Page 9 of Wrecked By You

“And I have to be there because…?” I left the question dangling.

“Because you’re part of the fucking family, whether you like it or not.”

I flinched, glad this was a voice call and not video so Ash couldn’t see my reaction to his bald statement. I was well aware I’d kept my family at arm’s length since the attack that had almost claimed my life, but I’d spent so long withdrawing into myself as I’d tried to come to terms with what had happened that by the time I’d emerged through the other side, damaged, struggling,different,I hadn’t known how to find my way back.

I still didn’t know how to find my way back. The man I’d been had died on that hotel floor in a pool of blood. This new version of me was hard and abrasive, and while I knew my family grappled with the enormous change in me, their struggle was nothing compared to my own.

I shook my head of thoughts that always brought on a bout of depression and sighed.

“Fine, I’ll be there. But in the future, maybe consider me and the needs of my business rather than some fucking outsider.”

I hung up.

There’d been no need to end things like that, but sometimes, God help me, sometimes I just couldn’t help myself.

And it always made me feel like shit.

Chapter4

Ella

Chocolate and raspberry cookies

solve all problems.

The sweet smellof freshly baked cookies greeted me as I pushed through the front door, a lightness to my chest I hadn’t felt in a long time. Hope, maybe, or relief. Whichever, I’d take it. The weight of juggling paltry finances and constantly looking over my shoulder had begun to take its toll, and I felt far older than my twenty-four years.

That’s what happens when you marry a drug baron.

Growing up, I’d been one of life’s rarities: a true innocent, although nowadays, with a few more years on the clock, I’d describe myself as gullible.

I’d believed that people were inherently good and honest. I’d believed my husband when he’d told me he was a successful businessman. I’d enjoyed the trappings of wealth and the jealousy of my former school friends as I paraded around town showcasing the latest designer purse and wearing five-carat diamond earrings.

They said that pride came before a fall. Well, I’d fallen. Hard. And I knew, deep down, that I’d have to run for the rest of my life. But worse than that, my beloved baby, Chloe, would have to run, too. And unlike me, she was a true innocent.

Oh, my husband hadn’t been physically abusive. Anything but. He’d treated me like a rare jewel, an endangered species, a coveted prize to be protected and cosseted. At least, that was how I’d seen it through ignorant eyes. Now I recognized it for what it was: control.

Mateo liked to own things, and I was just another one of his possessions. And, by extension, so was Chloe. He’d never let us go, never give up searching for me and his daughter. In his own way, I believed he loved us, but it was a tainted kind of love. He’d lost custody of his property, and he’d search the ends of the earth until he recovered what belonged to him.

I’d seen what he was capable of, how he’d reacted to those who’d tried to take what was his. That fateful night still haunted my dreams, the night a rival gang had broken into our house and tried to kidnap me and Chloe as a way to force my husband to give up some of the territory he’d stolen from them. Innocence was a beautiful thing, until the force of a thousand men ripped it away.

And once my eyes had been opened, I couldn’t shut them again, couldn’t pretend I didn’t know how Mateo provided for the life I’d enjoyed for five years, ever since I’d walked through the wrought-iron gates of his compound in Oklahoma and sold my soul to a devil in disguise.

It had taken me six months to stash away enough money to tide me and Chloe over and make plans to run. It hadn’t been easy, especially after Mateo had increased our security tenfold following that night, but with copious planning, a little bit of luck, and a child who’d slept through the entire dash for freedom, I’d done it. I’d escaped.

But I wasn’t free, not really. I’d never be free. The best I could hope for was to stay one step ahead and keep my baby safe.

“I’m home,” I called out, hanging my purse on the coat hook by the front door.

Ginny, my savior, appeared from the kitchen, an apron tied around her middle, and a sprinkling of flour in her gray hair. I’d met Ginny, quite by chance, the day after I’d arrived in Los Angeles. I’d taken Chloe for lunch at a diner, and to escape the flea-bitten motel room we’d stayed in the previous night. She’d spilled her milkshake all over the table, and when I’d told her I couldn’t afford to buy her another, she’d burst into tears. Ginny had come to the rescue, and the next thing I knew, we were chatting like old friends and she’d offered us a place to stay.

I’d refused, of course. I didn’t know this woman and she didn’t know me, and after Mateo, I was naturally suspicious of people, especially those who did good deeds for no reason. But she’d worn me down, and I’d agreed to stay for a few days until I got on my feet.

That was five months ago, and every time I broached the subject of moving out, Ginny would, in a masterful display of “getting her own way,” tell me that, of course, if I wanted to leave a lonely old woman rattling around a too-big house, then that was my prerogative. And then her eyes would twinkle and I’d laugh, and the subject would get shelved for another few weeks.

The truth was, I couldn’t afford to move out even if I wanted to, which I didn’t. Ginny was like the grandmother I’d never had—both my maternal and paternal grandparents had died when I was a little girl—and Chloe adored her. I only raised the subject every now and then to make sure Ginny had a way out. She never took it, and I didn’t push.

She hadn’t asked me about my past, and I hadn’t come forth with any details either. Nor did I intend to. The only way to keep Chloe and me as safe as possible was to keep where I came from a secret. I couldn’t afford to trust a single soul, not even one as big-hearted and kind as Ginny. Besides, it was better for her that she remained in the dark. That way, if Mateo caught up to me and I had to run again, Ginny could say with one hundred percent honesty that she knew nothing.