Page 11 of Chris

“Mamá, watch me!”

Valeria already had one eye on her daughter, but she tipped the rim of her large, pink summer hat higher so that Maria could see her. She smiled, refusing to allow her six-year-old to see her discomfort about where they were staying. Maria liked the pool at her grandfather, Martín’s, mansion in Mexico City, but Valeria hated it.

Or better yet, she hated the people here.

Most of them.

“When did she learn to swim?”

The soft voice at Valeria’s left didn’t take her attention away from her daughter in the pool—safety first, and all—but she still answered Abril on the lounger. “Last summer. A friend and I took her twice a week to an indoor pool for lessons.”

“A friend?”

Valeria did her best not to roll her eyes at her sister-in-law. Six years on the run, and Jorge had caught up to her. It wasn’t Abril’s fault, and no one had ever found out the truth about how she helped Valeria all those years ago. She had been back in Mexico, under Jorge’s thumb, for a year now … and life was worse.

“Haven Murphy,” Valeria said, her gaze darting to the marble steps leading to the back of the mansion’s patio doors. It was a habit for her now—she looked for Jorge if she dared mention anything about her time when she ran away because if he was within hearing distance, or if someone else was that would tell on her, she would suffer for it later. “She thought it was a good idea.”

In her stark white, one-piece bathing suit that contrasted against her deeply tanned skin, Abril shifted to face Valeria more on her lounger. Valeria still kept one eye on her little girl in the water, just in case Maria became tired, and needed her ma to jump in after her.

“I would think you might be … furioso—angry—with her, after everything.”

Val blinked. “Why?”

“It was because of her that he found you, no?”

“I don’t blame her. It wasn’t her fault that someone leaked a picture from the private wedding to the public, and it was the one that Maria and I were also in, Abril. It was the circumstance, and nothing more.”

Valeria never understood how she befriended Haven when she found herself in New York a good year after taking off from Mexico, but she had never been more grateful for the friendship. For years, Haven was the only person Valeria had to rely on—they lived together, for Christ’s sake. And then when Haven met someone who was maybe as dangerous as Jorge had been for Valeria, she knew it was a risk to continue her friendship.

Except, she was scared to walk away.

She loved her friend.

Haven married that man.

Turned out, he wasn’t awful like Jorge.

The rest, from the wedding to the leaked picture, all brought Valeria right back to this hellscape Jorge liked to call home for her. And oh, he had been so fucking pleased to watch his men drag her through the gates of the compound, messy and fighting, while another man carried his drugged, sleeping daughter to him.

“We shouldn’t talk about that,” Valeria said.

“Hmm.”

Mostly, because it pissed Jorge off, and Valeria didn’t feel like dealing with her husband later in the evening. But also, because it hurt Valeria in her heart to think about the people she had left behind.

Haven.

Her best friend.

Chances were, she would never see Haven again. That would be to Haven’s best benefit, all things considered. Anything Valeria cared about, Jorge took note, and used it to keep her controlled, and to make her behave.

Even her daughter wasn’t out of bounds for him, the bastard. Valeria had learned over the last year since her forceful return that it was better to do what the asshole wanted from her than to fight him every step of the way.

One hurt less.

“Well, at least he allowed you out of the compound for this weekend,” Abril muttered, rolling to her back on the lounger, and tipping her matching white sunhat down enough to hide the sun’s rays from her face. “That’s a start.”

Yes, but for what?