Luna chuckled. “But of course! Why do you think I brought you with me? It would do me no good to leave on my own, for then, it may well be thought of as good riddance. But with you, my lovely puta, I am assured that I will have what I want soon enough.”

“I don’t understand.” Ginny stared at him in the faint flickering light of the fire; Luna was stretched out, his long legs crossed negligently at the ankles, and the tip of a cigar glowed bright red in the night air. “Why go to all this trouble?”

“I have my reasons. But you look so sad, pequeña. What is the matter? Are you afraid I will hurt your husband?”

“Hardly,” she said in a cutting tone that made his eyes narrow. “Steve Morgan will slice you to ribbons and filet your heart before you have the chance to move. Don’t make the mistake of underestimating him. It could be fatal for you.”

“And so you warn me. Is it possible you have developed a little softness for me? Ah, I see you glaring at me as if I insulted you. But it is true, is it not? I know women like you. You have the nature of a true whore, passionate and fiery.”

Refusing to allow herself to be goaded, Ginny looked away from him; stunted trees were misshapen silhouettes against the night sky, assuming fantastical shapes that made her think of monsters, the stuff of nightmares. But it was the real nightmares that were so dangerous, the men like Rafael Luna.

Within three days, they were high in the mountains of Durango. They had ridden through Zacatecas, as familiar to Ginny as her own face in the mirror. Was Steve following them? Oh God, did he even know that she’d been taken hostage by this madman?

By now, surely he should have overtaken them. But what if he wasn’t coming? Doubts tormented her, and even when they stopped in a small village posada for the night, with a bed and decent food, she was tense and on edge. It didn’t help that she was sick, wracked in turn by fever and chills. She tried to ignore it. Her very survival depended upon concentration.

“Where are we?” she asked, and he surprised her by answering.

“Not far from Parral. Ah, you know it?”

She nodded. “Yes. I went there once, several years ago, when it was occupied by the French. Where are we going?”

“That depends on how swift your husband is. If all goes as I plan, this humble abode may be our final destination.”

When she stared at him, he laughed. “You may soon have a chance to see your husband alive. Are you getting anxious? Perhaps he will be so obliging as to reach us tonight. If not…there is tomorrow night. But he will come. I have made certain of that.”