Just like my father.
I wanted to leave the lifestyle, to hide away in some foreign country, living like a normal girl. Instead, I'd been captured by the enemy.
To use.
To train.
To discipline.
To fuck.
His words remained in the forefront of my mind. Over my dead body. I would find a way to escape.
I'd overheard my father cursing Miguel's name, ordering his soldiers to shoot him on sight should he ever attempt to come into our country again. But my father had made a deal, using me as collateral in case he failed to honor the conditions.
I realized that he'd had no intention of honoring anything, including his relationship with his only daughter. I was nothing to him but a possession, just like my mother or his beloved cars and boats.
I sat back, contemplating what if anything I could do. I had girlfriends in this country. I knew that they would do anything for me. All I had to do was get access to a phone. That should be easy enough.
A single tear slipped past my lashes, further infuriating me. I certainly wasn't going to allow Miguel to break me. Not now. Not ever.
I turned my head, watching the two men as they bantered, their bodies animated. And they were paying absolutely no attention to me. I crawled into the driver's seat, darting my head in their direction again before slowly opening the door. I was able to slip out and latch the door without any noise. I remained crouched next to the car for a few seconds as I studied the area around me, hugging my purse close to my chest.
All I had to do was get to a phone then hide, waiting for my BFF to take me the hell away from here.
And the man who held my leash.
Anger surfaced once again, fury at not only Miguel's actions but being forced to accept I was simply a prized possession on every front. My father. My... lover.
I held my breath, taking another glance at the beefy soldiers, saying a silent prayer before darting around the vehicles next to me. The slight sound of my heels clipping against the concrete was enough to give me heart palpitations. When I heard the loud voice of one of the men, I struggled forward another few feet before yanking the shoes into my hands. I took off running toward the bank of elevators located at the far end of the garage. I just needed to get inside.
Come on. You can do it.
The little voice bolstered my speed, my legs pumping as I weaved in and out of several of the parked cars. This was my only option and even then, the outcome wasn't in my favor. A man like Miguel no doubt had soldiers positioned on every street within close proximity. I hiked up my dress, the damn material hindering my speed. They were right behind me. Jesus.
I shot a look over my shoulder, horrified to see they were within twenty feet, both shouting, cursing at me as if I was nothing but a runaway child.
I loathed the predicament I was in, hated everything including myself. I was within thirty feet of the elevator. Elation swept through me, a heightened level of adrenaline kicking in. I was confident. I was strong. I was ready to do anything I took to get away.
The slight pinging sound of the elevator was like sweet music, forcing me to concentrate on the task. I shot into another aisle. Headlights approached at a rapid rate of speed, a vehicle coming. My instinct screamed that they were racing toward me. I heard the screech of tires, as the driver raced around the corner, the car swerving from the momentum. Then everything happened in slow motion.
"Stop!" one of Miguel's men screamed.
"Gun. The asshole has a gun!" the other yelled, the sound echoing even in the open space.
My feet skipped along the broken surface, catching me off guard. I was propelled forward, stumbling, my body teetering, ready to pitch me toward the ground. No. No! Flashes occurred in my periphery of vision, a window being rolled down, my eyes able to focus on the barrel of a gun.
Pain roared through me as I attempted to catch myself, the action only shoving me hard against a metal surface.
I fell against the back of an SUV, stunned, my ankle screaming in pain.
And there was nowhere to hide, no way to get away from the approaching car.
I threw out my hands, a harried yelp pushing past my pursed lips. Please, God. Help me. Help... me!
Pop! Pop!
I went down with a brutal thud, everything in my body riddled with intense pain, a heavy weight shoved on top. I could no longer breathe, my lungs suffocated by the mass above me, my shoes flying out of my hand.
"Let me go. Please."
"Quiet. It's me. Stop struggling."
Miguel.
I'd know his sultry voice anywhere.
He wasted no time, gathering me into his arms, jerking me onto my wobbly legs and grabbing my heels, his body covering mine.
I heard another round of shots being fired, tires screeching once again and only seconds later, I was tossed into the open elevator, slammed against the back wall.
"Fuck. Fuck!" Miguel hissed, moving away from me long enough to smack his hands on the buttons on the console.
I took gulping breaths, the terror paralyzing. I closed my eyes, woozy from the pain, cowering in the corner. I had difficulty focusing but I could see the man, my captor moving to his full height, rage encompassing every inch of his face. When he slammed his hand against the side wall, I grimaced, jumping involuntarily.
His breathing remained ragged, the sounds of the metal box shifting the only thing I could concentrate on. He slapped his hand on the console again, the elevator jerking to a stop, the slight thud reverberating in my ears.
Miguel finally turned toward me, crowding my space, dropping my shoes and wrapping his hands around my wrists. When he yanked me into a standing position, I gasped at the vehemence. "What the fuck did you think you were doing? I told you to wait in the car. I made certain you understood that there were dangerous people who considered you a threat to their way of life. You were a stupid little girl. You almost died. If I hadn't been there, if my men hadn't been keeping watch over you then... Then you. Would. Have. Been. Killed."