My hand shook as I took it from him. Why was he doing this? It didn’t make sense. He’d made her fear him and threatened to sell her. He’d told her he’d not protect her if she misbehaved.

“Man. Deck is right. A few more days—”

“She doesn’t have a few more days, she has zero.” He was talking about me as if ... as if he cared what happened to me. “Deck will meet you. Don’t come back, Dave. Don’t ever come here again. What happened to your sister ... fuck ... I’m sorry.”

Dave stiffened and nodded as if no more needed to be said, and Logan put his hand on Dave’s shoulder and squeezed.

Sister? What happened to Dave’s sister? Could she have been a slave? Was she one of the girl’s she’d seen? Had she been killed? Why did Logan care? How good of friends were they?

When Logan shifted, his eyes met mine.

The Logan I’d fallen in love with, not the cold man who held me captive, stood in front of me. I saw it in him, the way his eyes warmed, the way his fingers stroked the back of my hand.

And it terrified me. Because no matter how much I’d fought it, I still loved this man.

Dave tugged on my arm, and mine and Logan’s hands separated. I stared, unable to move.

“Emily. Go.”

Dave yanked, but I refused to budge. “Chiquita, we have to leave now.”

Then the coldness descended over Logan’s face. “Get out of here, Emily. This is who I am. Don’t think any different just because I fucked you a few times.”

I gasped. Dave swore beneath his breath.

“Get her out of my sight.”

I glared at the man that just sucked the last bit of hope from my heart. “Why are you letting me go then? Just sell me, you bastard! Why take the risk?”

He shook his head. “I’m risking nothing. My father will be marginally upset, but I’m his prize fighter, and if I choose to let you go then that is my choice.” His tone softened, the hardness in his eyes remained. “Go repair from this place, Emily.”

“Sculpt.” Dave sighed and lowered his head, clearly unhappy at what was going down.

My response was automatic, as if the words were sitting on the tip of my tongue waiting to be spoken. “Some things can’t be repaired. You break them bad enough, they can’t be fixed.”

His body flinched. His jaw clenched, and I saw his index finger twitch against his thigh. He was angry, but I also recognized the pain in his expression. And I was glad he hurt.

I’d live. I’d survive.

I realized I didn’t have it in me to forgive him or to forget. But I’d find a place in me that could—live.

Dave yanked hard on my hand and we ran. The last vision I saw of Logan was him turning his back on me.

Dave hauled ass through the compound, sticking to the shadows while dragging me behind him. I was too frazzled to do anything but follow him, and if it was true and I was getting out of here, then I’d do anything he asked of me.

He stopped behind one of the houses, his finger up to his mouth making certain I stayed quiet. I heard the steady patter of paws and feet and leaned up against the wall, holding my breath, praying they couldn’t hear my heart thumping erratically.

When the guard and dog passed, Dave gestured to me to stay put while he crept low across the yard. I saw the flash of his knife reflect against the moonlight as he unsheathed it. In one swift movement the guard standing near the wall fell to the ground.

Dave gestured to me, and I went running to him.

Suddenly there were three loud gun shots and lots of shouts as guards started running toward the main house.

“Fool.” Dave said staring off in the direction of the gunshots. “That’s our signal.”

He grabbed my hand again, and we ran the length of the wall. It felt like forever as I scrambled after him, trying to stop from ducking as more gun shots went off.

Dave stopped and dropped to his knees at a grate in the ground. He pulled several times before it gave way. “The ladder’s slippery. Careful.”

I slid through feet first and felt for the ladder rung then started climbing down. I stopped when I heard a clang of metal. “Dave?” I didn’t trust the guy, and I had no idea why he was helping me escape, but right now he was all I had.

“Don’t stop, Chiquita.” His voice carried down the damp sewer. “You need to hurry.”

“Are you ... are you coming?”

“No, Chiquita. Go quickly.”

Oh God, he wasn’t coming. I was all alone in a sewer with no money and somewhere in Mexico. I froze on the ladder, fingers tight around the damp, thin metal. I didn’t know what to do, where to go, or even how to get there. Maybe this sewer was a dead end? Had Dave even checked where this led? Was this a test? Was Sculpt testing to see if I’d leave if given the chance? Could all this be a cruel sick game to torment me?

“Emily?”

My body instinctively plastered against the ladder. The voice came from below me ... It was vaguely familiar, but I was so scared I didn’t trust anything my mind was thinking right now.

“Emily? Hell.”

Deck?

The rush of emotion hit me so hard I slipped down two rungs, and the sound echoed like a drum through the tunnel.

“Emily?” Deck called.

“Y-yes. Yes, it’s me.”

“Climb down, beautiful.”

I was sobbing hysterically by the time I felt hands on my hips, and then I was being lifted and placed on my feet. I turned in Deck’s arms and collapsed into them, my cheek pressed against his chest, and my arms holding him tight around the waist. I barely knew the guy, but he was the best sight I’d seen in fifteen days.

The relief was overwhelming, like I’d been pulled from being buried alive without hope, without breath ... alone with no one to trust—until now.

Deck stroked the back of my hair. “We have to move hard, Emily. You good to run?”

I nodded, sniffling.

“Matt’s here. We’re taking you home.”

“Oh God,” I cried. Matt. He’d come. Him and Deck. They hadn’t forgotten me.

I heard several more gun shots and jumped. I thought about Logan; I couldn’t help it. He had something to do with me getting out of here. Even though I’d never forgive him for what he’d done. He’d destroyed any innocence and tarnished it with mistrust and fear. He’d put me in a world that would live in my nightmares forever.

I didn’t know why Dave didn’t come with me. Logan had sounded like Dave was supposed to, but he’d opted to go back. For Logan? Did Logan need help? No, Logan was Raul’s son.

Deck squeezed my hand. “You’re safe now, Emily.”

Safe? I’d never be safe again. I knew I’d never be the same girl who walked into an illegal fighting ring and asked Sculpt to teach her how to fight. I didn’t know who I’d become or how I’d do it or where I’d even go from here.

What I did know was that I’d never forget.

Chapter 11

2 years later

Gravel crunched beneath tires as the distinct roar of a motorcycle come barreling up the driveway toward me.

It was rare anyone came to the farm except Deck who drove his sweet black Audi with the tinted windows. It crept up the driveway so silently that I rarely noticed it. Actually, the car reminded me of Deck, mysterious, dangerous with a quiet calmness that awakened every nerve in the body. Deck had taken it upon himself to check up on me every so often ever since he and Matt had brought me back from Mexico. Georgie said it was his way, and I was “in the fold” now. Well, the fold could be a pain in the butt, and Georgie completely agreed as she’d been on Deck’s radar since he was honorably discharged from the JTF2. He’d started his own company called Unyielding Riot. I recently found out that Riot was Georgie’s brother’s call name in the JTF2.

Deck had been a huge help when I came back. He assisted with the police and FBI investigation and was with me when I had to tell them the story. Although, certain details were left out—like Sculpt’s identity. I never mentioned him; Deck’s doing and I guess mine too. Sculpt had gotten me out of there.

Deck being an ex JTF2 often worked with law enforcement on cases and therefore had some ‘friends’ which helped when I wanted nothing more than to stop talking about it. He kept the pressure off of me and dealt with most of the questions and answers. At the time, I couldn’t even recall most of what was said I was so numb to everything.

Stroking Havoc’s sleek, white neck, I felt the veins popping out under her skin. A quiver raced through her body, and she trembled. Clucking, I moved Havoc into a walk. Horses were prey animals, and when scared—they ran.

The bike’s roar closed in on us.

Havoc’s ears pricked forward and her muscles coiled like a spring.

I sunk deeper into the saddle, yet made certain I stayed relaxed. Clamping down tight on a fearful horse was like a mountain lion leaping on their back.

“Good girl, Havoc.” I urged her around so that we were facing the offending noise that still wasn’t slowing. The bike paused at the fork in the driveway, one way went to the main house, the other to the barn. It revved then came straight for the barn.

“Damn it.”

Havoc sucked in air to make a loud snorting sound.

I took my feet out of the stirrups to hop off, and at the same time the offending bike backfired.

Havoc exploded.

“Shit.” I looped my fingers in her mane as Havoc went up on her hind legs, pawing the air. My lower back hit hard against the back of the leather saddle as she came down on all fours. She took off in a mad gallop around the ring, her hind legs kicking out to the side and throwing my body off balance.

Havoc came to an abrupt halt, her nostrils flaring and sides heaving.

Then it happened.

The bike skidded to a stop in front of the barn, dust and gravel pebbles flew into the air hitting the aluminum barn wall and making a loud crackling sound like fireworks going off. Havoc’s ears went straight back, her spine arched, and both hind legs went straight up into the air as she squealed.

I careened over her head and landed smack on my ass. “Ughhh.”

I fell backward and lay in the dirt while I listened to Havoc bolt around the riding ring kicking up dust.

Undoing my chin strap, I flicked off my helmet and stared up at the ominous clouds. “What the hell.”

The gate clanged.

Footsteps.

I lay still contemplating what sort of pain I was going to cause the culprit. I’d spent months gaining Havoc’s trust and this would set me back weeks, if not months. The six other traumatized and abused rescue horses that had come with Havoc from the slaughter house had already been rehomed. I’d helped them gain their pride and confidence back, but Havoc was taking much longer. She was an alpha mare and pushing her would only make her rebel—the last reaction I wanted.

I figured another couple years of helping clients with “problem” horses—more like problem clients who didn’t understand their horses—and with the reselling of the abused horses to good homes I’d be able to buy my own farm. I loved living here with Kat, but I wanted my own place. I think in a way I needed it. I’d been latching onto Matt and Kat for too long, and I wanted a career and to be able to support myself.