Right before I pass out, his grip on my throat eases, and I choke out, “Yours”… even as my body convulses in a paroxysm of agonized ecstasy, the orgasm sudden and startlingly intense as much-needed oxygen rushes into my lungs.

Frantically gulping in air, I slump against him, trembling all over. I can’t believe I came like this, without Julian touching my sex at all.

I can’t believe I came while being afraid of dying.

After a moment, I become conscious of his lips grazing my sweat-dampened cheek. “Yes,” he murmurs, his hand now gently stroking my throat, “that’s right, baby…” He’s still buried inside me, his hard cock splitting me apart, invading me. “And what’s your name?”

“Nora,” I gasp out hoarsely, quivering as his fingers trail down from my neck to my breasts. I’m still wearing my sports bra, and his hand burrows under the tight material, cupping my breast.

“Nora what?” he persists, his fingers pinching my nipple. It’s erect and sensitive from my orgasm, and his touch sends a fresh ripple of heat down to my core. “Nora what?”

“Nora Esguerra,” I whisper, closing my eyes. It’s a fact I will never forget now—and as Julian resumes fucking me again, I know that Nora Leston will never exist again.

She is gone for good.

II

The Estate

11

Nora

Over the next couple of weeks, I slowly acclimate to my new home. The estate is a fascinating place, and I spend much of my time exploring it and meeting its inhabitants.

Besides the guards, there are a few dozen people living here, some by themselves, others with their families. They all work for Julian in one capacity or another, from the oldest generation to the youngest. Some—like Ana and Rosa—take care of the house and the grounds, while others are involved in Julian’s business. He may have only recently returned to the compound, but many of his employees have lived here since the time when Juan Esguerra—Julian’s father—reigned as one of the most powerful drug lords in the country. To an American like myself, such loyalty to an employer is unfathomable.

“They’re well paid, provided with free housing, and your husband even hired a teacher for their children a few years ago,” Rosa explains when I ask her about this unusual phenomenon. “He might not have been here much in person, but he’s always been good at taking care of his people. They’re all free to leave if they want, but they know they’re unlikely to find anything better. Besides, here they’re protected, but out there, they and their families are fair game for nosy policemen or anyone else seeking information on the Esguerra organization.” Giving me a wry smile, she adds, “My mother says that once you’re a part of this life, you’re always a part of this life. There’s no going back.”

“So why did they choose this life?” I ask, trying to understand what would make one move to a weapons dealer’s isolated compound on the edge of the Amazon rainforest. I don’t know many sane people who would do something like that willingly—particularly if they knew there was no easy way to return home.