SAILOR
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Demons really had a way of finding their way back into your life.
It’d been more than two decades since I was kidnapped and tortured; I’d moved on. Honestly, a part of me thought I’d forgotten everything that had happened, but it took one look at Jetmir Thorne Volkov-Tijuana for the memories to rear their ugly heads.
It was humbling to confirm that those memories would never leave, and those scars—visible and invisible—were here to stay.
So many years had gone by, but the torture inflicted upon me by none other than Santiago Tijuana splashed through my mind and the feeling of helplessness and shame took me right back to that dark place on his Caribbean island from hell.
I paced the length of the bedroom suite, my nerves on the edge and my mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions.
Anya had gone out to a bar with Francesca and Gianna, while most of our friends and family stayed back.
Most had retired for the night, and Raphael had an urgent meeting and had gone with Luciano and Nico.
But at this moment, all I needed and wanted was for him to be here.
Thankfully, Gabriel stayed behind.
He sat in the armchair, his gaze unfocused, and although he couldn’t see me, he had enough insight to know that I was on edge.
“If you don’t share what’s bothering you, I’m going to start pacing too and you’ll have to rearrange the furniture so I’m not tripping around,” he commented dryly.
“Maybe we should have gone clubbing with the girls?”
He chuckled dryly. “Are you mad? They’d kick us out or, even worse, think of us as some creeps. We’re too old for that place.”
“I just can’t shake off this feeling,” I admitted, though I knew I was being unfair because he couldn’t know the extent of it.
He’d been so young then, barely ten years old, and he had no business being burdened with my demons.
Yes, he was a grown man now, but as a mother, I was still unwilling to share that part with him.
Raphael, my husband, was the one I needed.
“I shouldn’t have let her go.”
“First, you’re being paranoid. Second, Anya is an adult.” He had a point there. “And she’s finally rid of that Volkov and Tijuana last name. She has every reason to celebrate."
I winced. Gabriel had his own reasons for hating Jetmir.
“It’s true,” I agreed reluctantly. “Although, Anya hasn’t been the same since. I wish she’d talk to me like she used to.”
Instead, she’d shut herself off from everyone.
“Maybe, but we all need to realize she’s no longer a kid. When she’s ready to talk, she’ll come to us.”
“Gabriel, it’s been three years! What if she… really loved him.”
I came to an abrupt stop, my breathing heavy and my mind whirling like a tornado.
Gabriel stood and slowly made his way to me, his eyes slightly unfocused until he finally took my shoulders and clutched them.
“If Anya felt anything for him, she wouldn’t have agreed to the annulment. She would have spoken up by now. But she hasn’t. And Amara said she hasn’t mentioned him or been taking his calls.”
“What if she’s doing that for us?” I whispered, my heart squeezing. I knew my daughter and deep down I was certain she wasn’t the same happy girl she used to be. She pretended to be, and I waited and waited for her to heal. Maybe to start talking. But something had to give.
“What do you mean… for us?” Gabriel questioned, and I silently cursed myself.
“I meant… It was just…”
“You mean because of my vision?” he asked, his eyebrows meeting his hairline.
I released a long whoosh of breath, and my shoulders slumped. “She’s so protective of you.”
He nodded. “I’ve spoken with Anya on numerous occasions to ensure she knows she owes me nothing.”
“She blames herself," I murmured.
“Did she tell you that?”
“No, but I know my daughter.”
“She’s not to blame. I’ve said that multiple times. The blast just happened to occur when she and that fucker of her ex-husband were around.”
“It’s just that she’s been so…” I searched for the right word for a moment. “I see sadness in her eyes even when she’s smiling. She doesn’t seem to get excited about anything anymore.”
“Not even her photography?” Gabriel questioned.
“Not the way she used to. I can’t remember the last time I saw her really happy, mad, or anything. Just this quiet sadness.”
Gabriel reached out for my hand and I took it. He squeezed, and said, “We all know Anya is a Santos through and through, and her Latin roots shine when she’s pissed off.”
A small smile pulled on my lips. “And stubborn as fuck.”
“Anyone I know?” Raphael’s voice reached us and I whirled around, watching my husband of twenty-three years appear in the doorway. I’d known him for so long, yet the mere sight of him still made my stomach flutter. He was still the most dangerously beautiful man alive.
His gaze fell on me, drinking me in, and I couldn’t help a little shudder that rolled down my spine.
“We’re talking about you,” Gabriel drawled, then bent his head to kiss my cheek. I leaned over so he wouldn’t have to struggle. “I’ll see you both tomorrow.”
He left in a slow but sure step, completely oblivious to Raphael’s lips meeting mine for a deep kiss. I couldn’t help but smile and whisper, “Shouldn’t be inappropriate in front of the kids.”
He pulled away with a little scoff. “I hate to tell you, mi reina. There haven't been any children around for quite a few years.”
I smoothed the wrinkles on his white shirt, then flattened my palm against the rippling muscles of his hard chest.
I shook my head. “They’ll always be kids to me.”
“I know. Me too.” He skimmed his knuckles down my cheek. “We’re getting old.”
“I suppose, although you’re getting more and more handsome with age.” I stared up at this man who was everything to me—my husband, my lover, and my savior. His brows dipped as he cupped my face with his large palm. “Is something the matter?”
It took all my inner strength not to let the emotions smother me, nor the images I’d managed to keep in check for so long.
“I think we have a problem.”
“Such as?”
“Anya… she’s not happy. And her ex-husband…”
His expression darkened. “He is nothing to her.”
“Your detest for him… is it because of me?”
He went still, his muscles tightening against my hold. “What do you mean?”
“Raphael, I know you see Santiago in him. I’m worried that we took Anya’s chance at happiness.”
Raphael wrapped me in his arms and picked me up, ferrying me to the sofa where he sat down, placing me on his lap. He stroked my cheek soothingly while his other hand wrapped around me in a tight hug,
“That boy fucked up and lost the chance to have Anya, not us. Good riddance to the Volkov-Tijuana lineage. Now that he’s permanently out of our lives, Anya will move on. Just wait and see.”
I dug my fingers into his shirt and stared up at him with blurry eyes.
“I’m not so sure, Raphael. She… changed.” I sighed heavily. “I don’t know how it was possible for her to fall for him so fast and marry him. I always thought…”
I trailed off because there was no sense in revisiting the past and the wedding of our daughter we missed.
“It’s all that boy’s fault,” he grumbled. “If he’d kept his distance, none of it would have happened and my wife would be happy.”
He didn’t like that his baby girl had grown wings and almost left us. Yes, it was with the boy from a family we had qualms with, but the fact remained: she was her own person—a young woman searching for happiness.
“I want to kill that bastard. He dared to touch my baby daughter,” Raphael growled, watching me with so much love. “He isn’t good enough to walk this earth.”
“But what if she loved him?” I questioned. “Or even worse, still does?”
“A few years down the line, she won’t even remember him.”
I wasn’t so sure. I feared that whatever had happened between that boy and Anya had changed my baby girl forever. Would we ever get the old Anya back?
“He grew up around different men. He wasn’t embedded in the Tijuana Cartel.
Maybe he’s not as cruel as they were.” I shuddered recalling the torture I endured under his father.
“Besides, it’s not his fault who his parents are,” I murmured.
“We don’t even know him, really, and Anya has never shared anything about her time with him. ”
His expression darkened. He despised talking about Jetmir. “I should at least get to beat the crap out of him.”
“Raphael, absolutely not. Promise me.”
He let out a grumble. “Fine, fine. I promise. But only because I love you so much.”
“I love you too, my diablo.” I took his chin between my fingers. “I wish… Oh, I don’t know. I feel like we should talk to Anya and explain our reservations about aligning our family with his.”
“I’ll talk to her tomorrow,” he offered.
I shook my head. “No, it should be a mother-daughter talk. It’s long overdue.”
He gazed at me with so much care I could have drowned in it. “Will you be okay?”
“Yes.” I rested my forehead against his. “I’ll always be okay as long as I have you.”