Page 2 of The Hero's Bride
“Something will eat him with only three legs,” the girl stated and looked up at him, gaze pleading. He wasn’t sure what she wanted him to do, but he wasn’t the type of kid who would leave an animal defenseless. His parents probably wouldn’t even notice if he slipped it into his carry-on. Airport security might though. Then he’d be in deep shit. Deciding the iguana was worth the risk and wanting to ease the look of concern on the girl’s face he started to speak. “I’ll take him back to the hotel.”
A shy smile lit her face, and she nodded.
“Thanks again. You’re very brave for helping me.” He reached into his pocket and removed all of the Mexican pesos. “Please take this. It might help your family.”
She glanced down at the money with wide eyes, then back at him. “Thalia,” she whispered, tentatively taking the pesos from his hand. “That’s my name.”
“Thank you for what you did today, Thalia. I won’t forget you. And I’ll take good care of the lizard for as long as I can.”
She nodded then rushed forward and wrapped her arms around his hips, shocking the shit out of him, before dashing back into the forest.
He watched until she disappeared, wondering what else he could’ve offered her. The pesos seemed insufficient for saving his life. He looked down at the lizard sleeping in his palm. “I’ll call you Tiny. I told her I would take good care of you,” he said. “And I will.” He moved out of the forest and toward the resort with the iguana carefully nestled in his palm and Thalia, the green-eyed girl, on his mind. He was sure he’d never forget her for as long as he lived.
Chapter One
Thalia Flores wasbound and gagged in the trunk of a car. Although delirious from the Texas heat, she began to think of her confines as an industrial oven. Sweat trickled down the small of her back and dampened her hair against her face and neck. She took a shallow breath in through her nose and tried to calm the hysteria bubbling through her chest. She’d angered her employers before, but helping their daughter, Vivienne, try to escape a forced marriage was apparently the last straw. And she’d do it again. Despite how awful and cruel Vivienne’s parents were, Vivienne was her friend, and she had needed one when she first arrived in America, alone scared, and soon realizing she’d be more of a slave to her wealthy buyers, Agatha and Donald Day, than an employee.
The expression on Vivienne’s face when her father had dragged her from the rehearsal dinner venue was a look she wouldn’t soon forget. She thought Mr. Day would beat her or have someone else do it, but instead, he’d marched her out of the venue’s parking lot and forced her into the car of a man she didn’t know. He’d lifted his shirt slightly, revealing a gun. That was all it took for her to stay silent and comply when he pulled to the side of the road a few miles from the venue. He tied her hands, gagged her, and shoved her roughly into the trunk. Maybe she’d been stupid not to try to escape sooner. Would they have really shot her if she’d tried to run in the parking lot?
An angry tear slipped down her cheek. Anger at herself for getting into the car. Anger at the people who had controlled her for so many years. Anger at her father for sending her away. Her body bounced as the car went over several uneven surfaces. Earlier she’d tried to kick out the taillights, hoping to signal another driver, but they seemed to be reinforced somehow. That was hours ago. At least, that’s what it felt like. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the car, but with each breath it seemed like the oxygen was thinner and her heartbeat threadier. Without warning, the vehicle abruptly stopped, and her body rolled, slamming into the back of the trunk. She could no longer feel her arms, zip-tied behind her back. Her feet were also numb from the binding around her ankles.
Maybe at the beginning of her ordeal, she would’ve had the strength to lift both legs and kick her attacker, but now her body was drained. Her best bet was to wait for the first opportunity to escape. Muffled voices sounded outside the trunk. Gravel shifted and crunched as the talking grew louder. Her heart raced frantically, and her breath caught. The men were speaking Spanish—not uncommon in Texas, but something about the tone and dialect made a trickle of unease unfurl in her gut.
There was a clicking sound as the trunk opened. Blessedly cool air flowed into the stifling space, bathing her heated skin. She quickly tried to take in some details about her surroundings, but it was dark. The glaring beam of a flashlight shined into the small space, and she winced, shutting her eyes tightly as the men continued to talk in harsh tones. As one man leaned into the trunk, she caught the glint of a badge on his chest.
Police officer. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean the officer was here to help her, especially if they had crossed the border into Mexico. In a country where poverty and crime were rampant, people often had to make hard decisions for the safety of their families.Just like me.For a moment, the stream of light bobbed as the police officer handed the flashlight to her abductor. There was pressure on her wrists and something hard flopped against her side. It took her several seconds to process that it was her arm. Her hands had been bound so tightly and for so long, her limbs were dead weight. The man repeated the process with the ties around her ankles before grabbing her waist and throwing her over his shoulder. The jarring movement knocked the air out of her lungs.
The police officer said nothing as his heavy boots shifted over the gravel and dirt. His grip faltered as he attempted to open the passenger door of a truck. He swore and gestured to the other man to open the door. Metal hinges creaked and she was tossed onto the seat, and she slumped over, unable to use her numb arms to stabilize her body. She glanced out the window as her abductor handed the police officer a thick envelope and turned away. Her lungs seized as hope of a rescue was crushed. The officer lumbered around the front of the vehicle, his body illuminated by the headlights. He was stocky and moved slowly. She might not be able to overpower him, but she could probably outrun him. The driver’s side door jerked open and he pulled himself behind the wheel then yanked the gag from her mouth.
“Not a sound,” he rasped and turned the keys in the ignition. “Not that anyone will look twice at a screaming woman where we’re going.”
She attempted to lick her cracked lips only to find her tongue was just as dry. “And where is that?” she croaked.
A hint of a sneer crossed the man’s face and without warning his fist flew into the side of her head. Pain exploded in her temple and white dots blurred her vision.
“I said not a sound.”
The man’s voice sounded far away as the cab of the truck seemed to tilt around her. As delirium and a possible concussion pulled at her, her mind swam with images of a boy. Eyes the color of a dark blue sky, just after the sun vanished below the horizon with hair the oddest shade of chili-pepper red.
Chapter Two
Mason “Red” Williamscrossed the hall of his condo building and knocked on his neighbor’s door. It wasn’t unusual for Mrs. Foster to take her time answering, so he waited patiently. Tiny, who was no longer a small fragile reptile, lifted a scaly arm and scratched lightly on the door. At nearly five feet long and pushing twenty pounds, the lizard had become more like a dog, following him everywhere he went. Except of course, on missions. Guilt slipped through him. After nearly three months assisting Mexico’s military to disband a massive drug ring alongside his teammate Sully, he was leaving again. When they crossed the border into Texas after his last mission, he’d had a message from a friend, Iron, seeking help to find a missing person. They’d met while stuck in a military hospital. While his gunshot wounds had healed, Iron had lost his leg, and debilitating PTSD had led to an honorable discharge.
Footsteps sounded on the other side of the door before the dead bolt slid from the lock.
“Oh! Tiny, you came to visit me.” The woman leaned over and patted the iguana on the head while Mason chuckled.
“Nice to see you too, Mrs. Foster.”
“I’m sorry, dear.” She straightened and gave his arm a grandmotherly squeeze. “Please come in.”
“I wish I could. Another mission has come up.”
“Again?” Tiny rubbed his head against Mrs. Foster’s leg, vying for her attention. “You need to tell your commander that he works you too hard.”
The visual image of Mrs. Foster laying into his lieutenant commander made him chuckle again, but this mission wasn’t at the request of the United States Navy. “I don’t think that would go over well. I was wondering if Kenny could check in on Tiny while I’m away.” Mrs. Foster’s grandson kept several snakes and a bearded dragon and had been looking after his iguana for years.
“He’d love that. You don’t need to pay him nearly as much as you do, though. Not when we enjoy Tiny so much.”
