As I pulled up the circular drive that graced the entrance of the Cordova’s mission style mansion, I spotted Ramón’s brother Diego waiting for me at the black wrought iron and weathered oak front doors. Dressed in a pair of pale khaki pants, shiny and no doubt expensive black shoes, and a tailored heather gray cotton button up shirt, he looked like he belonged in a men’s magazine ad selling expensive watches. While Ramón had more of a rugged quality to his good looks, Diego’s face was more sculpted, his lips thinner and his nose more hawkish.

After I got out of the car, Diego quickly made his way over to me then stopped with a small half-bow, his long black braid falling over his shoulder. “Madam.”

“Hi, Diego.”

Clutching my hand in his, he gave me a teasing grin, then sighed. “You know my name.”

I couldn’t help but laugh while tugging my hand back. “Of course I do.”

“My life is complete.” His phone rang and he gave me an exasperated look. “Excuse me for a moment,” he murmured before pulling out his phone. He told someone on the other end that I was there, with him, and I was fine.

When he hung up, I arched a brow and asked, “Ramón?”

Diego nodded then opened the front door of the house. Cool air from inside rushed over us smelling faintly of flowers and spice. “Good guess.”

A little shiver ran over me as we left the heat of the day behind and entered the silent coolness of the mansion. The foyer was large, two story, and a variety of hallways branched off it. Bright and bold art hung from the walls, while a huge red, white, and black Navajo rug muffled our footsteps as we crossed the circular space to one of the hallways. Family pictures adorned the walls and I had to keep myself focused on Diego, when all I wanted to do was stop and check out pictures of Ramón when he was a kid.

Giving Diego a distracted smile, I fiddled with my purse. “I’m sorry, he’s a little overprotective.”

“I’ve never seen him like this with a woman before,” Diego grinned at me again and this time his face held a trace of real warmth. “It’s been fun watching him drive himself crazy over you. Never thought I’d see Ramón this obsessed with anyone.”

“He’s not obsessed with me.”

“He’s totally obsessed. Never seen him like this with a girl before. Joy and Ramón, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G. First—”

I gave him a hard shove with my shoulder. “Shut it.”

Diego started to hum the wedding march while I sighed.

I secretly liked the idea that Ramón didn’t have a habit of sweeping women off their feet. “We’ve only known each other a few days. I’m sure as soon as he gets to know me, he’ll be running for the hills.”

“Yeah, I don’t see that happening. Welcome to the family.”

His words caused me to stumble on the edge of a carpet. He grabbed my elbow, helping me steady myself as I glared at him. “You’re all crazy.”

The smug smile that he gave me was just like Ramón’s. “Ask my mom about the legend of the first kiss.”

Rolling my eyes, I spotted Mrs. Cordova approaching us with a tight smile. Wearing a retro bronze dress that would have been perfect on Jacki-O, she looked like a million bucks. But…something about her seemed off. Her dark eyes were as emotionless glass doll eyes. Then, like a switch flipping, she smiled and the ominous air left her like mist burning off in the morning sun. The change was so quick I wondered if I’d imagined it as she gathered me into a warm hug.

“Joy, it’s so good to see you.”

Pulling back, I brushed aside my worries into my increasingly full mental box labeled ‘shit to deal with later.’

“It’s nice to see you as well, Mrs. Cordova.”

“Please, call me Judith.” She slowly scanned me then frowned, her large ruby ring flashing as she gestured to my face. “You’ve been crying.”

“I—”

Before I could say anything, Diego quickly spoke up. “Ramón was his usual charming self. No big deal, right, Joy?”

Put on the spot, I tried to find my backbone as they both stared at me, each seemingly trying to read my thoughts through sheer will alone. “Uh, yeah.”

Her peach-frosted lips thinned. “What did my son do?”

Diego started to speak again, but she held up her hand in an imperious gesture that silenced him. “I was speaking with Joy.”

“Really, it’s no big deal.” Her creepy vibe was back, and I quickly tried to defuse the situation. “There was a misunderstanding on my part, but I talked with Ramón and cleared it up. Look, I’m really here to see Hannah. I don’t care if she’s sleeping. I won’t disturb her, but I have to see her. She’s…well, she’s pretty much my sister, and I’m worried about her.”

Diego and Judith exchanged a glance before she turned back to me, her expression serious, but somehow kind.

Jesus, this woman was giving me emotional whiplash with how quickly her moods changed.

“Come with me, mija. Let’s sit down and talk about this.”

I followed her into a large living area with cathedral ceilings. The walls of the room were a beautiful sky blue with a border of shimmering copper leaf that matched the blown glass table lamps. Two enormous distressed brown leather couches sat in the center of the room, and to my right, a carved black marble fireplace dominated the wall. Judith sat on the couch, then patted the space next to her.

“Please, have a seat.”

I did as she asked, as far away from her as I could without being offensive.

Her shark stare was back and it made the hair on the back of my neck prickle.

“What’s up?”

Diego sat across from us and absently moved his braid from behind his back so it lay over his shoulder. I couldn’t read his face, but I did notice the way one of his fingers tapped out a nervous rhythm on the cushion next to him. His tapping finger stilled and I looked away, refocusing my attention on Judith.

Sliding down the couch, Judith took my stiff hand in her own. “Hannah sustained some serious injuries from the attack.”

My stomach bottomed out, and I felt dizzy. “What? You said she was all right.”

“She is,” Diego interrupted. “But she looks bad, really bad, and she knows it.”

“And,” Judith added in a tense voice, “She isn’t handling things very well.”

“For fucks sake,” I snapped, my temper sparking as fear for my friend made my heart race. “Stop pussyfooting around and tell me what’s wrong with her.”

“She’s suffering from PTSD,” Judith said and squeezed my hand tight. “Her mental state is very fragile. If I can convince her to see you, I must have your word that you won’t do or say anything to upset her—and understand, I can’t force her to see you. She needs time to heal, to deal with things on her own, and I promised her she’d have it.”

I wanted to cry, but I smoothed the shimmering cream silk skirt of my dress then nodded. “Okay. But she’s all right?”

She relaxed a little bit, and her grip on my hand lessened. “She’ll be fine, she just needs some time to heal.”

Worried she was all alone with virtual strangers, knowing her parents wouldn’t give a shit, I asked, “Is Leo with her?”

“Yes.” Judith let out a soft huff. “He won’t leave her side unless we drag him away.”

I may have been stupidly jealous of him in the past, but I was grateful he was with Hannah. I know he loved her just like I did and would keep her safe.

Judith stood and Diego followed suit. “Let me go check on Hannah and see how she’s doing. I may be gone for a bit, so feel free to entertain yourself.”

I reached into my purse and pulled out my phone. “No problem, I’ve got a ton of books to read on my phone. Please, take your time.”

After they left, I sent off a series of text messages to my family, letting them know my new address and sending my mom pictures of Mark’s house. She worried about me staying with a strange man, even if his intentions were honorable. I’m hoping the pictures will help her relax once she realizes how nice Mark’s place is, and how big. My dad had evidently had a long talk with Mark at some point, not that anyone had told me about it, and seemed to think I was in good hands.

Licking my lips, I hesitated while texting with Winter, my younger sister, who was a senior in high school. Usually, I was pretty honest and open with her. We’d giggle about sex and the guys I was dating, but talking with my bubbly seventeen year old sister about Ramón wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t even know how to describe what was going on between us. He seemed so…into me, but we were strangers.

Shit, I wondered if he was a stage-five clinger like Hannah.

As soon as I had the thought, I dismissed it with a soft laugh. Of all the things Ramón appeared to be, needy wasn’t one of them. Then again, he did like to micro-manage my life, but that was more a control issue than a dependency one. I’m not the kind of girl that usually likes any guy thinking he can tell me what to do, but I hadn’t put up much of a fight when he’d assigned me a bodyguard without my knowledge, had me followed, and showed up uninvited into my bed every night. Arguing with a man about buying me fabulous clothes, making sure all my needs were taken care of, and basically spoiling me seemed kind of petty and stupid when I thought about it.

The memory of being held in his arms, the warmth of his embrace as he slowly kissed me, spread through my limbs in a rush of pleasant tingles.

A pungent, but familiar scent made my nose twitch and I looked up from catching up on social media to find a man that looked like a strung-out version of Diego staring at me. He was disheveled, his soft blue dress shirt sloppily buttoned and stained, and instead of long hair, his was cut almost painfully short. A thick and scraggly beard covered his square jaw, and his dark eyes were ringed with the black circles of exhaustion as he squinted, then stared at me. A half full bottle of tequila was gripped in his right hand, and a burning joint in his left.

Fernando. My heart gave a hard thump as I realized this was the brother who’d lost both his son and wife in a horrible car accident. Ramón had said something about how Fernando was staying with his parents while he grieved. Empathy filled me and it took all my willpower to hold myself in check. He didn’t need my tears, even if my whole chest ached for him.

“I know you,” he slurred.

Trying to act as normal as possible, I stood and gave a small wave. “Hi, I’m Joy. Hannah’s friend. You must be Fernando.”

When I said Hannah’s name, he winced then took a hit off the joint. As he blew the smoke out, he said, “No, I know you. You’re Ramón’s girl.”

“Something like that.”

“No.” He stabbed the joint in my direction, his arm shaking. “You’re his. He watches you. You belong to him now. God fucking help you.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Gonna be a sheep.” His voice wavered, and I stared at him, stunned when tears filled his eyes. “Hannah’s a sheep, and her shepherd did a piss poor job protecting her.”

When I called Ramón and Diego crazy, I was half-kidding.

When I called Fernando crazy, I meant it one hundred percent. The death of his family had broken him, it was as clear as day to me. When I was younger, my favorite cousin killed herself after she was viciously bullied by some girls at her school. I’d known she was going through some stuff with them, but I was dealing with my older sister at the time—and like most kids, I was more worried about myself. I’ve wished a billion times I could somehow turn back the clock and do things differently, but that isn’t how the world works. The only thing I could do was make sure that if I ever saw someone that looked the way my cousin had in the last few days before she took her life, this time I would step in. Not just for her, but for the scared kid I’d been who prayed someone would help her.

That promise gave me the strength to close the distance between myself and Fernando. He stumbled back, but before he could fight me off, I took the bottle from his limp fingers and grabbed the joint. Unsure what to do with it, I spied a vase of fresh tulips and shoved it down inside, putting the ember out with the water. Fernando was making some kind of protesting mumble behind me, but I ignored him.

I set the bottle down on the table next to the vase, then faced Fernando.

Whoa boy, was he mad I’d taken his toys away.

Lean, wiry muscle flexed in his arms as he fought to focus on me. He took a step in my direction, a low growl spilling out of his throat. I might have been scared, if he didn’t trip over his own feet and fallen face first into the rug.

Thankfully, some primitive part of his brain made him put his arms out so he didn’t smash his face, but he still fell with an undignified grunt.

Making sure I didn’t flash him, I tucked my skirt beneath my legs and crouched down next to him. “Wow, nice landing. You okay?”

“Shut up, Queen of the Sheeple,” he muttered then rolled over, throwing his arm over his eyes with a dramatic groan. “I’m gonna puke.”

I moved back quickly, trying not to laugh at his pathetic groans. “Dude, I wouldn’t. I have a feeling your mom would be pissed if you did.”

“Cut my nuts off,” he muttered. “S’okay. Don’t need ‘em anyways.”

“Right. I bet when you’re sober, you might feel a little differently.” I sighed as I stared at him lying there.

“Fuck you, sheep girl. Too stupid to see that you’re wandering into the slaughterhouse.”

“What?”

He muttered something in Spanish, then growled, “Run, stupid sheep, before my brother leads you to the slaughter.”

Wondering what his obsession with sheep was, I grabbed his hand then tugged with a grunt. “Get up.”

“Fuck off.”

Despite his gaunt appearance, he weighed a ton. “I’m trying to help you get to the bathroom.”

“Just let me die.”

“No.”

“Why is it always no?” he suddenly roared, his bloodshot eyes wide and glassy. “Why? Just let me fucking die already.”

The sheer desperation in his voice took the strength from my legs, and I sank down to my knees beside him. “Because they love you.”

“If they loved me, they would let me be with Jason. I miss him…fuck, every second of every minute of every day, I ache to hold him just one more time.”

I reached out and gripped his hand with my own, tears pouring down my face as my nose burned. Sometimes, you can’t say anything to make it better. Sometimes the only thing you can do is let them know they aren’t alone. At first, he tried to pull away, but after a moment, he turned his hand so our fingers laced together. His breath came out in choking sobs as he curled in on himself, and I wiped the back of my arm across my face, wishing I could do something to make it better.

“I’m sure you’ll see your wife and son in heaven.”

He let out a mad cackle then, one that had goosebumps breaking out on my arms. “That puta is burning in hell.”

What the heck did I say to that?

He glared at me through swollen eyes, the flicker of madness now a full out roar of flames. “I hope she spends every minute in unending pain. I hope she’s spends eternity burning for her sins. You should hate her, too. She’s the reason you’re a sheep.”

“I-I don’t understand,” I leaned back, my mouth dry as I stared at him.

“They only told you lies,” he hissed. He grabbed my hand again and squeezed it so hard it hurt. “The truth is he died because of her.”

I blinked a couple times, my brain officially shorting out from a combination of fear and confusion. With a yelp of pain, I jerked my hand away and clutched it to my chest as tears clogged my throat. Fernando had pushed himself up by this point, his handsome features stretched tight with anger. I was suddenly aware of what a vulnerable position I was in, how much bigger he was than me, and fear soured my stomach as I gracelessly scrambled away from him like a crab until I got to my feet. Putting the couch between us, I held my hands out.

“Please, don’t hurt me.”

I didn’t mean to say that, but panic was eroding my usual self-control. I hated how I could feel my body gearing up to freak out. Normally, I’m good in situations like this, could defuse tension and regain control, but my faith in myself had been broken by my attacker’s fists. Now, I feared a shattered man too drunk to even stand straight. Frowning, he held out his hand and took an unsteady step in my direction.

“I would never hurt a woman.” His grin turned malicious, and I shuddered. “Wait, I’d kill my fucking dead wife over and over again, if I could. Wish my mom had waited. Would have loved to slit her throat myself.”

“Leave me alone,” I screamed, terrified by his drunk and stoned homicidal ramblings.

He staggered back like I’d slapped him, banging into a lovely table and sending the lamp on it tumbling to the ground with an angry crash, the blown glass base shattering against the stone floors in a spray of bronze and turquoise shards.

“Fuck,” he sank down to his knees and started trying to gather the pieces of glass while his head bobbed and weaved.

The thought ‘he could hurt himself’ managed to penetrate the fear devouring my mind, and I moved to stop him before he hurt himself.

I was too late. By the time I reached him, he’d sliced his finger good.

Blood dripped onto the carpet in steady drops, making my stomach churn.

Fernando didn’t seem to notice the wound, and kept trying to clean the glass up.

“Stop,” I shouted, then grabbed his hand. “Shit, Fernando, you really hurt yourself. Shit, shit, shit. It’s bleeding pretty bad. I think you need stitches.”

He turned melancholy eyes to me, and I saw that once again I was dealing with the gentle, broken Mr. Hyde side of his split personality instead of the insane and raging Dr. Jekyll. “Let me die.”

“Oh, for fucks sake, we’re back to this again?” I huffed as I pulled him away from the mess, elevating his hand while drag walking him over to a nearby chair. “Look, let’s save another tedious round of woe is me and keep you from bleeding all over your mom’s stuff.”

He grunted then slurred, “She hates that.”

“I don’t blame her. And you got blood on this crazy expensive dress that Ramón got me. Do you know how hard it is to get blood out of this kind of fabric? Might as well turn it into an eight-hundred-dollar cleaning rag now, because I look like I played the part of ‘Carrie’ in my high school’s musical.”

“Not that hard to get blood out of silk.”

Rolling my eyes, I held his bleeding hand up. “Seriously? Trust me, buddy, it is.”

He hissed as I tried to look at his cut. “You scrub a lot of blood, sheep?”

“I’m not a sheep. I’m a woman, and we bleed once a month and often it just comes out of nowhere. I’m not going to throw away my favorite underwear because Aunt Flow decided to show up in the middle of a class. You learn to keep those little stain remover wipes in your purse at all times. Never know when you’ll need to clean up a crime scene in your panties.”

He visibly paled. “I did not need to hear that shit.”

“Oh, grow up.”

From across the room, a woman suddenly screamed, “Madre Dios!”

I turned to find Juanita, an older Hispanic woman with steel grey hair pulled back in a braid, standing at the entrance to the room with her hands over her mouth in obvious shock. We’d met last time I was here, and she seemed really sweet and nice. When she’d found out I spoke Spanish, she’d been overjoyed and nearly talked my ear off while making lunch for myself and Mrs. Cordova. I gave her a weak smile as she stared at us in horrified shock.

Glancing at Fernando’s hand, which continued to drip blood like a leaky faucet, I realized my hand and arm were covered in his blood as well, making it look like a scene out of a horror movie.

“He’s okay!” I yelled first in English, then in Spanish. “He accidentally broke the lamp then cut himself trying to clean it up. I think he’s going to need stitches.”

Diego, looking chagrined, tried to pull his hand away from mine, scowling when I tightened my grip and lifted his arm higher. “I don’t need stitches. Leave me alone, sheep.”

Juanita leapt into action, saying something into a small black phone before rushing over to our side. She grabbed a navy and white throw blanket from the back of the couch, then took Diego’s hand from me, blotting at it while hissing threats in Spanish. Diego, the little shit, actually rolled his eyes at me as the old woman fussed over his hand.

“Shit, Juanita, calm down. I’m fine. This is nothing.”

With obvious worry in her voice, Juanita scolded him like he was a little boy, “I swear to you, Mr. Fernando, if you don’t start taking care of yourself I’m going to…well, I don’t know what I’m going to do, but it will be bad. You hear me? Bad.”

The door swung open again and Diego strode in with Judith close on his heels. They both stopped when they caught sight of Juanita and myself trying to take care of Fernando, and I waited for Judith to freak out. Instead, she frowned at me and a chill raced down my spine.

Her voice was as cold as dry ice as she said, “What happened?”

The words dried up in my mouth, but thankfully Juanita spoke up. “Mrs. Cordova, Mr. Fernando accidentally knocked over a lamp, then cut himself trying to clean it up.”

“Joy,” Mrs. Cordova snapped, making me jump. “Are you hurt?”

“No,” I stammered while trying to find my backbone around this super intimidating woman.

Diego crossed the room in our direction, his expression dark and grief-filled as he knelt next to his twin. His sleek black braid fell over his shoulder as he tried to catch his brother’s eye, but Fernando ignored him. With them together, the resemblance was uncanny except Fernando looked like someone dying of some exotic tropical disease, and Diego radiated good health.

Mrs. Cordova nailed me to the carpet with her deadly shark gaze. “Then why are you covered in blood?”

“I was trying to elevate Fernando’s hand. I thought I remembered from my CPR training class that you were supposed to do that. I also remember my mom, she’s a nurse, did it with my sister when she fell off her bike and onto a piece of glass hidden in the dirt. It was really gross.” I looked down at my hands, solid red as if I’d dipped them into paint. “Actually, now that I think about it, this is really gross. I don’t…feel so good.”

The metallic coppery scent of his blood seemed to saturate the air around me, and I started to become dizzy and nauseous.

My stomach pitched, and a harsh sweat broke out over me as revulsion made my skin itch. Blood, there was so much blood covering my hands. It reminded me of all the blood I’d shed during the beating, of the blood welling from Hannah’s cut lip. I could almost taste it and little black dots danced on the edges of my vision. Just like that my heart started to race and sweat prickled down my back as my vision began to dim.

“Catch her,” Judith yelled before someone cradled me in their arms and eased me down to the sofa.

My heart was racing, and I closed my eyes, willing myself to keep the contents of my stomach under control. For some reason, the idea of puking all over myself or this room because of the sight of blood was beyond embarrassing. Normally, I had no problem with bodily fluids, my mom called me her junior nurse, but that red liquid now represented something different than the stuff that flowed through our veins. It seemed to trigger unwanted memories of that night. The smell of the coppery blood hit me again and again with each breath, but I forced myself to stop panting.

Someone elevated my feet, but I kept my eyes closed as slight tremors started in my hands and worked up my arms.

Vaguely, I was aware of Judith berating Fernando, but I didn’t really pay them any attention.

At the moment, every bit of everything I had was dedicated to staying conscious.

It wasn’t until something cold and wet enveloped my hands that I opened my eyes, and found Diego cleaning my fingers off with a wet handkerchief. A look of concern furrowed his brow. “You okay?”

“I’m sorry, I’m not usually like this. It’s just the smell of the blood…it reminds me of that night. I get flashbacks.” The shaking got worse, and I loathed the fact that tears were filling my eyes, exposing my weakness. “Really, I’m okay. I’m fine.”

Diego stopped cleaning my hands, and instead held them in his own. “Of course, you are. You’re here now, with me, and I’d take a bullet for you, kid. Want me to get you a drink?”

Taking an unsteady breath, I shook, hating having to depend on anyone. “I’m fine. Really. I just needed a second.”

Mrs. Cordova said something in a hissing whisper and Fernando groaned, “Jesus, Mom, take it easy.”

I felt well enough to gently tug my hands from Diego and sit up so I could look over at Fernando.

He was trying to pull his hand away from Mrs. Cordova, who was making little hissing noises through her teeth. “You’re lucky you didn’t cut a tendon, idiot son of mine. And you’re bleeding so much because your blood is more tequila than plasma. Thank goodness Joy was here to help you.”

He lifted his bloodshot eyes to mine, and I tried to see if I was dealing with sad but nice Fernando or asshole Fernando.

He snorted, “Yeah, real fucking lucky Ramón’s pet whore was here fo—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the crack of flesh meeting flesh rang through the room as Mrs. Cordova slapped him across the face.

“You will not talk about your future sis—” Her gaze cut to me then back to Fernando, who was rubbing his cheek with a scowl with his good hand. “You will not talk to a young lady that way in my home, Diego. No matter how much you’re hurting inside, you have no right to lash out at her. She’s a good girl, and she doesn’t deserve such abuse.”

“You’re right; she is a good girl.” He sat up and met my gaze, ignoring Juanita while she treated his hand with stuff from a First Aid kit at her feet. “Which is why you need to run, Joy. Run as fast and as hard away from here as you can and never look back, before it’s too late. Ramón, this whole family, is going to chew you up and spit you out. We bring death to the innocent, hurt those we love. Just ask Leo. He broke his little doll, and now she hates him, but there’s no escape for her.”

“Diego,” Judith snapped. “Take Joy to the bathroom so she can wash up. Now.”

Diego did as she commanded, hustling me out of the room so fast, I almost fell twice. I looked over my shoulder as Juanita stared at Judith while she said something to Fernando too low for me to hear, her face filled with grief. I tugged at my hand, trying to slow Diego down, but he pulled me after him like I was some reticent child.

Looking like death warmed over, Fernando lurched to his feet then yelled as Diego hurried me away, “Run, little sheep, run!”