Taming Blaze Read online

  would come for you. My fear was that he would use you as leverage, harm you to get to me. And I couldn’t have that happen. That’s why I had to bring you here.”

  “How did you find us?” It was the only thing I could think of, a technicality, smaller than the question I wanted to ask, the big one - the question about who killed my mother.

  “I have a man on the inside. One of Guillermo’s bodyguards. And you -” he nodded at Blaze. “One of the contractors who helped build your cabin was not difficult to bribe.”

  Blaze’s face was stony. What was he thinking? Shit, what was I thinking? I couldn’t think clearly, that was for sure.

  “How do you know he wants to hurt me?” Maybe this isn’t as bad as it sounds.

  “When I was released, I spoke to him,” Benicio said.

  “And, what, he said he was going to kill me?” That was beyond belief. He would never do that. “I don’t believe that.”

  Benicio shook his head. “Of course not,” he said. “I wanted to tell him I was released from prison, not sneak up on him like some kind of coward. But I let him know he could have the contents of the bank accounts he wanted- in exchange for you.”

  “What?” I inhaled sharply, the air cool. In exchange for you. Like I was fucking property. “What do you mean?”

  Benicio held a hand up. “I realize that sounds terrible. I’m not some kind of caveman. But I had no way of knowing if your father loved you. He could be all of these monstrous things, yet still be a father who loved his daughter. I needed to know whether or not he loved you.”

  “And?” My voice sounded shrill to my ears. “What did he say?”

  “He said he would trade you for the cash. He would agree to never see you again if I turned over the accounts.”

  I felt like someone punched me in the gut. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be. My father might be many things. He might be a thug, a murderer, a human trafficker even. But he was my father and he loved me. I knew he did.

  “No,” I said, shaking my head. “It’s a lie. He would never agree to something like that. In fact, this could all be some elaborate ploy. Everything, all of this, could be some scheme. My father said someone was trying to get to him, trying to hurt him by hurting me.”

  “It’s a reasonable concern, and one I thought you might have,” Benicio said. “Which is why I brought you this.” He handed me a small box, and I opened it, my hands trembling. When I saw what was inside, I gasped, nearly dropping it. I held the locket in my palm, turned it in my hand, and read the inscription on the back.

  “Yours through eternity.” I choked back tears as I looked at Benicio, angry at him for bringing this to me, for disrupting my life. “Her killer would have this. How do I know you’re not her killer?”

  “There are letters, from your mother. They’re addressed to you.” He handed me a small packet.

  I wanted to scream. I couldn’t deal with this.

  “She wrote to me in prison,” Benicio said. “She wanted you to have those. She suspected your father would kill her one day.”

  No, no, no.

  I held the packet, my hands trembling. I was not going to cry, not here.

  “She was going to leave your father,” he said. “She was planning to leave and take you with her.”

  “No,” I croaked. “I can’t believe - I need to get out of here-” I stood, faltering. I felt dizzy, like I was going to pass out. Then Blaze’s arms were around my waist.

  “Is there someplace we can go?” Blaze asked.

  “Yes, of course.” Benicio led us down the hall, and I leaned against Blaze. I felt numb, like a zombie, going through the motion of walking, as I followed them down the hall to a bedroom.

  I put my palm on Blaze’s chest. “No. I want to be alone.” I couldn’t look at him. Instead, I closed the door behind me and collapsed into a chair. I just stared at the packet. I had cried so much this week over the dumb stuff that happened with Billy and now, here I was, presented with the most important news of my life and I felt empty. The well had finally run dry and I had nothing left.

  Not Guillermo’s daughter.

  Guillermo killed my mother.

  I was Benicio’s daughter.

  Guillermo wanted to trade me for cash.

  So, I was worth half a billion dollars. At least I fetch a large sum, I thought.

  I looked at the envelope in my hand, my breath catching. Letters from my mother. I was afraid to open them, terrified of reading them. She had been gone since I was fourteen, and I had done my best to close the door on her death. I was afraid to hear her words from beyond the grave. Or worse, to realize that they weren’t her words and that this was all some cheap ploy, a power play of some kind by Benicio. I would get my hopes up that I might finally have answers and then it would all come falling down like a massive house of cards.

  I steeled myself, bracing for the emotional impact as I pulled the sheaf of paper, yellowed with age, from the envelope. My heart stopped. I recognized my mother’s handwriting immediately. I traced the loops of her cursive, my fingers lingering on the letters. It was hers. Then I saw the first two words.

  Mi Vida

  My eyes brimmed with tears. My life. It’s what she had called me when I was young. I no longer had any doubt these were written in her hand.

  If you are reading these letters, then you know everything, and I am gone. You should know that I tried my best- I saved for years. I thought I could escape and take you with me. I had a plan to run away with you. If you’re reading this, then you know that plan failed. I failed, and left you with him. The monster.

  My heart lurched, and I felt bile in my throat. She had meant to go away and take me with her. The last day I saw her, the day she had dropped me off at school, she had told me she would pick me up early. And I had complained, whined about leaving. The memory returned as if it had happened yesterday.

  She drew me toward her, pulling me tightly against her chest, standing on the sidewalk outside school.

  “Mom, come on! My friends are going to see!” I pushed her away, already embarrassed that my mother walked me to school. It was completely humiliating. I was fourteen- too old to be walked to school by my mom.

  “Mi Vida,” she said, her hands on the lapels of my thin jacket, straightening it, smoothing it with her palms. “Listen to me.”

  “Mom, I have to go. I’ll see you after school.”

  “Listen to me,” she said, her voice sharp. “I will pick you up early today.”

  “What? No, I have soccer practice after school. Don’t you remember?”

  “Listen, Mi Vida.”

  “No. If I miss soccer practice, coach will be pissed.”

  “There are more important things,” she said, her voice soft.

  “Whatever, mom. I’ll just get kicked off the team and everything will be ruined.” I pushed her away. Samantha and Marie called from the steps of the school. “I have to go, Mom.”

  “I love you, Mi Vida.”

  “Love you too, Mom.”

  I never turned around to look at her. I just walked away to meet my friends. I never said goodbye. It was the last time I would see her alive.

  I swallowed, my throat constricting. I felt like my heart was being torn in two. Then I cried, for the mother I’d lost. For the way I’d said goodbye, a stupid selfish fourteen year old child who couldn’t be bothered to even look at her as I walked away. For the father I didn’t know. And for the man who raised me to know him as a father, the one who murdered my mother. I cried until I had no more tears left to cry.

  And then I read the rest of the letters.

  You should know the story of your father and I - Benicio, your real father. He would die to protect you, like he would do for me.

  I read on, through the pages of letters she had written for me, the pages that told the story of her and Benicio, how she had loved Benicio and had burned with hatred toward my father for putting him in prison.

  I listened to his heart beat,