“Oh my god, I can’t do it, I can’t do it. Get me off this pony, it’s like riding a mountain!” I drop the reins and clap one hand over my eyes.

Anna laughs and pats my thigh reassuringly. “Oh get on with you, he’s only a midget. I promise I won’t let go of his bridle until you say it’s ok.”

“I don’t believe you. You’ve been dying to see me land on my ass ever since kindergarten.”

My friend laughs again. “Well, I wouldn’t put it quite like that… It’s so good to see you back in the saddle, Evie,” she adds quietly. Her voice has taken on that husky, affectionate tone that tells me she’s been missing the old Eve as much as I have these past five years.

It’s good to be back.

I glance down at my other hand, the one that’s clutching handfuls of wiry black hair belonging to a fat pony called Rufus.

“Don’t worry so much señorita,” yells Manuel from the other side of the fence. “That pony’s so slow… He’s a snooze button!”

Great. Even he’s laughing at me.

“You’re not helping, Manuel,” I giggle, losing my composure as the pony stamps a foot and swishes his tail angrily at the flies swarming around his flank.

Picking up the reins again, I take a steadying breath as I drive my weight down into my heels, keeping them as snug to Rufus’ belly as I can. He’s the oldest, most dependable rescue pony at the animal sanctuary where Anna works so why does it feel like I have a Porsche between my legs? Still, I’m doing it; I’m taking risks. I’m learning to embrace life again.

It’s been six weeks since I returned to America. Six weeks since I was deposited on the tarmac at Miami-Opa Locka Executive Airport with only the dirty, white clothes I was dressed in, more than twice the length of time I spent as his lover. Six long, agonizing weeks of no contact, of few highs and bone crushing lows, of unbearable solitude and feverish longing, to a deception on a scale I never dreamt I was capable of.

Once again I’ve lied through my teeth to the authorities, painting a picture of Dante Santiago with every contradictory description I could think of. I’ve shocked myself with my own ingenuity. With no clues as to where I was being held and no outward signs of rape or abuse, they’re growing weary of my case already. I’m home, I’m safe, I’m not outwardly traumatised. More importantly, I’m showing them a readiness to put the whole episode behind me and to get on with my life, and they seem willing to acquiesce to my request to allow me to do so.

As if I could erase him from my mind so easily.

He’s the man who has filled my life with every color and emotion. He’s my first waking thought and the last, flawless image in my head when I close my eyes at night. He haunts my nights, he plagues my nightmares. In the first flush of dawn I swear I can feel his strong arms wrapped around me, his rich scent soothing away my loneliness. I wake from dreams so sexual and intense that I throb for hours and hours before seeking my own release. His name is the only one I cry when my fingers finally tip me into the void.

A deep whicker from Rufus snaps me out of my reverie. With renewed gusto, I squeeze his generous girth with my heels and click noisily with my tongue. “Walk on boy.”

“Ok, I’m letting go,” I hear Anna say.

“Do it!”

A thrilling blast of joy hits my senses as I kick Rufus into a slow trot, sliding effortlessly into his two-step rhythm, posting exactly how I remembered. Every action and movement comes flooding back to me as I angle his head to the outer path of the arena and complete a full circle before tugging him back to a walk, red-faced and breathless from my exertions.

“You did it!” Manuel hoots, his handsome face creasing into another grin as I pass him by. I return his smile and brush the tip of my whip against my jockey cap in a mock salute.

I thank Dante everyday for insisting Manuel accompany me back to America as my bodyguard. To say I was surprised was an understatement. Dante is a deeply possessive man. The decision would have tested him greatly but it shows a level of trust in me too. It shows how far we’ve come.

Manuel kept his head down and his mouth shut whilst I cried for hours and hours on that plane journey home. Afterwards he’d quietly moved to the seat next to me and placed his hand over mine. That simple gesture cemented something between us. Now he’s as close a friend to me as Anna. He’s so easygoing and everybody adores him, including my parents. Still, I die a little more inside every time I catch them chatting together.

Knowing what I do about him.

Knowing whom he works for.

In the last few weeks my betrayal of my family has sprouted dark roots and infiltrated every part of my life. No one would ever suspect that Manuel is a trained killer, hired and coordinated by Dante Santiago himself. He kept his story modest, like he’d been instructed to, and I corroborated every detail. Just another abductee, same as me, set free by a faceless stranger and dumped in an airport. Dante provided him with a fake passport, ID and visa and they all checked out fine. There was nothing to suggest he was anything other that who he said he was, but we know, because he’s a constant reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows.

Somehow it’s easier to ignore the security detail observing my every move, those five, scary-looking men who blend seamlessly into my everyday life. On the odd occasion I catch a glimpse of a familiar car or a surly expression and then they’re gone. These men are as discreet as they are intimidating.

“Take him round one more time, Evie,” Anna shouts. She’s standing in the middle of the arena smiling encouragingly at me.

I squeeze Rufus’ belly with my heels again and grit my teeth when I feel my underworked muscles ache all the way from my hip right down to my ankle. I’d forgotten what a demanding workout horseback riding could be. The only exercise I’ve done in the last few months has been sexual, and even though Dante was relentless in his appetite, taking me for hours each night and again several times during the day, I still feel unfit. I decide to start back at the gym first thing tomorrow as I spur Rufus on for a second loop of the arena.

Is he still alive?

I finally screwed up the courage to ask Manuel that question last night but he just shrugged his shoulders. We’re locked into this hideous waiting game now with no fixed time frame and no respite. All contact has been forcibly severed until the target has been destroyed.

Just then a car backfires in the car park next to the arena. Rufus throws up his head with a grunt and goads his old legs into a canter. My body adapts quickly to this new rhythm as I deepen my seat and loosen the reins to give him his head. The cold air slices against my skin and whips my fringe back and I feel my grin stretching from ear to ear.

Back at the barn I remove Rufus’ tack and Manuel helps me rub him down. As he bends over to reach the pony’s underbelly I catch a glimpse of the gun concealed underneath beneath his grey shirt. I run my fingers along Rufus’ mane and pat his broad shoulder absent-mindedly.

“Manuel, did you know Dante was in the US army?”

He hesitates before answering. “I heard rumors señorita but it was never my place to pry.”

“How did you first meet him?”

“Many years ago. My mother was a maid in his father’s house.” I watch his face shutting down all emotion. Dante does the same thing whenever he finds the topic of conversation disagreeable. He runs the cloth down Rufus’ flank and then ducks under his neck to join me, throwing the cloth over the stall door. “I was just a small boy at the time. Mamá would bring me to work some days and let me play in the yard. Dante was much older, more a man by then, but he always used to stop and ask after my family. He always remembered who I was.” He smiles slightly at the memory.

“What was his father like?”

“A hard man señorita,” he says grimly. “Cruel… like his eldest son. Their mother died when Señor Dante was sixteen. I was six at the time. He left Colombia soon after.”

“What did she die of?”

Manuel sighs and runs his hand through his hair, leaving it a dark, disheveled mess. “Señor Dante warned me you’d be inquisitive.”

“I want to know everything, Manuel. I want to try and understand his motives for doing what he does.”

“Is this for one of your articles?” he enquires slyly.

I shake my head. “I would never expose Dante like that. Anyway I can’t, I resigned from my job last month. I hate what he does but I can’t justify writing about the narcotics industry anymore…” I trail off, feeling depressed suddenly. “Do you think my silence is the same as me endorsing it?”

“We are not all bad men,” says Manuel gently. “For some of us it’s a way of existing, a way of providing for our families.”

“But the affects on other families are devastating.” I’m not buying that argument for a second. “You had a good job, a decent, honest job. Why turn away from it?”

“Because when Señor Santiago asks for something you don’t refuse…”

“Hey, what are you two whispering about?”

Anna exits the feed room at the far end of barn and makes her way over to us. I watch her glance at Manuel and then slide her gaze away. I swear she has a crush on him. In turn, I watch him rake his eyes over her killer body as she unties the knot in Rufus’ lead rein and leads him into his stall. With her long blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and her golden tan bringing out the sexy, green hue in her eyes my best friend is undeniably gorgeous. A shard of jealousy pierces my heart. I miss him so much. Beautiful, dangerous, sophisticated, controlled… There isn’t a man alive that comes close to Dante Santiago.

Please god, I know he belongs in hell but just keep him alive for me.

“I think we should celebrate.” Anna’s silky voice floats out from the stall.

“Celebrate what?”

“Your successful return to the saddle, of course,” she grins, reappearing in the doorway. “First horses, now mojitos.” She takes one look at my face and rolls her eyes. “Don’t give me that look, Evie Miller, I haven’t seen you touch a drop of alcohol for years. I want to see you loosen up a little. We used to tear up that dance floor together back in college. What d’ya say?”

“Oh why the hell not,” I sigh.

“Atta girl! Do you dance, Manuel?” Her voice takes on a suggestive undertone as she turns to address him.

Could you be anymore obvious Anna?

“A little,” he shrugs, trying hard to suppress a smile.

“That settles it then.” Her green eyes are glittering with triumph. “The place I work nights has a great cocktail deal on. I can get us free entry too.” She steps out of the stable and checks her watch. “We better get going, we only have three hours.”

“Three hours for what?” I say sounding mystified.

“To make ourselves queens of the dance floor, silly. And I have just the dress for you…”