That hadn’t been the only time he’d “protected” her. She’d been sixteen and had become a little rebellious. Not with Rafe. Never with him. But she always had shadows on her. Men who went everywhere she did. She’d gone to a movie and had slipped into the woman’s bathroom and she’d stayed there deliberately for a very long time, forcing one of the two men to come in to retrieve her.

She detested Marcel. He’d been the one to help kill April. Marcel had dragged her out and refused to allow her to see the rest of the show. She’d kicked up a fuss. In public, a serious break of the rules. He’d slapped her the moment they were away from prying eyes.

She never told Rafe, but he knew before she got home. He was there and his anger filled the room. Filled it. She stood in front of him, bowing her head, terrified of his wrath, kicking herself for being so stupid. She hated having men following her everywhere. She didn’t have friends to attend movies with, and she’d overheard the two men talking about how pathetic she was. She’d been crushed.

Rafe caught her chin with two fingers and tipped her face up for his examination. He pressed his palm to the cheek Marcel had slapped. Then he’d raised his eyes to Marcel and jerked his head at two of his personal bodyguards. The last she’d seen of Marcel, he was struggling as he was dragged from the house.

Don’t hurt him, Rafe. I was upset with them, something they said about me, and I acted stupid.

No one has the right to put their hands on you but me. Never, Catarina, not for any reason. I won’t stand for it. If you need to be punished, that’s for me to decide, no one else. Any man touches you, you tell me.

That had been the first time he’d ever touched her gently. His hand had skimmed her face and then moved to her hair. His eyes, usually so cold, held something for one brief moment she couldn’t understand. But she knew she would never, ever, tell Rafe that someone hit her, slapped her, or put his hands on her. She knew it was a death sentence.

Tuttle returned with the water and Catarina drank it down and then pulled her feet up on the chair beneath the table, sitting tailor fashion. She rocked gently, trying to soothe herself long enough to get through this.

“I’m sorry those things happened to you, Ms. Benoit.” Tuttle even sounded sorry. His eyes were gentle. “Are you certain you didn’t see the face of the man who killed April Harp?”

She swallowed down painful memories and shook her head. “I was forced to face her at all times.”