Page 21 of Her Faithful Protector

Camilla broke into a cold sweat, praying that her mom wouldn’t answer the phone. He reached down with his meaty paw. It was dirty, his fingernails were black. He must have seen her cringe because he laughed again.

“Poor princess, she doesn’t like having to live in the real world. Get your ass up here.” Camilla gave him her hand and he swung her up like she weighed nothing. She landed on her knees with a thud onto the hood.

“Isn’t this a pretty picture?” He roared with laughter in Spanish. His men and Maria clapped. Camilla pushed herself into a standing position, jutted out her chin, and forced herself to look in El Jefe’s face.

“Oh look, she’s all brave.”

More laughter.

He grabbed her chin and jerked it sideways, then he jerked it back the other way. “Not bad. If her parents don’t pay, we can make some money if we sell her.”

Don’t listen. Don’t listen. Think of something good. Something precious. Hazel eyes staring down at her, as his hand stroked down her belly—

“Listen to me!”

Camilla lurched over as he punched her stomach with the satellite phone. “Make the goddamn call.”

She fumbled with the phone and caught it before it hit the hood. Gasping for air, she looked up at El Jefe, trying to make sense of what he was saying.

“—better hope your mother answers the phone since your daddy didn’t call back.”

Camilla bit back a sob and then sucked in another deep breath.

“Use the phone, bitch.”

It was hopeless, she had to make the call. With trembling fingers, she dialed. It barely had a chance to ring and she heard her mother’s voice.

“Camilla?” She’d never heard her mother sound so upset, so utterly frantic.

“Camilla, is it you?”

“Mother—”

El Jefe yanked the phone out of her hand and shoved her off the Jeep. She grabbed at the top of the vehicle, trying to stop her fall. But her efforts just swung her around so that her chest hit the hubcap. The bolts bit in deep as her head hit the hard rubber tire before bouncing off the ground.

“Owww,” she cried out. Her mouth tasted like dirt and copper.

“Just tell me what you want,” her mother was saying.

“What is your daughter worth to you?” El Jefe chuckled.

“Let me talk to her.”

Camilla rolled onto her back. Looking up she could see the canopy of trees and a small swatch of angry gray clouds. She grunted as the phone hit her belly in the same spot as last time.

“Talk to your mommy, chiquita.”

Her arms didn’t seem able to move, her hands felt like lead. Camilla rolled to her side, letting the phone slide to the ground.

“Camilla,” she heard her mother say through the speaker. “Talk to me.”

She pushed herself up so she was leaning against the wheel. Was her shoulder broken? She couldn’t move her right arm. She picked the phone up with her left hand and dropped it in her lap.

“Mother,” she lisped. Blood drooled down her chin.

“Is that you Camilla?”

“Yeth, ith me.”