The Muscle Part One (7 page)

L
uca lay quietly
, Isabel’s dark hair fanned out across his chest. He knew she was asleep from the steady rise and fall of her slender back, the soft, rhythmic breath against his skin.

He’d just slept with the daughter of his employer. An employer who was violent and unpredictable. But it didn’t matter. Because now that he’d looked into Isabel’s eyes while he moved inside of her, he wasn’t going to leave her side.

Would she tell him her secrets now? Tell him the thing that haunted her, kept her prisoner in this house with a bastard like Diego calling shots? Forced her to raise Sofia here when he knew she wanted more for her little sister? For herself?

He didn’t know. He would have to take it slow with her. Show her that she could depend on him, that her secrets were safe with him. He didn’t know how long it would take, but he had the distinct feeling that they didn’t have all the time in the world. There was a storm looming on the horizon. He felt it in the tension seeping through the house like smoke in a three-alarm fire. In the way Diego’s eyes had darkened as he’d railed against Isabel and the way her gaze became shuttered when he asked why she stayed.

He kissed the top of her head and gently lifted her arm off his chest, then eased from the bed. For a minute, he just stared down at her in wonder, taking in the delicate face with high cheekbones and full lips, her gorgeous ass barely covered with the sheet.

Fuck. He hadn’t been lying. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

He pulled the covers up around her and bent for his clothes, then slipped on his jeans. He would have to wake her soon, but he wasn’t looking forward to the moment when she would leave his room. Now that he’d had her, he wanted her close to him every minute of every day. Wanted to hear her throaty laugh and breathe in her soft, musky scent, feel her hand in his.

There was a lot to work out before that could happen, but right now he was thirsty, and he thought she might be, too, when she finally woke up. He would go down to the kitchen, get them both a glass of water and maybe some ice cream out of the fridge, anything to delay the moment when she would have to go back to her own room.

He crossed the room carefully, not wanting to wake her, and eased the door open, then slipped into the hallway. He was getting ready to close the door behind him when he heard something down the hall: the soft click of another door closing.

He reached automatically for his gun, then remembered that he was in nothing but jeans, his chest and feet bare. Had someone been listening outside his door? Did someone know Isabel was in his room, naked and asleep?

A wave of dread settled into his bones. Getting Isabel out from under Diego would be difficult under any circumstances, but letting him know they were together was the worst possible way for it to go down. Any plan to save Isabel and Sofia would probably hinge on Diego trusting him. He hated to think about what might happen if Diego thought they were conspiring.

He would have to move fast. Because he had the distinct feeling time was running out.

“
W
hat are you looking at
, Isa?”

Isabel looked over at Sofia, doing pages in her spelling workbook while Isabel supposedly put the finishing touches on the new painting. What she’d really been doing was staring into space, replaying her night with Luca.

“Nothing,
mija,
” she said. “Trying to decided what this painting wants in order to be finished.”

It wasn’t true. The painting was perfect. Maybe the best thing she’d ever done. But she was seeing it differently now, the memory of Luca’s body moving inside hers granting her some kind of second sight. It seemed so much more than it had been even before last night when she’d gone to his room, knowing deep down that it would change everything.

The ache between her legs hadn’t subsided since she’d woken up to find him stroking her hair. They’d sat on the bed, him in jeans, her naked, and eaten ice cream in silence, their eyes meeting through the darkness of the room. They hadn’t gotten far before he’d swept her under him, his cock already hard against her thigh, his kisses forceful and demanding. He’d made love to her again, but only after she’d taken him in her mouth, felt him swell between her lips as she brought him to the edge of orgasm right before straddling him, lowering her pussy, already drenched with need onto his shaft an inch at a time until he grasped her hips and thrust upward into her.

“It looks finished to me,” Sofia said.

Isabel smiled through the passion pulsing in her body, embarrassed at the storm of physical sensation distracting her while she tried to have a normal conversation with her little sister. How was it possible to want Luca so much after everything that had happened to her? To find so much beauty in something that had been the most vile kind of ugly less than a year ago?

She didn’t know, but ever since they’d fallen to the sand together after her jump from the hotel roof, she’d felt the stirring of long dormant desire. Even more surprising, she felt safe, like he’d been sent as some kind of guardian angel.

Except that was too easy. Too delusional.

This wasn’t a fairy tale, and if it were, Diego would be the worst kind of villain. How could she have a chance to find happiness with Luca if Diego was hanging over her like a medieval executioner? She couldn’t. That was the answer. And that meant she had to tell Luca the truth. It would be hard and scary, but she knew him. She knew his heart. He would understand. He would have to.

“I’m hungry,” Sofia said. “Is it dinner time?”

Isabel turned to her with a smile. “You know, I think it is. Even better, I think it’s pizza time.”

Sofia’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

Isabel laughed. It’s not like she never let Sofia have pizza, but she didn’t want her little sister to eat junk food all the time just because she didn’t have parents looking after her. Isabel tried to cook for them at least a few nights a week, and pizza was usually reserved as a weekend treat.

But she was in the mood to celebrate. Her worry over Diego didn’t stand a chance against the euphoria she felt when she thought of Luca. She and Isabel would have pizza, maybe even watch one of Sofia’s favorite movies before bed time. Then she would figure out how she was going to tell Luca about the worst night of her life — and hope he would find a way to see past it and stay.

L
uca was standing
outside Sofia’s door, listening to the soft cadence of Isabel’s voice as she read a story out loud, when the guard named Juan came down the hall.

“Hey,” Luca said. “What’s up?”

He was still worried about the door he’d heard close on the second floor the night before. Had it been his imagination? Or someone returning from a trip to the kitchen or a late night swim? There was no way of knowing, but his instincts were nagging at him, telling him he was on dangerous ground.

“Having a little party in the media room,” Juan said. “Boss says you should come.”

There were few things Luca wanted less than to hang out with Hector and the other thugs, drinking beer and talking about women. And few things he wanted more than to stay right here, listening to Isabel read Sofia a story, waiting for the moment when they would be alone again.

“That’s okay,” Luca said. “I’m supposed to keep an eye on the girl.” It hurt him to call Isabel that. She was a woman — and the most amazing one he’d ever known. But he had to fit in, make the others think he was like them. And that’s what they called Isabel when they were being kind. “Tell Hector thanks anyway.”

Juan shook his head. “Not that boss. The other boss.”

“Diego?”

“That’s the one,” Juan said. “And he said everyone has to be there. Some kind of team building bullshit.”

Fuck. “Right. Let’s go then.”

They made their way down the stairs to the media room on the first floor. The party was already in full swing, the men swigging beers and doing tequila shots while Diego snorted coke off the coffee table from a rolled up hundred. Robert was playing pool with Albert, one of the other guards who usually patrolled the property, while some kind of music video played on the big screen TV.

“There he is!” Diego said expansively as he rubbed white powder from his nose. “The man of the hour.”

Luca’s gut tightened. He’d never been included in one of Diego’s little parties before. He didn’t know what was normal. Hell, everything was so far from normal on the Fuentes estate it wasn’t even funny. But he’d honed his instincts through years of survival on some of the toughest streets in the country, and later, with some of the toughest men.

And something told him he was in trouble.

“Why is that?” Luca asked, grabbing a beer from a bucket full of ice on the bar.

“You made it through your first two weeks here,
carnal,
” Diego said, throwing an arm over Luca’s shoulders. “That you’re still alive is something to celebrate.”

He laughed, and the other men joined in. Was it Luca’s imagination that they seemed nervous?

Luca smiled. “Then let’s celebrate.” He tipped the bottle back against his mouth but made a point not to drink. He had a feeling he was going to need to be sober.

Diego led him over to the couch and gestured at the coke on the coffee table. “Help yourself,
carnal
. Me coca es su coca.”

My coke is your coke. Nice.

He broke into a fit of laughter. Like clockwork, the others joined in. But yes, Luca had been right. They were nervous.

And that made him nervous.

He was reassured by the weapon in his holster, and he automatically scanned the room, looking for other things he could use if it came down to defending himself.

What he didn’t do is look for exits. It might have been stupid — he’d been taught by all his tactical training to scope for a way out when in danger — but he wasn’t leaving Isabel and Sofia behind anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“No, thanks,” Luca said. “I better stay alert if I’m going to keep an eye on Isabel.” He met Diego’s eyes. “That is why you hired me, isn’t it?”

Diego chuckled, but something dark shined in his eyes. “That is why I hired you. Absolutely. And from what I hear, you’re doing a very
thorough
job.”

Fuck. He knew. Somehow Diego knew Isabel had spent the night in his room.

“Just keeping her under control, like you asked,” Luca said, trying to keep his voice loose.

Diego clapped him hard on the back, and Luca had a sudden vision of what it would feel like to twist the man’s arms, break his fingers, smash his beer bottle into Diego’s face. “I think you’re just the man for the job.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

“I do.” He nodded, his face suddenly serious. “I really do.” His head snapped up to the TV as a new music video started. “What is this bullshit? Let’s put on some porn, man. Some good porn, you know what I mean?”

He started laughing, but when no one moved to change the channel, he threw his shot glass against the fireplace. “I know you aren’t deaf. So put on the porn. Like I said.”

Luca leaned forward on the couch, trying to formulate a way out. For him — and most importantly for Isabel and Sofia.

I
sabel closed
the book and carefully set it on the nightstand, then eased herself out of Sofia’s bed. Her little sister had fallen asleep sometime after the halfway point of the book, but Isabel knew better than to stop reading. Sofia always woke up when she did that.

Some people might have thought reading to her little sister was silly. Sofia was eight-years-old, and a good reader. She could have read to herself. But after their father died, reading to Sofia had comforted her. It had comforted Isabel, too. Now she was hesitant to stop the tradition until Sofia asked to read on her own. Until then, Isabel would happily sit in her room, reading by the light of the butterfly lamp next to her bed.

She shut off the lamp and pulled the covers up over Sofia, then bent to kiss her cheek before creeping from the room. She expected to find Luca outside the door, but instead the hall was empty.

She closed the door, her ears trained on something downstairs.

Music.

Music and voices, and even laughter. But it was the music that made her blood run cold. There was something familiar about it, and her stomach twisted into knots as she headed for the stairs.

A
t first Luca
thought it wouldn’t be so bad. Porn wasn’t really his thing, but he’d been around enough men to know that pulling it out at a party wasn’t exactly unusual. He pretended to take a drink of his beer, then scanned the room wondering what everyone else thought about the so-called celebration. But no one would meet his eyes, and the dread that had been in his bones since he’d stepped into the room expanded.

What was going on?

He glanced at the screen, not wanting to seem like a wet blanket. Wanting to seem like one of them. It was an amateur video; at least two guys and a woman. The woman was lying on her back, head turned, hair spread out, hiding her face while one of the men pounded into her. The camera lingered on his face, and Luca saw that it was Hector, Diego’s head of security, his face shiny with sweat, stiff with concentration while he drove into the woman on the bed.

Diego said something in Spanish to Hector. He laughed, but Luca was too busy looking at the video, understanding just beginning to dawn on him, to follow their conversation.

In the video, another man — one Luca didn’t recognize — moved toward the top of the bed, positioning himself over the woman’s face. He muttered something the camera didn’t quite pick-up, then started stroking himself. A moment later, he smacked the women’s face, and she turned toward the camera, eyes glassy, face slack.

That was when the bottom fell out of Luca’s stomach.

It was Isabel.

She was naked, and there was absolutely no doubt in Luca’s mind that she was being raped. She wasn’t unconscious, not exactly, but it was obvious that she’d been drugged, that she was helpless to move or even protest while two of Diego’s guards assaulted her in the most violent and personal of ways while a video camera captured every fucked up minute of it.

For a minute, Luca was paralyzed. He felt sick, his fury so overwhelming it was like ice slowly freezing the blood in his veins. And then he was on the floor, Hector’s face under his fists while he landed punch after punch, the bones crunching under his rage.

There was nothing else then. Just this man under his fists. This man who had hurt his Isabel. This man who would pay.

The first of many.

S
he wasn’t even surprised
. She’d seen the video once before, of course. The day after it happened, when Diego explained that she would sign any papers he put in front of her — necessary since she was named as executor of the money left to them by their father — and that she would stay in Coral Gables, do anything he said.

If she didn’t, he would release the video. Every tabloid in the country — and plenty overseas — would pick it up. Sofia would never be able to show her face at school again, not without people whispering and talking. Not without someone telling her the truth about what had happened to Isabel. If not now, then eventually. Nothing ever died on the internet.

She watched herself with detachment. The Isabel on TV was a different Isabel. She’d disassociated from her a long time ago. It had been a matter of survival. Because if she remembered that night, hazy as it was, she might jump off a hotel roof for real. Where would Sofia be then?

In Diego’s hands, that’s where.

And Isabel would never allow that to happen.

It took her a few seconds to realize that Luca was on the ground, his body jerking as his hand came up again and again, lowered again and again. Each time he raised it, there was more blood on his fists. Everyone was watching — Diego, Robert, Albert, the other new guard named Javier. They stood there, watching Hector be pummeled by Luca while all the while Hector and the man whose name Isabel tried to forget raped her on the big TV.

“Oh, look. It’s the little
punta,
” Diego said. “I thought I’d show your new friend your big film debut.”

He laughed, and Luca jumped up from the ground and crossed the room. He was inches away from Diego when Diego raised his gun, pointed it at Luca’s head.

“I admire your spirit,
carnal
, but it will only take you so far.”

Isabel stepped between them, and Diego lowered the gun so it was pointed at her chest.

T
he red wash
of fury that had seeped through Luca’s mind only started to clear when Isabel stepped between him and Diego, when Diego pointed the gun at her. Luca was suddenly, coldly, alert, every muscle in his body ready for action.

“No,
mi hermano,
” Isabel said softly. “You’ve had your fun.”

Diego hesitated, then grinned. “The fun doesn’t have to end here.”

“It does,” she said. “If I die, the money goes to the lawyers until Sofia is old enough to control it, remember? And if you kill Luca, I’ll kill myself before I see you get another cent.”

He hesitated, licked his lips, sniffed against the perpetually runny nose that was a side effect of his near constant use of cocaine.

“We’re going to leave the room now,” she said. “As long as we do, everything will be the same. I’ll keep signing your papers, giving you money.” She reached out and touched his face. Then spoke softly in Spanish. “No hagamos esta peor de lo que tiene que ser, Diego.”

Let’s not make this worse than it has to be.

Luca was raging on the inside. No. This woman would not stand in front of him, would not have a gun pointed at her because of him.

He stepped out from behind her, pushed her behind the shelter of his body. Diego raised the gun to Luca’s head. He had no idea what the others were doing, but the room was quiet except for the sound of Hector and the other man abusing Isabel on the TV.

Using her. Hurting her. Raping her.

Luca wanted to rip the room apart, set it on fire. Wanted to tear every man there limb from limb, beat them until they were unrecognizable. Make them hurt the way they’d hurt Isabel.

Make them pay.

And they would pay. That was a promise.

But first he had to get Isabel out.

“I’m going to take Isabel and leave the room now,” Luca said. “It will give us all time to calm down, and you have my word that we won’t leave the property.”

Diego laughed, and Luca winced at the maniacal sound of it. How much coke had Diego done tonight? How many tequila shots?

“You don’t tell me what will happen,” Diego hissed. “I tell you.”

“You can tell me all you want,” Luca said, his voice hard, “but I’m leaving this room with Isabel. You’ll have to shoot me to stop me, and I don’t recommend that.”

He couldn’t be sure Diego was clear-headed enough to see the threat for what it was, but he had to assume Diego remembered his background. Luca might not be a drug kingpin, but he had powerful friends. Executing him in a cocaine-fueled rage would carry risks, even for someone as powerful as Diego.

Hector moaned in the corner and Diego tipped his head in the direction of the beaten man. “Get him out of here.”

For a long moment, no one said anything. Finally, Luca turned, leaving Diego with the gun pointed at his back.

“Let’s go,” he said quietly to Isabel.

It took everything in his power not to take her in his arms then and there, but he needed to get her out of the room before Diego’s mood turned again.

Admiration overwhelmed him as she started for the door. She held her head high as she walked past the men who had taken pleasure in her pain, didn’t give a single one of them the satisfaction of even a glance their way.

He half expected to hear Diego’s gun go off, to feel a bullet slam into his back, until they were safely in the hall. Then he hurried Isabel up the stairs and into his room where he pulled her into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” he said into her hair. “I’m so sorry.”

She looked up at him, touched his face. “I learned to live with it long ago.”

He shook his head, overcome with ice cold rage. Then he pulled her back into his arms, held her close, stroked her hair. “I’m going to get you out of here, Isabel. Whatever it takes. I promise. And those fuckers are going to pay.”