of his arms. “Don’t leave me in here alone.”
“I won’t.” Stepping back, he grabs for my jeans laid over a chair and tosses them to me. Without another word, I pull them on and throw all of my things in my bag.
The living room area is a mess. Furniture turned over and broken. On the floor lies the older man, and there’s a knife plunged deep into his chest. Guttural sounds escape from his chest—small, gurgling, choking breaths.
My eyes travel over him, terror-ridden, fixing on the older man’s face. “He’s still alive. What should we do?”
“Leave him. There’s nothing anyone can do to save him.”
“But—”
“But nothing, Gemma. He came here to kill me. Kill you.”
His words are haunting.
“We need to get to the car, Gemma.”
I can’t stop looking at the dying man. “Is . . . is . . . is the knife yours?” I ask with a tremble in my voice.
Caleb grabs my wrist. “It’s his. He tried to cut my throat with it. I took it from him and we struggled. He lost.”
Oh, God, I feel sick. Inhaling slowly, I allow my lungs to fill with air and then force it out.
In a daze, I somehow make it outside. The villa grounds are dark. Not a single light on anywhere. We walk fast. Faster. Caleb’s entire body is tense.
“Something isn’t right,” he mutters.
We pass Villa Uno and I can see the parking lot. It too is dark.
“This had to be a setup.”
My mind scrambles. A setup. Carlos, from the motel? Matías Bermudez, the art dealer? Sally, his wife? Smith? Enrique? Which one would have colluded with the pawnshop men, and why?
When we reach the Range Rover, I know I should be hoping beyond hope that the artwork is still hidden beneath the floor in the cargo holder, but instead I’m thankful to be alive.
The Range Rover hasn’t been broken into, and once we’re safe inside and on the highway, Caleb chances a glance over his shoulder and then over at me. “Nothing looks out of place. They probably assumed we’d bring the pieces inside.”
It was Caleb’s idea to hide them in plain sight. At the time, I thought it was a terrible idea. Now, I’m thankful I didn’t outright object because hauling them across the hotel this late at night could have very well gotten us caught.
“Gemma? Did you hear me?”
I blink. “No, what?”
“Do you want me to pull over and check?”
I shake my head no. Right now I really don’t care about the artwork, the ten million dollars, or Enrique. I’m just thankful to be alive. “You saved my life,” I whisper into the darkness.
“That makes twice,” he says, and it’s the first time he’s openly admitted to being at Enrique’s that night so long ago.
“Tell me who you are?”
He stares straight ahead. “You know who I am.”
“Who you really are?”
Not a sound leaves his lips.
I don’t let up. “What were you doing at Enrique’s that night?”
Nothing but silence.
“Are you working for him or against him?”
Silence.
“Were you there as a test that I failed that night and just don’t know it yet?” I don’t believe this but want to be certain. I doubt Enrique would ever have let me into his life if that were true.
Caleb remains close-lipped.
“At least tell me if it’s safe to be around you?”
He sighs. “I would never hurt you.”
At that, I lean my head against the window and close my eyes.
I believe him.
I don’t have to.
I just do.
It changes nothing, but at the same time, I feel like everything has changed.
Even me.