“Luisa,” he said, gently running his other hand down my side, feeling carefully for anything broken. “Stay with me, darling. I’m getting you out of here. Can you walk?”

I nodded. “I think so,” I said, my voice so painfully raw.

He looked at my broken finger, at my toes, at the wounds in my arms and legs from the Taser, at the bruises on my face. The more he searched me over, the more broken he looked. I couldn’t let him lose it if I hadn’t yet. Now was not the time.

“I’ll be fine,” I said, trying to get to my feet.

He gripped me by my arms and carefully pulled me up. I wobbled a bit on my feet, dizzy from the lack of food, and fell into his chest. He immediately wrapped his arms around me and held me tight. It took everything I had not to break down crying.

He kissed the top of my head. “I should have never let you leave.”

“I never should have left,” I said softly. I had regretted it the moment I stepped into the house, the moment I realized that Salvador would probably have my parents killed anyway. For once, I hated how selfless I had been.

“I’m going to kill him,” he growled, and I could feel the anger and tension starting to roll through him. “I want to kill him more than I’ve ever wanted to kill anyone. I want to do everything he did to you to him, but worse. I want him gone.” He sighed in frustration. “But I made a promise not to.”

That surprised me. “To whom?”

“The DEA,” he said. “They’re the ones who got me in.”

“You made another deal with the Americans?”

He pulled away and stared at me intensely. I had missed his eyes so much, the power inside them, the passion and strength. “I would do anything to get you back. And I did.”

“But your cartel,” I started.

He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. None of that matters. Only you matter, Luisa, only you.” In the distance, the gunfire reigned. He paused. “But it will all be in vain if I don’t get you out of here. I’d tell you I need you to be strong, but I can tell you already are.”

I managed a smile, refusing to let fear enter my veins anymore. I wouldn’t fear with him by my side. We would make the world pay.

“Give me one of your guns,” I said, holding out my good hand, which was thankfully my right one.

He grinned at me and reached into his boot, pulling out a handgun and placing it in my hand. “Try not to shoot the guys with DEA on their backs. We might get in trouble.”

“Save that for another time?” I said, not really joking either.

He planted a hard kiss on my forehead. “Goddamn it, you’re perfect.”

He led me out of the bathroom and into the adjoining guest bedroom. We were almost out in the hall when one of Salvador’s guards appeared.

Javier pulled me down and shot the man just as another guard appeared. From my position on the ground, I somehow managed to aim the barrel and pull the trigger.

I hit the second man right in the chest, and he stumbled backward against the wall before toppling over on his fallen comrade.

My heart galloped wildly, loudly, and it felt hard to breathe.

I had just killed a man.

Me.

Just like that.

Javier looked down at me in awe before helping me to my feet.

“How did that feel?” he asked in amazement, peering at me closely.

My breathing had returned to normal and the adrenaline was starting to coax through my veins. My flesh tingled all over. I swallowed as I looked at him, sharing his wonder.

“It felt good,” I told him honestly and not feeling the tiniest bit ashamed. “Almost like sex.”

He shook his head, his nostrils flaring. “Stop that,” he said gruffly. “I almost came just from seeing you pull the trigger.”

He brought me to the hall, and after checking both ends, we ran down it, heading away from the gunfire that now sounded like it was coming from the foyer. He darted into the room of David, Salvador’s asshole assistant, and I could see where he’d already come in. The French door and the table on the balcony were already smashed, David’s dead body lying amidst the damage.

I spit on his body as we stepped over the corpse and onto the balcony. In the distance a helicopter was flying and I could see a few of them on the lawn. The grass was littered with bodies, most of them Salvador’s men. Bullets still ripped through the air, though I couldn’t see the combat.

“We’ll go on the roof,” Javier told me, staring up at it. “That way one of the helicopters can pick us up and we’ll be safer. We can see anyone coming from below and we’ll pick them off.”

If we stood on the edge of the balcony’s railing, there was a small overhang that would be easy to climb up on, at least for him. Escape was so near.

“I don’t know if I can pull myself up,” I told him, starting to panic a little. “I don’t have much strength.”

“I’ll pull you up,” he said confidently. He quickly eased himself onto the railing, balanced himself, and then jumped up onto the ledge, needing to pull himself up a few feet.

And while he was doing that, his back to me, I felt a gun press against my temple and an arm hook around my neck. I dropped my gun in surprise and it went skittering over the balcony edge.

Heavy breathing seeped into my ear.

Fear gripped my heart.

Salvador.

By the time Javier found his footing and was turning around to see what caused the clatter, I was completely under Salvador’s control. The look of utter outrage and madness strained Javier’s face. I knew he wanted nothing more than to tear Salvador from limb to limb, but that would never happen now.

Now that he had me. Now that he would kill me in front of Javier.

“Javier, Javier, Javier,” Salvador said, his voice raspy. “Finally we meet in person. You know, you’re a lot smaller than I thought you’d be, even with you way up there.”

His chokehold around me tightened and I tried to pry him off with one good hand, giving me a few more inches of breathing room, but the strength just wasn’t there. I was slowly losing air.

“Let her go,” Javier commanded, his voice steady despite everything. “Do what you want with me, but let her go. You’ve already hurt her enough.”

“Really? I don’t think I have,” Salvador mused. “Tell me, Javier, when you were fucking her, did she scream for mercy like she does with me? Did you make her bleed too? You must have. Nice carving job, by the way. For an amateur.”

Javier swallowed. I could see how hard he was breathing, how difficult it was for him not to whip out his gun and try and shoot Salvador, promise to the DEA or not. But he couldn’t, not when I was a hostage once more.

“Let him kill me.” I managed to get the words out to Javier. “Let him kill me, just make sure you kill him. Make him suffer.”

“Shut up!” Salvador roared in my ear. “I will kill you, but then he’s next. He doesn’t even have his gun out. Fucking pussy.”

The gunfire in the background had started to die down. The helicopter that we had seen in the distance was now long gone. I wondered what side was winning now. I wondered if they’d come and find us only after it was too late. I could only hope that if Javier and I were dead, the DEA would ensure that Salvador suffered, that he would never get out of jail alive, that our deaths wouldn’t be for nothing.

“So what do you want, Salvador?” Javier asked, raising his hands. “Why are you doing this? Just shoot her now if that’s what you want.”

“You’re as fucking crazy as she is,” Salvador said, sneering. “Don’t the two of you have any respect for death? You of all people, Javier, should know the importance of making a show of it. Of making it last. The true torture doesn’t come during death—it comes in the moments before. When you know it’s about to happen, but you don’t quite know when. Just like now.”

Javier’s chest heaved. I could see his wicked brain working on overdrive, trying to come up with a way to at least save me if not himself. I could also see he had no options to go on. For all the fury he was carrying, I caught the sorrow on his brow. I saw the soft way he was coming to terms with the end.

But that didn’t mean I had nothing. Even if it meant us getting shot, I at least had to try for the both of us. I welcomed the end more than he did. I had nothing to lose.

I held Javier’s eyes with mine and then slid my gaze over to the partly-healed gash on Salvador’s forearm where I had driven in the piece of glass last week. I couldn’t reach around with my own arms and touch it, but that didn’t mean I was powerless.

When I saw the nearly invisible hint of recognition in Javier’s eyes, I knew it was time. I drew upon my reserves of anger, of injustice, of pure unadulterated rage that I had coiling deep inside me. I let those feelings, those hot, swirling, pulsing emotions wrap me up into an uncontrollable tornado that had nowhere else to go. Then I gave it permission to fuel me, to become my strength.

I screamed, a raw, brutal sound that ripped out of my gut and my throat, and used all my power to twist Salvador’s forearm toward me. I bit straight into his wound, tasting the blood, loving the blood, relishing the feeling of my teeth plunging in deeper and deeper, tearing through muscle and nerve and causing so much pain.

The next thing I knew Salvador was screaming, caught off-guard by my violence, and Javier took that moment to whip out his gun and shoot.

He aimed for Salvador’s shoulder. He got it.

Salvador spun back, out of my teeth and grasp, but not before he took his own gun and fired it at Javier as he fell.

I thought Salvador’s aim would be off.

But it wasn’t.