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Prologue
“Be brave,Camila. When you make it through this hell, you will find paradise.”
Dark eyes held the promise I had no choice but to believe. My brother shifted from foot to foot as I ran my fingers along the wall of corrugated steel and traced the hole cut into the metal. Just large enough for fresh air. He glanced back once, then again, reaching behind him and patting his lower back.
Silently, he gripped my shoulder, urging me toward the back corner where a large space had been carved out among the boxes. A bag bigger than the one I carried sat swollen on the floor.
I had food, water, tissue, and hope that had to last until I made it to safety. Nothing could be worse than staying put.Nothing.
My brother kept his hand on his back. Sweat beaded his brow as he did a sweep of the space. He looked toward the door and then back to me. He was sending me to my salvation or my death, but either alternative was better than what I was leaving behind.
I threw my arms around his waist, hugging him hard. He briefly returned my embrace, and I felt the gun tucked into his waistband. I sat when he applied pressure and stowed my bag under my bent knees so I could feel it within reach. He touched my head, a myriad of emotions in his eyes, the most evident of which was his resolve to see this through. We both realized this was likely the last time we’d ever see one another. I couldn’t cry; emotion was a luxury I could no longer afford. Numbness was the key to survival.
I nodded once—a goodbye and an acceptance of my fate. Worry settled in his eyes, along with regret. I touched his hand in reassurance. He wasn’t to blame.
After a long moment, he turned to go, rushing down the wall of boxes to the light. With a loud creak, the light disappeared. A shifting of metal as the lock was secured told me there was no escape.
Pressing my eye to my small window to the world, I saw the sea and the setting sun, and I prayed God would never make me return to this place, even if it killed me.
Chapter One
Muriella
I’d never beenon a date.
In my thirty-six years, I’d perfected the art of saying no. I could make rejection feel like a victory of sorts for potential suitors, and that’s the way I wanted it. I preferred to let them down easily. It wasn’t their fault I didn’t trust men.
But my spotless track record of rejection had come to a screeching halt. No, I hadn’t finally decided to try something new. I’d been blackmailed into a date—threedates actually—with the hope of bringing my family back together.
I heaved out a sigh. Blackmail was a strong way of putting it. Nobody had forced me into this. It was simply easier for me to think in those terms.
“You’re wearing a hole in that dishtowel.”
Vivian flashed me a mischievous grin. I scowled as I continued to run the fabric with ‘Happy Thanksgiving’ embroidered on it between my fingers.
“This is your fault.” I paused long enough to point at her.
My best friend batted her lashes. “I know.”
“If I didn’t love you and Daniel more than life itself, this wouldn’t be happening.”
“And if I didn’t love you more than life itself, I’d have figured out a way to let you off the hook.”
Despite her somewhat normal demeanor, red, puffy eyes gave away the hell we’d been through the previous night. My fingers flexed in the towel. I hadn’t been that frightened in years.
Daniel’s business associates had broken into our home, tied me to a chair, and held me at gunpoint.
My wrists still burned where the ropes had bound them. When I’d entered Vivian’s and Daniel’s apartment, for a split second I believed I’d been discovered. Fear that I’d have to go back tohimconsumed me, until I realized the two men who had tied me to a chair were using me to get to Daniel. For a moment, I’d actually felt relieved, until I remembered that I was still tied up with a gun pointed at my head.
Daniel had protected me since I was a girl, but he’d let these people into our home, into our lives. His businesses were complicated, and we had an unspoken understanding I’d leave it be. But to have had no warning of what could happen if things went wrong was a shock to the system. So many old anxieties—well, terrors actually—had been unearthed by this violent intrusion. Coupled with this impending date, I was struggling to keep myself together.
I opened my mouth to tell Vivian I couldn’t go through with it, but the doorbell chimed before any words escaped. She skipped off toward the foyer.
I white-knuckled the towel braided through my fingers. I’d survived far worse things than this, but somehow that knowledge didn’t undo the knot in my stomach.
It was just Stone Jacobs. A man I’d known six years. A man I’d found to be kind, charming, easy-going, and well, pretty much perfect.
Three dates with a friend. No problem, right?
