“So you did.”
“So I did.” And he’d paraded me around half-naked to men with leering eyes who made all that exposed skin feel slimy, who made my stomach flip over.
In bed that night, after our first sexual encounter that felt a lot like it had with my marriage, he’d pulled me to his chest and asked me why I made him hit me, why I’d emasculated him, why I’d hurt him that way.
And so the cycle started.
Prolonged periods of relative peace, followed by an outburst that left me bleeding or with scars. Immediately after would be the shift of blame for the incident and then a period of love-bombing.
“Until, eventually, he didn’t feel the need to even bother with the love-bombing anymore. He had me. He knew he did. There was no way for me to get away.”
“By the time you realized what was going on…” Cary said, waving a hand out.
“Exactly. There was nothing I could do.”
“When did you realize it?”
“Honestly? I’m not sure there was one moment of clarity. I think it was like waking up from a really deep sleep. I noticed things little by little.”
Like the fact that there weren’t just guards stationed around the house to look for threats. No. I had my own team. Who watched everything I did, then reported it all back to Raúl. Who would then punish me for anything he didn’t like.
Like there were cameras all around. In places where there didn’t need to be cameras. Like my room. Like my bathroom.
I never got a moment of peace.
Eyes were always watching me.
“And then I tried to test my theory,” I admitted.
A part of me had been so sure it was just paranoia, that I was losing my mind a little to be thinking so many conspiracy theories about this man that I thought I loved, that I thought loved me.
But then I tried to walk down the driveway one day.
Not only had guards closed in, but they’d called Raúl home.
“I’d been quick enough to spin a story about how I was just trying to take a walk, that I thought I needed some more fresh air and exercise.” I even told him that I wanted to get more fit to please him, though I felt a little too disgusted at that to even admit it to Cary. “But it confirmed my growing fears.”
I tested it a few more times over the next months and years, finding that with each attempt, Raúl seemed to get more and more suspicious of me. Which made him watch me even more, which made his disapproval and punishments of me ever-more severe.
“Sometimes there wasn’t even a cause anymore. He just used me to vent his frustration.”
“I’m sorry, love. No one should have to go through that.”
My gaze darted down to my plate as my eyes started to glisten.
God, how long had it been since anyone had shown me a shred of kindness? A drop of sympathy?
Too long.
Hell, maybe no one ever had.
“It got bad enough that I started to plan an escape. It took a long time. In movies and TV, they always make it seem so easy to monitor the comings and goings of guards, figuring out the cameras, getting the timing perfect. In reality, it took me months for each task.”
I carefully stored away all the information, repeating it over and over to myself so I didn’t forget a single thing since I couldn’t write anything down.
“But then it started to occur to me how difficult it would be to get out of Mexico. Let alone away from him for good. Raúl might not have ever loved me the way I thought he had, but he absolutely saw me as his. He could never allow me to get away. It would be a weakness for him.”
“Wish I could say you were wrong, but I don’t think you are. Seems to be that way with a lot of the organized crime syndicates. They like absolute control. And appearances are important to them. They can’t show any sign of weakness. Losing your woman would be a sign of weakness to them. As asinine as that is.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I could feel it within hours of getting out of there. Eyes everywhere. I know that sounds like paranoia, but…”
“But cartel leaders really do have eyes everywhere,” Cary filled in.
“Exactly,” I agreed, nodding. “I’d always known his reach was far, but I think I underestimated how far. I managed to fly under the radar thanks to the hair change and all the makeup, but no matter how far I got from Raúl’s house, I could see the eyes scanning the crowd. At the border crossing, there were actually a couple guys flashing my picture around on their phones.”
“That must have been terrifying.”
If there was a word that meant something worse than terrifying, that was exactly what it had been.
I managed to take my full deep breath a state or two after I got over the border, but it wasn’t until I tracked down Cary that I felt like there was a chance I was going to get away with it.
“Yeah,” I agreed. “I know I have no place coming here,” I started, sucking in a steadying breath. “I just… I had nowhere else to go,” I admitted. “You’re the only person I know that is, you know…”
“A criminal,” he filled in for me, making my guilty gaze rise, feeling like scum for thinking of him that way, even if it was true. “It’s okay, love, you can say it. I’ve been a criminal since I was hardly more than a kid. It doesn’t offend me that you’d call me that. It’s what I am.”
“It sounds judgmental.”
“It depends on who is saying it. I’m not taking offense from you. If you don’t mind me asking, how did you find me?”
“Well, I knew that when you got out, you would go back to what was familiar. Bike clubs. I used some logic, location-wise. And then I just… watched a couple clubs, trying to find you.”
“You watched bike clubs? Outlaw bike clubs?”
“I, ah, yeah. I realize how dangerous that seems,” I admitted. “But, honestly, it was a hell of a lot safer than not finding someone to help me, and risking Raúl finding me.”
“Fair enough,” he agreed.
“I lucked out here in Navesink Bank. I asked a couple questions at the local coffee shop about the club members, saying I was looking for an old friend. The girls working there told me there was someone named Cary at the club. I figured there wasn’t much of a chance that there were multiple guys named Cary in one-percent bike clubs. So I showed up. And Mr. Congeniality told me he would go get you.”
At that, Cary let out a little dry laugh.
“Yeah, Voss is, well, practically feral. I’m glad you found me Abigail.”
“I’m not asking for much,” I rushed to say, not wanting him to think I was going to ask for cash or something based on some silly mail relationship we’d had ages ago. “Just some, you know, advice would be really appreciated.”
“Advice,” he repeated, reaching up to run a hand through that salt and pepper beard that had no right to be as appealing as it was.
“Yeah, just, I don’t know. Like how I could maybe disappear or whatever. I don’t know where to go, or what to do when I get there. Like how not to leave a paper trail, so I can stay under the radar.”
God, I sounded ridiculous, didn’t I?
“Or, I don’t know. Like where I might be able to get a fake ID and passport or something. I guess the further I get, the harder I would be to find. I mean, I don’t have any money right now. But I will find some little jobs or something to earn what I will need. I will do anything,” I added, desperation slipping into my voice.