Tony had watched the women’s progress from the hole in the ground to the second floor through his binoculars. The security around de Velazquez’s place was nearly impenetrable, but once Tony knew which room Grace McIntyre was taken to, he could zap the nearest cameras and hopefully get her out. Guards were interspersed throughout the grounds, but their rounds were only performed after dark. During the day, they remained stationary, which would prove useful when he grabbed Grace.

After a quick sweep of the nearest guards, he returned his magnified gaze to the bedroom window where Grace had been taken and watched silently as she conversed with the two women. Either she spoke Spanish or one of them spoke English. When Grace walked into the bathroom, he shifted his position so he could see into the window there, but it was too small for a possible view or escape. The woman was tall and athletically built, not a six-year-old. Cursing internally, he returned to the bedroom and contemplated the best window to access and get her out.

The two women chatted as they waited for Grace, who took her time in the shower. He couldn’t blame her. His intel had revealed she’d been kept in a basement cell without running water for nearly a week. She was filthy, and she had been beaten more than the couple of hits he’d seen on the film. But to his surprise, when she walked through the doors of the basement, her head was high and her gait sure, even if it was a little slow, probably due to soreness. Hoping her strength was real and not a show, Tony thought their escape would go much more smoothly once he saw her.

While he waited, his eyes on the bathroom door, he pulled out a photograph of Grace given to him by Charles. She was beautiful, with perfect green eyes and strawberry blonde hair as straight as an arrow. The woman who walked out of the bathroom looked haggard, tired, and beaten, but her beauty couldn’t be hidden by any of those things. His spy had told him she was to be sold to the highest bidder, and Tony was certain she’d fetch an astronomical price.

He frowned when she dropped the towel, his cock hardening while simultaneously, his rage was fueled by the bruises on her body, specifically her right shoulder and hip. He forced the blood away from his cock so he could concentrate on rescuing the woman before that body was used for illicit, revolting purposes. As he watched, the larger of the two women left the room, and Grace vanished behind a wall where he couldn’t see her. The smaller woman, about Grace’s size, spoke, then stomped across the room as if she might attack her captive. Tony’s body stiffened briefly, then relaxed with a surprised breath when the woman’s body fell to the floor, a lamp shattering around her.

Fascinated, as if he were watching a good movie, he watched as Grace began to undress the woman and don her clothes, stealing her boots as well, her hands moving speedily as if she knew she’d be caught at any moment. With a smile that revealed his respect for this woman, he thought, Strong despite the pain. Good.

She stepped to the window once fully dressed in clothes two sizes too big for her and jerked it open, leaning out to look in all directions before climbing onto the roof outcropping. Her wet hair swept into her face, and she pushed it out of the way as she hurried to the edge and looked over.

Tony wondered if she’d jump and he’d get to her before she disappeared or was recaptured. He tossed his binoculars in his backpack and slung it over his shoulders quickly as he rose. With swift feet, he raced down and killed the cameras on that part of the wall, used a well-placed tree to vault over, and hurried to the most likely place for her to have landed. When he rounded the corner, she was dangling from the roof and dropped to the ground, grunting softly as she landed. She whipped around and looked in all directions, spying him almost immediately. Her mouth opened to scream, and Tony rushed her, putting his hand over her mouth and lifting her to her feet as he pushed her against the wall.

“Don’t scream, Grace.”

Her eyes widened when he said her name, but she fought him despite the fact that he knew her, attempting to get loose. Hoping he wasn’t hurting her, he held her more tightly and pressed his body against hers to stop her movements. At his height, she had to look up at him, and her eyes, while wide and frightened, were also fierce.

“Charles sent me to get you,” he hissed as she continued to squirm. She slowed her movements and stared into her eyes. “My name is Tony Romano. I used to be Special Forces. Met Charles in the service. He called and asked me to come get you.”

Though her body didn’t relax in the slightest, she stopped squirming. He released her mouth and heard her voice in its normal timbre for the first time. “How did you know where to find me?”

“Spies,” he answered quickly as he looked over his shoulder. “We’ll talk later. We have to move.”

Grace looked as if she wanted to ask a million questions, but she nodded her head. He put a finger to his lips and turned, releasing her from the wall, but he could still feel the imprint of her body against his. Shaking his lust with difficulty, he scanned the immediate area, looking for an escape. They couldn’t climb the wall from this side without being spotted by a guard, so they would have to find a gate.

He flattened his body against the house, chest first, and began to slide to the corner, where he peeked around. The front gate was nearly a hundred yards from their position, but a jeep and two cars were parked close to the front of the house. Four guards stood near the gates with weapons in their hands. From his vantage point, he could see no other guards and hoped there weren’t any. He glanced back at Grace, who was looking in all directions. He gripped her hand in his, and her eyes swung to his.

“We’re going to sprint for the jeep. Best choice to get us through the terrain,” he whispered. “When we get to it, lay as flat as possible in the seat while I hotwire it.”

She stared at him as if he were insane, but she nodded without speaking. He squeezed her hand reassuringly, knowing the woman was completely out of her element, then released her. Unlike in the movies, running while holding hands slowed progress and usually caused one or the other person to fall. He’d always thought it was stupid. Remembering where he was, he scanned the area again and saw no one.

“Ready?” he asked without looking at her.

“Yes.” Her whisper was barely audible.

Tony looked at her, saw her resolve, and nodded at her. He lifted his hand, counted to three on his fingers, and they sprinted. She fell behind, but not by much, and they reached the jeep almost simultaneously. She hopped in just as a voice yelled a warning, and more voices joined the call. They’d been spotted. Tony threw his pack in the backseat, cursing as he climbed into the driver’s side, but his irritation turned to elation when he saw the keys dangling in the ignition.

“That’s lucky,” he commented, smirking at her. She lifted her eyebrows and breathed out what could have been a laugh. A good sign, he thought as he jerked the keys and turned the jeep on. It roared to life, a rumble like thunder in the relative quiet of the courtyard. The yells had stopped, but to Tony, that was a bad sign. They were gathering men, gathering weapons, to stop them from leaving.

“Oh God! Go! Go!” Grace yelled when she looked over her shoulder.

Tony followed her eyes and saw a dozen men running towards them, assault rifles in their hands. He leaned out the driver’s side through the missing door, pulled his pistol, and shot the front tires of both trucks. He hoped that would give them some time before they were followed.

He threw the jeep into gear, spinning the tires as he drove towards the front gate. Three men stood in front of it, aiming at them, though they didn’t shoot. Tony wondered at their hesitation but put the thought away as he pushed the gas pedal to the floor. The vehicle jerked forward like a lion leaping at its prey, and the men at the gate jumped to either side to avoid death by jeep grill.

They hit the gate with a jarring crunch, but the large front bumper took the brunt of the crash. The gate exploded outward, and they were free. Only after they had left the compound did gunshots begin echoing through the forest. Grace slumped low in the seat, and Tony leaned over the steering wheel as bullets pinged off the metal. He vaguely heard her mumbling over and over, but he couldn’t focus on her.

He sat up and looked in the rearview mirror as the jeep careened around a corner and was hidden by the trees. No vehicles followed them, but they would soon. A dash off-road would be the best plan, but the forest was unmapped and without a visible trail. Tony could survive a trek through the jungle to the nearest town, but Grace had already spent several days having he didn’t know what done to her. He had no idea if she’d eaten or what strength she had left. He hoped she could find her strength, because their journey wasn’t over by a long shot.

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, they were still speeding down a gravel road, though they’d turned off the main road that led to de Velazquez’ mansion as soon as they could. Grace had sat up in her seat and put on her seatbelt, gripping it in her hands so tightly her knuckles were white. She turned constantly and watched the road behind them, even though Tony was sure she couldn’t see anything more than the dust cloud the jeep was kicking up.

Tony had studied the area on the flight down, so he knew where they needed to be for a rescue attempt to happen. The jeep, though, could not continue as their mode of transportation. They would abandon it somewhere for it to be easily found by de Velazquez’s men, hopefully after they were far from it.

“Where are we?” Grace asked over the rush of wind through the jeep’s open top and side.

“Close to Tuerto, which is where I’m trying to get before we abandon the jeep,” Tony answered. He glanced her way when she didn’t speak, her frown deep as she thought.

“I’ve…never heard of Tuerto,” she told him, and he felt her eyes on his face. “Is it a suburb of Matamoros?”

“We’re two hundred miles from Matamoros and the border,” he informed her and listened to her gasp.

“Jesus, I must have been unconscious for hours the day they kidnapped me,” she said quietly, awe in her voice. She touched the mark on her forehead and didn’t speak again for several minutes.

He waited and let her process the information he knew she had to be gathering in her head. Charles had explained to him that she was one of the smartest women he’d ever met, so he would let her figure out in her own time the danger they were in.

“How are we getting home?” she finally asked, her voice giving no emotion away.

“I have some friends in Tuerto who will get us a car, but that’s about the extent of the help we’ll receive,” Tony told her truthfully. He wanted her fully aware of the circumstances. He felt she was strong enough to handle it.

“You said you found me through a spy?” she asked after another long silence.

He heard the suspicion in her tone and was proud of her for having it. She should trust no one after the ordeal she’d been thrown into the past week. “I visited Adelaida, where you were last seen. The bartender was cooperative” —he shrugged— “after some convincing.”

“What sort of convincing?” she asked, her green eyes staring at him.

He glanced at her and returned his gaze to the road. The bruises amplified the shade of green, made them stark and brilliant and hard to look away from. “Doesn’t matter. He showed me where the body of your friend had been thrown and—” Her gasp interrupted him and he looked at her again, instantly regretting the harsh words. “I’m sorry.”

She nodded her head as she bit her lip. With a small hitch in her voice, she said, “I knew he was dead, and I’m not stupid enough to think they buried him like decent human beings. His family will be devastated.”

“Yes,” he agreed uselessly. “Something to remember, though, Grace. Your family will be devastated.”

She stared hard at him, her face expressionless as she contemplated his words. With a nod and what he saw as a shift in emotions, from sadness and fear to a hard toughness, she agreed. “You’re right. Tell me what to do and I’ll do it. I’ll do my best not to complain.”

His respect for her leapt, and he offered her a grin. “You can complain some, but I’ll ignore it.”

Grace nodded and smiled back. “Um, do you have any water? Or food?”

“I do have some water bottles in the pack I put in the back,” he told her. He glanced at his wristwatch. “No food, though. As long as no one is behind us, we should be able to get some food in Tuerto before leaving there.”

“How long before we get there?” she asked as she leaned into the back seat to retrieve the water.

“Thirty minutes, give or take.”

Grace guzzled almost an entire bottle in one gulp. She wiped her mouth with her hand, sighing. “I think that’s the best damn water I’ve tasted in my life.”

“I’ll want to hear your story once we’re out of this mess,” he told her, watching the road.

“I’ll tell it,” she affirmed. “I plan to tell it to everyone. I have a new mission in life.”

Afraid of her new-found life purpose, Tony didn’t ask it. They lapsed into silence, and when he looked at her, her head was lolling as if she might fall asleep. She kept jerking herself awake and trying to sit in uncomfortable positions.

“Grace, you can sleep,” he assured her. “My job is to bring you back, and I will.”

He looked into her eyes, hoping he looked convincing rather than frightening. The scar on his eyebrow and his general facial expression often scared people, a trait he luxuriated in when working and hated when living his life. But she seemed unaffected by his appearance. She nodded, shifted her body so her head rested against the seat, and fell asleep in seconds.

Tony glanced at her a few times as he drove, watching the rearview mirror as well. His biggest dream was that Tomas de Velazquez didn’t care enough about this woman to chase them, hunt them. But he’d been bested by her, which to a man like Tomas, whose reputation made him, could be ruinous. Tony pressed on the gas and sped up, hoping the bouncing wouldn’t wake her.

* * *

Tomas sat in his office chair, looking at the two women standing across from him. His oversized desk allowed them five feet of space, but his piercing gaze could penetrate even the toughest of men. Yet he hadn’t frightened Grace McIntyre, not as much as he enjoyed frightening women. These two, however, were not her and could not hold his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. They understood their mistake meant punishment; Grace would learn the lesson once she was found and returned.

“Please, explain to me again what happened,” he demanded in a smoothly calm voice.

The women exchanged a glance, and the smaller of the two, wearing only her bra and panties, stepped six inches closer, unashamed of her lack of clothing. In Spanish with an American accent, she said, “She asked for food. Esmerelda went to the kitchen to get her some fruit. The woman sat on the bed, claiming she was dizzy, and when I moved closer to get her up to dress, she hit me with the lamp.”

Tomas hummed, a low growl in his throat more than a purr. Anna did have a large bump and a scrape on her head. His eyes roved the room as he thought about the course of action he should take against the two women. Who was guiltier? Esmerelda had left the room even though they’d had orders to stay with her together. He’d known Grace would be cagey, would be creative and try to escape. Anna, on the other hand, had let her guard down and been knocked out by the woman. She had underestimated the prisoner, which was easy to do. He had as well, which irked his pride.

“Who is more to blame?” he mused aloud as his eyes moved from one woman to the other. Neither spoke, neither took the blame, and neither blamed the other. Satisfied with their loyalty to each other, he smiled slowly. “Your loyalty to each other is admirable. Your loyalty to me is questionable.”

Esmerelda spoke in a quick, quiet voice. “Senor, we are loyal to you. Without question.”

He let his vocal cords vibrate in a low, agreeable noise. He placed his elbows on his desk, his fingers in a steeple, and pressed his lips to them. He remained frozen for a time, debating, and when his decision was made, he sat back slowly. One hand dropped to the desk drawer to his right and lifted a gun. Without hesitation, he fired a shot, hitting Esmerelda in the forehead.

Anna jerked to the side and watched as her partner fell to the floor. Tomas watched her as a line of blood dripped from the wound in her forehead, and coldly, Anna, lifted the dead woman’s head with her foot so the blood didn’t get on the carpet. She returned her gaze to her boss and waited stoically for another gunshot.

“Thank you for thinking of the carpet,” he murmured appreciatively. Anna nodded but didn’t speak. Although he could see her fear, she didn’t beg or cry. She simply waited. Sighing, he said, “I’m not going to kill you, senorita. You are going to find Grace McIntyre and return her to me, since you lost her.”

“Forgive me, senor, but may I ask a question?”

Tomas’ lifted an eyebrow as he reevaluated this woman’s strength, which appeared comparable to Grace’s. She would prove a formidable foe to his wayward prisoner. He bowed his head, giving her permission to ask.

“Why is this woman so important?”

“An interesting question,” Tomas answered immediately. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “Because she escaped. And because a man was waiting to help her. Who was that man?”

“I, um, don’t know,” she told him, frowning darkly. “An American, from what the guards are saying.”

“An American,” he repeated. Sucking in a deep breath, he said, “Find them both. Bring them both to me alive. Or contact me and tell me where to come. I want them alive. Kill them, and you will take Grace’s place in my basement.”

“Yes, senor.” She accepted her fate as if it were expected.

“Take some men, Carlos and a couple others, and find her,” he ordered. Anna and her men would be twenty minutes behind the pair, but a murder in Tuerto had been reported to him that morning. “Go to Tuerto. Pablo Sanchez was killed. Begin your search there.”

“Who killed him?”

“One of my men,” Tomas answered, lifting an eyebrow. “He was a traitor. Find the woman.” She nodded, turned, and hurried out the door.

Tomas sat back, his handsome face incapable of hiding the rage once he was alone. No one had escaped his clutches before. No man or woman, and this American female had done so with seeming ease. Furious, he rose and marched around the desk to stare down at the body of Esmerelda. As he glared at the offending thing, his control slipped, and he began kicking the body, harder and harder, his boots making whoomp sounds with each contact. He listened to her ribs breaking, enjoying the cracking and wishing the body on his floor were that of Grace, alive and feeling every blow.

Once he’d exhausted himself, he sat down in his chair, panting. He cursed the woman and her companion as his body calmed and his breathing returned to normal. Serenely, he lifted his phone and ordered two men to come retrieve the body. While they worked, he rose and stared out the window, thinking of every depraved thing he planned to do to Grace after she watched him torture the American man to death, which would break her mind. Then his real fun would begin.