And we'd fallen in love, languishing over stolen hours of passion and simply time spent together. Our affair had lasted only two months. Then my world had crumbled.
I bit back another round of tears, refusing to let Sylvie study and record my despair. If only I hadn't found the horrific photographs. Would it have made a difference? Of course, there was no way of being certain that my father had any responsibility in the horrific murders, but I knew in my heart.
I had to face the fact that my father had found out about my love affair with Rodriguez and killed him in cold blood. The rest was far too disturbing to think about. The level my father had sunk to, the horrors he'd inflicted were intolerable. There was no one I could trust anymore. Even Miguel continued to harbor secrets, a man on a mission to destroy everything I'd known before. I was angry about being conflicted, as if I was supposed to choose between them.
I'd been through myriad emotions in the few hours out in the glitz and glamor of South Beach. The few intimate moments spent in Miguel's office had seemed almost normal, as if we were merely dating. Every time I shifted, I was reminded of the damn plug I'd been required to wear. I felt kinky and dirty, one bad girl searching for clothes that I had no desire to wear.
And all the while, Miguel's soldier had maintained a close and rather ominous presence. After finally purchasing a dress for the evening, I noticed Sylvie was studying me even more than she had. She stood with her arms behind her back, her feet planted a solid eighteen inches apart, constantly scanning every store we went into.
What was she trying to prove, that she was as good as the males? Her clothes reflected her profession, the gun carefully secured in an ankle holster. Sylvie had made certain to share that very detail before we left in her personal car, one sleek black Charger. She even wore her insanely red hair in a tight bun and hadn't taken off her dark sunglasses all day. What had surprised me was the very feminine dress she'd brought for me to wear, the vivid colors completely unlike the drab olive green she was wearing.
I grabbed the bag with the two dresses I'd purchased, actually hoping that Miguel approved. Jesus. What was I already turning into? As I moved away from the checkout counter, I passed an oversized window, the view of the busy street easy to see through the crystal-clear glass. Something made me stop short, taking a second and more concentrated look. The man standing at the very edge of the curb seemed ordinary in appearance even though he was staring directly into the store. Almost instantly, my skin began to crawl.
There were no overt signs of danger, no gun strapped to the man's waist. He was simply a guy dressed in jeans and a polo shirt, perhaps waiting for one of the customers inside. Then why was I shaking? I found myself walking closer, staring back at him, attempting to memorize every detail.
"What's wrong?" Sylvie asked in a low voice, peering over my shoulder.
"Nothing. I don't know."
She inched in front of me and as soon as she locked onto the man, she pushed me away from the window altogether. "Listen to me. Stay in this store and away from the windows and doors. I will be back." The look she gave me was intense, dominant in an entirely different manner than Miguel.
I watched as she raced out of the store but by then, the man had all but disappeared into the midday crowd. I moved closer, peering out as she bolted by, pushing her way through the scores of people. I moved toward the center of the store like commanded, my breath skipping as I eyeballed everyone inside. Every female in the store was looking in my direction, trying to figure out why someone like me would have a bodyguard.
After a full two minutes, the overwhelming need to find answers from my father crushed in on me. I would never have another opportunity to find a phone and contact him. I knew how to keep a low profile and when to hide if necessary.
"Is there a phone I can use?" I asked both of the store clerks.
"No public phones, sugar," one of the girls said, giving me a heated glare.
"It's an emergency," I retorted, darting another look over my shoulder.
"Okay. Thanks."
I continued to look over my shoulder as I rushed toward the counter. "Is there a phone I can use? It's an emergency. I have cash." At least Miguel hadn't taken away my entire world. My father had made certain I always carried at least a few hundred dollars with me at all times.
The woman behind the counter faced me, glancing up and down. "Sure. Long distance?"
"Yeah. Like I said, I have money."
She gave me another look then shook her head. "It's all right, honey. Looks like you could use a break."
I gave her a smile before scampering toward the landline phone, my hands shaking so badly I could barely dial the number. I was honestly surprised when my father answered the phone, his gruff voice sending both a chill down my back and butterflies into my stomach. "Daddy."
There was absolute silence.
"Why are you calling me?" he asked, as if my call was an interruption.
My heart ached even before I asked the question, but there was no time for anything else. "Did you make a deal with Miguel Garcia that I belonged to him?"
There was another hesitation.
"Did you?" I snapped.
"Business is business, Valencia. You always knew that. He owns you outright."
Owns me. I was forced to blink away the tears, stunned by his admittance. "And Mother is okay with that?"
"Your mother does anything I tell her to do. You're aware of that. As long as the money continues to flow into the house, she is very happy."
Swallowing hard, I could feel my blood chilling. "You are an absolute monster."
"I assure you, Valencia, there are worse men that you could end up with. The good business this will create is invaluable."
"To whom, Father? Yourself?" I knew he wouldn't answer. He didn't have the balls.
"I suggest you make the best of your situation. Now, if you don't mind, I have a meeting to get to."
He simply ended the phone call. Miguel had been right all along. I'd never mattered. I resisted slamming and breaking the phone, very carefully placing it on the receiver. Numb wasn't the word for what I was feeling. "Thank you," I said absently as I walked toward the door. Who cared whether an assassin shot me dead? What did it matter?
"I had to talk to my father. Just leave me alone."
She ripped off her sunglasses, squinting from the bright sun. "Are you fucking out of your mind? Miguel is going to be pissed as hell. Come on. I'm taking you home." She jerked me by the arm, pulling me down the sidewalk.