Chapter 3
Evelyn
Disjointed, horrific memories flicker through my thoughts in a nauseating film reel.
Darkness. Terror. Pain. Hands groping at my body, violating me while I’m bound and helpless. Unable to move or scream for help.
George. They want to kill my fiancé. They’re using me as bait to lure him into a trap.
I jolt upright with a gasp, and pain knifes through my skull. The overly bright world swirls around me, and I fall back onto the pillow.
I’m lying on something soft, not damp concrete. My head pounds, but no further agony is inflicted as punishment for my struggles. My hands twitch at my sides, jerking against the phantom restraints that no longer bind me.
“George.” I moan his name, fear for him saturating my thoughts.
“I’m right here.” His warm, familiar hand settles gently over mine, the barest brush of his palm against my knuckles.
“George.” This time, his name is a harsh sob. I turn my hand so that I can clutch at him, holding on like he’s my lifeline.
“You’re safe now,” he promises, his voice tight with suppressed anger.
I blink hard, forcing my heavy lids to open so that I can find his steady blue gaze. His soft navy eyes fill my world, and I quickly dash away the sting of tears before my vision blurs. I can’t lose sight of him.
My wrist aches as I move to wipe the wetness from my cheeks, and I note the thick white bandage that encircles it. I glance down at our entwined hands and see that both wrists have been similarly dressed; the wounds inflicted by the cruel cable ties have been treated.
The bright, clinical lighting and slightly harsh, sterile scent in the air indicate that I’m in a hospital. Not a dank basement.
“You saved me,” I rasp, my throat still hoarse from screaming.
Fine lines of strain tighten around George’s mouth, his expression turning stony. The familiar, smooth planes of his classically handsome face harden into rough-hewn granite.
Six years ago, I fell hard for his captain-of-the-football team sunny smile and golden hair. But I’ve learned to read his darker moods in the subtle shifts of his square jaw and the shadowed dimple in his chin.
George is tense, on the edge of fury.
“You’re safe now,” he repeats.
“How did you find me? Those men. They wanted to kill you.” I jolt upright again, wincing at the sudden stab of pain through my skull. I breathe through it and frantically appraise him, searching for signs of injury. “Are you hurt?”
“No, baby. I’m fine.” He reassures me, but he remains tense.
I sense an intangible distance between us, the one that separates our hearts when he’s in one of his particularly prickly moods.
“But how…?” I clutch at his hand more tightly, desperate to pull him closer and bridge the invisible barrier between us. “What happened? The last thing I remember…”
I trail off on a shudder, not wanting to think about the awful ordeal. The phantom taint of the man’s hands pawing at my breasts makes my stomach twist.
George’s long fingers finally grip mine with equal force. “I need you to tell me what happened,” he says, voice still tight with barely leashed, volatile emotion. “You were late coming home to make dinner, and the next thing I knew, I was getting a phone call saying you’re in the hospital.”
He rakes a hand through his sandy blond hair. “They told me they found you in a basement with two dead men. Someone put in an anonymous emergency call to get an ambulance to your location. What the hell happened?”
My heart pounds with remembered terror, but I force my mind to focus on the fear-drenched memories in order to puzzle out my situation. George needs the information so that he can go after the men who took me. He just wants to protect me.
I reach out and trace the line of his clean-shaven jaw, trying to soothe away his tension.
“I’m okay,” I promise. “I’m with you now.”
He blows out a long breath and turns his face to kiss my palm.
“I didn’t know where you were,” he admits, his voice shaking slightly. “You scared me, baby.”
“I’m okay,” I repeat, drawn to comfort him.
I hate the thorny mood that’s created a painful gulf between us. I need him now more than ever.
“Hold me?” I ask, my voice small and embarrassingly weak.
He sighs again and wraps his arms around me, drawing me into a careful embrace. I shudder as the residual horror of my ordeal washes through me, and my tears wet his shirt. I bury my face in his chest and weave my fingers through his thick, wavy hair to hold him close.
Alive. George is alive, and so am I.
“What happened, Evie?” he asks, more gently this time.
“I…” I swallow the acid tang on my tongue and force myself to remember. “I was on my way home from the university after I finished my classes for the day.”
George’s hand tightens around mine.
“I told you not to walk on your own,” he reprimands.
“I was only going to the bus stop,” I say, a bit defensive.
I didn’t defy George’s warnings; I didn’t wander through the unfamiliar streets by myself.
I know the route to work using the bus, but I’m not confident navigating Mexico City on foot. George has been too busy with work to show me around, and it would be stupid of me to risk getting lost on my own. The cartels might know my fiancé’s job with the DEA and target me.
A shudder wracks my body. That’s exactly what happened.
“Who took you?” he demands. “Which cartel was responsible?”
“I…” I search my dark memories for any clues about the identities of the men who took me. “I don’t know.”
His lips thin. “You’re fluent in Spanish, Evie. You teach English at the university for god’s sake. You must have been able to understand what they were saying around you.”
“They drugged me somehow. And when I woke up, I was blindfolded and gagged. They didn’t talk to me,” I blurt in an awful rush of remembered terror. “All they talked about was how they were going to use me as bait to get to you. They wanted to kill you, George.”
I wrap my arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer so that I can feel his heartbeat against me. It quickens with anxiety for my distress, but his hold on me remains steady and reassuring.
“But who were they?” he insists. “I have to know, baby. It’s the only way I can protect us. I can arrest the men responsible, and we’ll be safe.”
I shake my head against his chest. “I don’t know. I’m sorry. I don’t know.”
His arms flex around me. “How did those men end up dead in that basement with you? Who called for the ambulance?”
Guilt twists my gut. “I don’t know,” I say again, useless. “I couldn’t see any of them. They said…”
“What did they say?” he prompts when I hesitate.
I force myself to sort through the jumbled memories of agony and fear. “There were two men with me in the basement and then a third man spoke. He asked if I was innocent. He seemed angry.”
A shudder races through me as the feral roar of rage echoes through my mind. Despite my residual terror, I know deep in my bones that the third man saved me. He killed his associates and set me free.
“Then one of them…hurt me,” I force myself to say, skipping over the part where they tried to violate me.
George doesn’t need to know about that. It would only upset him more.
I gingerly touch the aching spot on my forehead. “I blacked out. I don’t know what happened after that. The next thing I knew, I was here with you.” I hug him tighter. “You’re alive.”
They didn’t kill my fiancé. He’s warm and vital in my arms.
“You scared me, baby,” he confesses, a rare moment of vulnerability.
Guilt claws at me. “I’m okay,” I promise again. “I’ll be more careful.”
“I should keep you at the apartment,” he rumbles. “I never should’ve agreed to allow you to teach at the university.”
“We need the money,” I counter.
We’re saving to buy our own home back in Albuquerque one day. We’re partners, and I have to contribute to our future.
He grimaces. “I don’t want you going anywhere alone anymore. It’s not safe for you here.”
For a brief, selfish moment, I hope he’s going to declare that we’re returning to New Mexico.
But I can’t allow him to abandon his aspirations with the DEA. George has always wanted to be in law enforcement, to be a force for good in this world. I have to support that noble dream.
“I’ll be more careful,” I vow.
He pulls away from me, a small frown of disapproval twisting his lips. “Be honest with me, Evie. You weren’t going straight to the bus stop, were you? You were taking pictures again.”
The awful truth pierces my heart. I did pause to take some photos as I strolled to the bus stop. I’d promised George that I wouldn’t go out into the city with my camera like I would when I’d lived in Albuquerque. But sometimes, I see the perfect shot, and I pull out my phone to capture the moment.
“I just stopped for a few minutes,” I protest. “I didn’t wander through the streets or anything.”
But even as I speak, my cheeks heat with shame. This is all my fault.
My distraction cost me dearly. I let my guard down to indulge my art, and I made myself an easy target.
My dreams of being a professional photographer have always been foolish, and now, playing pretend almost cost George’s life.
“I won’t do it ever again,” I swear. “I’m sorry.”
He blows out a long sigh, and the frown mostly eases from his handsome features. “I know you won’t. I think you know better now and will take my warnings seriously. Won’t you?”
I nod quickly. “Yes,” I agree. “I won’t mess up again. I won’t put you in danger.”
He brushes an approving kiss over my aching forehead, and warmth settles over me despite the brief flicker of pain. George is with me, and we’re both alive. Safe.
I’ll do anything to protect him, even if that means giving up my small pleasures. I can go back to my photography hobby when we move back to the States.
I’ll never make a career with my art. It’s just a silly way I like to express my irrepressible creative streak. It’s always been an impractical indulgence, and now, it almost got both of us killed.
I’ll be more vigilant from now on.
“You should quit your job,” he says, and cold panic pulses through me. “Your small paycheck isn’t worth risking our lives.”
“No!” I take a breath to calm my nerves. “Please, George. I can’t just stay in that apartment all the time.”
I’m not particularly extroverted—George is the only real friend I’ve ever had—but the apartment is small and cramped. The dangers of the city hem me in even more.
I can’t bear to be trapped inside, locked away from the beauty and the ugliness of the world. All facets of humanity fascinate me. Even if I’m apart from the emotional bonds most people easily enjoy, I’m able to observe it all through the lens of my camera.
“You wouldn’t be in the apartment all the time. We’ll still go to the market together,” George allows.
The only time I get to take my camera out is on our weekly trips to the market, when George takes time away from work to accompany me. Otherwise, my commute to the university allows me a small window into the world. If I lose that, I’ll go crazy from the isolation.
“That’s once a week,” I say weakly, feeling selfish that I’m protesting when he only wants to protect us both.
He rakes a hand through his sandy hair, mussing it from its usual tidy style. He only does that when he’s deeply frustrated with me, and the gesture makes me cringe internally.
“I’ll spend more time with you,” he promises. “You can come with me when I’m networking socially. But you’re not going to the university anymore. Not by yourself. And I can’t leave work to escort you around the city every day.”
Anguish crushes my heart, but I can’t defy him. He’s only being reasonable and responsible for our safety.
We won’t be in Mexico City forever. I can deal with the temporary isolation.
“You’d be okay with me going to the bar with you and your friends?” I ask cautiously.
George usually doesn’t want me around when he’s establishing his career connections.
Going out for drinks and forming friendships is an important part of advancement in his line of work.
The camaraderie he shares with his fellow agents also keeps us in a tight-knit community that adds another layer of protection.
We’re outsiders here, and the nature of George’s work makes us enemies of the cartels.
He nods tightly. “I can keep an eye on you when we go out,” he says. “Besides, a couple of the other wives come out with us sometimes.”
“They do?” I ask breathlessly, hope budding in my chest.
I don’t make friends easily, but female company would be nice. Especially if I’m going to be confined to the apartment for most of every day.
He nods again, that awful frown still tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Thank you,” I say fervently. “I’ll be safe as long as I’m with you.”
George is my person. He’s my everything, my entire world. He won’t allow anyone to take me from him ever again.
Besides, he can’t keep me safe if I make foolish, headstrong choices. I won’t fight him on this anymore. I’ll quit my job and make the shabby little apartment into a home for us.
“Do as I say, and you’ll be safe,” he says. “I can’t protect you if you get reckless and go off on your own to take your pictures.”
“I won’t,” I agree.
He rubs his hand up and down my back in a soothing motion.
“We won’t be here forever, baby,” he reassures me. “Just a year or two until I get promoted.”
I nod, hardening my resolve. I can stay mostly isolated for that period of time.
To keep George safe, I’ll sacrifice anything.