I said nothing as she tossed the phone onto the bed and fisted her hands, digging her nails, ones I’d helped her clip and file an hour earlier, into her palms. “Then again, he’ll cause her pain—more than many could ever imagine.”
Needing to intervene before things went south, and she worked herself up past the point of no return, I moved to the side of the bed and sat next to her.
Our hips were so close they nearly touched.
“Hey,” I said after slipping a finger under her chin and turning her face toward mine. “You, me and Maddie… we’re going to get her out. Little One too.”
She looked unsure. “It won’t be easy.”
“No, it won’t,” I replied, knowing she spoke the truth. “But their freedom, along with yours, will be worth every risk we’ll have to take.”
Jerking her chin away, she dropped her gaze to the floor. “Will you come see us at the shelter once we’re free?” Hand running anxiously through her hair, she bounced her legs up and down, a mixture of anxiety and agitation setting in. Speaking as someone who’d overcome addiction in the past, I knew she’d be dealing with both for a little while yet. “Is that even allowed? I mean—”
“I’ll find a way.”
I damned well would too.
Didn’t matter if I had to climb on the roof and slide down the century-old industrial chimney like Santa Claus, I would. Nothing would keep my pretty little pixie from me.
Not ever.
“Want to know something, Guapo?”
My chest squeezed each time she said that.
Long as I lived, I’d never tire of hearing it.
“I do,” I replied, leaning closer to her.
A slight smile tipped her lips. “Mi madre would’ve liked you. Very much.”
Talk about a gut-punch. “Yeah?”
She nodded. “Si, she would’ve.”
Taking one of her shaking hands in mine, I laced our fingers together. “Tell me about her.” I wanted to know everything. The good, the bad, the ugly. Especially the ugly. “I want to know everything.”
It was a request she surprisingly obliged.
“Her name was Camilla,” she said, wiping away her tears. “And she was the best cachapas maker in all of Colombia.”
She giggled, and I swear my heart fluttered like a damned teenager who’d just been given his first kiss. The childlike sound was one of the sweetest I’d ever heard.
“She was beautiful too.”
Looking at Carmen, I didn’t doubt it.
A thoughtful expression crossed my pixie’s face. “Mi papá loved her very much, but he used to say that she was stubborn to a fault, even though she was also more kind and patient than anyone he’d ever known. Prideful too.”
In an instant, her expression morphed.
And just like that, her happiness vanished.
Wanting to know why, I squeezed her hand and whispered, “I’m here. You can talk to me. I’ll listen to whatever you want or need to say.”
A quick nod was her only response. Comfortable silence surrounded us as she contemplated which road into her past she wanted to navigate.
Until finally, she made a choice.
“Papá was a policeman,” she said, eyes staring blankly. “One of the finest Medellin had ever seen. But like many uniformed men in his position, he was gunned down in the streets like a rabid dog after he refused to join a local narco’s payroll despite the dinero they offered him.”
My heart roared at the injustice.
Christ.
Exactly how much grief had she suffered?
“After his death, Mamá had to make many sacrifices to care for my little brother and I.” It was the first I’d ever heard her speak of a brother. “The initial sacrifice was her pride, the second her body.”
Trembling with anger on her behalf, I wasted no time in releasing her hand and standing. Slipping one hand under her bare legs and the other behind her back, I lifted her into my arms and sat back down, placing her sideways on my lap, a spot I wished she’d stay.
Forever.
“As a young girl, she’d made me promise to never become the one thing she’d been forced to turn into. Just as she made Alejandro swear to never treat ladies with anything but respect and dignity the moment he was old enough to understand what those words meant.”
Like mine, her mother had been good.
Real damned good from the sounds of it.
“I tried to keep my promise,” she continued, voice morphing with undeniable shame. “I swear I did. I had plans, big ones, but I…” Tears falling faster than before, she dug her finger into my forearm as she neared the point of crumbling. “I didn’t want to become this”—the first sob tore free—“but they made me.”
Taking me by surprise, she looped her arms around my neck and quickly turned, straddling my lap. “You have to believe me, James,” she said, her small body jerking against mine as she spiraled. “I didn’t want it. Not the forced sex and certainly not the junk-filled needle the bastardo forcibly stabbed into my arm the moment I became his property. I swear I didn’t—”
Cupping her cheek, I pressed my thumb to her lips, silencing the words she was in a rush to speak. “I know you didn’t want it,” I assured her, twining my free arm around her back. “Trust me, sweetheart, I know.”
Face dipping, her fingers circled my wrist. “But they took me, and I had no other choice but to do as they said or else Alejandro would die.”
My anger grew tenfold, if such a thing was even possible. Desperately trying to keep it in check and under control, I held her tighter. “Who stole you?” Moving my hand from her cheek, I buried it in her hair and clutched her locks in my fist, anchoring her in place. “You can tell me.”
The fear mixed with anguish flooding her eyes destroyed my soul, ripping open every scar that had begun to heal since I first saw her. It hurt, a hell of a lot, and because of that, I swore that I’d fix every broken piece of her.
Come hell or high water.
“Carlos did,” she answered, burying her face in the crook of my neck. “He stole my future and robbed me of my pride. But
