Defending Raven (Mountain Mercenaries #7)(5)
Dave saw each and every one of the men frown in anger. Yeah, they knew what Zara meant. She’d already told them all about Ruben Martínez and his friends in the barrio. Zara guessed him to be in his mid-twenties. He thought he was not only God’s gift to women, but some sort of untouchable badass. He and his gang harassed everyone in the barrio and didn’t hesitate to take what they wanted, using force whenever necessary.
They were also the ones who’d beaten up Meat and Black. Every single one of the Mountain Mercenaries was hoping to have a run-in with the gang, if only for a little payback.
“All I’m saying,” Zara continued, “is that out of all the women I got to know, Mags is the only one who never talked about getting out of the barrio. She just seemed to accept her situation. Everyone else dreamed about either finding a husband wealthy enough to have a place to live outside the barrio, or getting back to their families in the countries they were kidnapped from to work for del Rio.”
“Raven’s life is not in Peru,” Dave stated. “It’s in Colorado, with me.”
Seeing the uneasy and pitying looks his friends were giving him, Dave couldn’t bear to sit still any longer. He sprang to his feet and resumed his pacing.
He didn’t know why Raven hadn’t attempted to contact him. He didn’t know what she’d been through over the last ten years, although he could guess. But none of that mattered. All that mattered was that she was still the woman he loved with all his heart. Nothing she’d done or been made to do over the years would ever change that.
He had no idea what he’d be up against when he finally set eyes on her again, but he wasn’t giving up on his wife, not after all these years.
Impatiently, Dave looked at his watch and swore. It was taking way too long to get there. And every minute that passed was one more minute during which Raven could slip out of his life without a trace. Again. Someone could hurt her, or she could be kidnapped again.
“I’m coming for you, sweetheart,” he whispered as he paced. “Just keep hanging on until I can get there.”
Chapter Two
Margaret “Mags” Crawford Justice held back a groan as she shifted on the hard-packed dirt in the ramshackle hut she was currently sharing with five other women. They were all at least a decade younger than she was, and she was feeling every day of her forty-two years.
Life certainly hadn’t gone the way she’d expected it to, but she had to keep going. One day at a time. It had been her motto for the last ten years.
She sighed in disappointment that she’d be spending all day in the barrio with her friends. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Gabriella and the others—very much the contrary. It was just that she much preferred Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays.
Her stomach was empty, but that wasn’t anything unusual. She’d gotten as used to the hunger pains as she had the dirt and filth all around her.
Mags rolled over and stood. It was still dark out, but she hadn’t been sleeping well lately. She worried about her friend Zara, who had gone back to the States a few months ago. She worried about Maria and the other women she lived with. She worried about Ruben and his gang of assholes who patrolled the barrio day in and day out. She worried about where they were going to find enough food to eat for the day . . .
And she worried about her husband.
It wasn’t often she let herself think about Dave, but for some reason, she hadn’t been able to put him out of her mind lately. Probably because Zara had returned to the US.
How Mags wished she could’ve gone with her.
Once upon a time, she would’ve done absolutely anything to get back to Colorado, back to Dave. She would’ve swallowed the deep shame she felt over everything she’d done if only she could see her husband again. To have his arms around her, telling her she was safe and loved.
But too much time had gone by now. Not only was she a completely different person than she used to be, and her husband had probably moved on and remarried, but she simply couldn’t leave. Lima was her home now, for better or worse.
Being as quiet as she could, Mags headed behind a piece of metal set up as a crude privacy screen and did her business in a bucket, something that would’ve disturbed her ten years ago, but now she didn’t even think twice about it. They didn’t have a lot of food left, and Mags wanted to get to the bakery quickly to have first pick of the day-old bread that was thrown away each morning. The shop was about a mile away, and she needed to get going.
But first she paused to check on the other women, who were still sleeping.
Gabriella had grown up in the barrio. She was the only native Peruvian out of the lot of them. Teresa and Bonita were from Brazil. Carmen said she was Venezuelan, and Maria was from Mexico. They were a ragtag lot, but they shared a bond most people couldn’t begin to understand. Except for Gabriella, they’d all been “guests” of del Rio’s. They’d been used and abused and tossed out without a second thought when they’d become useless to him. Other than Maria, they’d all learned Spanish after being kidnapped and all spoke with differing accents, but they were able to understand each other without issue.
Teresa’s eyes opened, and Mags crouched down by her pallet on the ground. “I’m going to the baker’s. I’ll be back as soon as I can,” she said quietly.
The other woman nodded. “Do you want me to come with you?”