“You were blind too, Dad, so blind that you couldn’t see what you did to MaMaL—”
“You want to know what I did to MaMaLu?” Warren’s eyes flashed with indignation. “I saved MaMaLu. That’s right. I saved her. El Charro and his men would have killed her. Prison was the safest place for her. Out of sight, out of mind. I paid Victor a small fortune to make sure Esteban was looked after and that MaMaLu got everything she needed in Valdemoros. I don’t know if any of that money made it to her. I suspect Victor used that money to start up his private security business, but that’s irrelevant now. As soon as we were settled in our new home, I was going to send for MaMaLu and Esteban, get them new identities, and sponsor them over. I owed it to her. A new life, a fresh start. But it didn’t work out that way. She died before I could get them out. I went looking for Esteban, but his uncle was gone and he had disappeared. There was no trace of him. No one knew where he went or what happened to him. I closed that chapter of our lives with a heavy heart, Skye. I burned the letters you wrote. It broke my heart, but I wanted to protect you. You were so young, I was sure you’d forget. I thought it would be easier if you assumed they’d moved on.” Warren sighed and sank down onto the chair. “If there’s one thing I regret, apart from not leaving Mexico while your mother was alive, it’s MaMaLu. And if Damian wants to come after me for that, fine. But I’m not letting him get away with this.” He gestured to Skye’s bed and all the machines beeping around them.
Skye closed her eyes. So many misunderstandings, so much time wasted, each man standing stubbornly in his corner.
“Damian needs to know what happened, Dad, what your intentions were.”
“He never gave me the chance to explain, did he? He just made his assumptions. Judge, jury and vigilante justice. He kidnapped you, hurt you, and he permanently injured a man. Victor will never have use of that arm. The doctors have reattached it, but the nerves are severed. That’s irreversible.”
“It was self-defense!” said Skye. She was sick of the endless tug of war. “Victor was under contract with you. He knew what he was getting into. The risks go hand in hand with his job. Damian didn’t have a weapon. He was hurt. It was Victor who threatened him with a gun.”
“Why?” Her father looked exhausted. “Why do you have to fight me at every turn? Let me handle this, Skye. One day you’ll look back and you’ll see. You’re not yourself right now. You don’t know—”
“Enough!” Skye cut her father off. “Enough.”
That was when the old Skye switched off and a new Skye took her place.
“I’m done,” she said. “I’m done with you. And I’m done with Damian. I won’t let either of you use me to get to each other.”
Nick urged her to turn down the plea bargain that Damian’s lawyer offered, but Skye knew that if the case went to trial, they would paint Damian as a monster and have her testimony negated. Everything they had shared would be sullied and violated. And so, she came to an agreement with Nick and her father. They wouldn’t subject Skye to a psychiatrist if she didn’t force their hand, if she kept her mouth shut about Damian letting her go.
And so she sat there, in the court room, staring into her lap, even as her face burned where Damian’s eyes skimmed over her. Her love had not been enough. He had retired one gun, only to pick up another. When push came to shove, her love had not been enough.
The judge sentenced Damian to eight years, because he had shown remorse by pleading guilty, and had spared the court the time and expense of a lengthy trial.
Nick and Warren didn’t look too happy, but it was a time frame they had anticipated and come to terms with.
Rafael gave Damian a curt nod as they handcuffed him.