Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98035 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 490(@200wpm)___ 392(@250wpm)___ 327(@300wpm)
It didn’t dissuade her. She had powerful friends, and they were extremely protective of her.
Except that was the problem. Her friends were too protective.
When she’d asked Matias for a security team to accompany her to Venezuela, he refused. Then he threatened to lock her in a cell if she tried to leave. Her roommates supported that threat.
When she’d asked Cole to somehow get a message to Tiago in the criminal underground, that request was refused, as well. Cole said it would end up in the wrong hands and only put her in more danger.
But Cole kept a diligent watch on Caracas, and he’d been able to confirm one thing.
Tiago was no longer associated with his organization.
Smuggling routes had been dismantled. Rival gangs had moved in. There was even a new leader running what was left of his compound.
He’d given it all up. Forfeited his livelihood. Surrendered his protection.
For the four gemstones he’d attached to her nipples.
The man had a filthy dark sense of chivalry.
“We need to consider the possibility he’ll never resurface.” Tate paced to the window and stared out at the moonlit landscape of the rain forest. “We can’t hide here forever.”
“He won’t harm you,” Kate murmured.
Tate pivoted and tilted his head to the side, regarding her. “Have you seen my back, Kate?”
“Yes.” She glided a hand over her thigh, seeking comfort in the scars that lay beneath her borrowed jeans. “He and I made a deal. He promised me he would never hurt you again.”
“His promises mean nothing to me.”
Her chest was empty, drained of tears and breath. It felt as though she’d left her insides in that fire. Everything under her skin was simply gone. Except the hum of determination. That was still there, rising up from the chasm where her soul once lived, where he used to be.
“He’s alive, and I’ll find him.” She met Tate’s eyes. “Unless he finds me first.”
He pressed his lips together, biting back a retort.
Every hour that passed reinforced her belief that Tiago was alive. That meant she wasn’t the only one hurting. He had vulnerabilities that could only be comforted and healed by her. He needed her, missed her, feared for her as much as she did for him. They were two halves of a whole.
Since arriving here, she’d heard the term Stockholm syndrome from every mouth in every conversation. It didn’t upset her or make her defensive. Because honestly, how many times had she thrown those very words at Tiago?
How sad that she had to lose him in order to see what had been right in front of her all along.
She knew what she felt was love—not coercion, not lust, not Stockholm syndrome—because it had become an artery that ran through the deepest part of her heart. She felt it beating and knew if she severed it, she would bleed out. She wouldn’t survive.
The night she reunited with Tate, she sat down with him and explained this. Since he was so utterly wrapped up in Lucia, he understood the madness that came with love. He couldn’t fully comprehend her position with regard to Tiago, but he listened. He was trying.
Then she had a heart-to-heart with everyone else, individually, paired off with couples, and together as a group. It’d been four days of discussing, soul-searching, and analyzing until her emotional shields were eradicated and there was nowhere to hide from their hard questions.
It felt like a form of group therapy. She endured it because she appreciated their life experiences, valued their opinions, and trusted their intentions.
Josh and Amber related to her the most. They’d both fallen in love with their captors, so they understood her on the darkest, most vulnerable level. Their journeys hadn’t been pretty, and look at them now. They fucking glowed with happiness.
There was comfort in that. Validation. Hope.
So here they all were, the whole gang sitting together in Matias’ estate, talking, monitoring the news, and waiting. Because the man she loved was missing, and that made him a threat to everyone.
On the bright side, she had her friends back. Thanks to Van Quiso, they shared a remarkable bond, one born in shackles and strengthened in survival.
For the rest of the night, they lounged around in the living room, pouring drinks, sharing stories, enjoying one another’s company, and musing about the future.
She didn’t know what the future held for her, but she never saw herself as a vigilante warrior. Not like them.
She told them she wanted to heal people, and maybe someday, she would become the Freedom Fighters’ resident doctor.
A doctor like Boones.
If she located the old man, she would find Tiago.
Maybe Boones had returned to his brothers in his home village? She didn’t know where that was, but through her observations, she’d collected four months of clues, including the unique sounds of his native language.
A plan started to form, thrumming through her blood and bouncing her leg.