Page 63 of Chris

The vacation home, as Jorge dubbed it, sat tucked away in isolation, as much as their ranch did. Perhaps, more so. Dry, desert land surrounded the ostentatious house from all directions, with no neighbor or civilization in sight.

Valeria had never understood the draw of the vacation home—could it really be that when it was in the same country as their usual home? It was the same size as her father-in-law’s mansion, except out in the middle of nowhere, and without power unless all six generators were running, which caused a racket when one was trying to sleep.

Besides that, the house was just … big. Three levels, reaching toward the sky, a separate wing for whatever men Jorge brought along, and the servants that kept the house running when no one was around to live within its walls. There was no guest house like the ones at the ranch. That meant everyone would sleep in the same house, walking the same halls, and eating at the same table all weekend.

Didn’t that sound fun?

Valeria thought not.

A large pool in the back stretched across dry land, and while landscapers had come out to decorate, Valeria still felt the place was ugly, and lonely. Or maybe that was the projection because of her own emotions, and current situation. She couldn’t be sure, but she didn’t like it here.

Valeria walked through the home—watching servants scatter into the closest room whenever they heard Jorge’s boots coming down the hallway—at her husband’s side while he gave Chris a tour. She had other things to do, like hide away in her room, and go back to her daughter at the end of the weekend.

Jorge made it clear this weekend was nonnegotiable for her. Valeria was coming along whether she wanted to, and Maria wouldn’t. Simple as that. It put her on edge to think of her daughter alone with that nanny all weekend.

Although, she knew Maria was also safe because nothing would save the woman from Jorge—certainly not his affection for her—if she thought to put her hands on their child. That didn’t mean she liked her daughter spending more time with Carla than was necessary. Not that she cared to explain it to Jorge because this was just another way for the bastard to keep Valeria in line.

“And now,” Jorge said, taking the stairs leading into the basement slowly as they sloped sharply, “the tunnel.”

The keys in Jorge’s hand jangled with every step he took. Valeria had to walk carefully in her heels, more so than the man in front of her. Jorge didn’t notice, or if he did, then he didn’t care. A hand came to rest on Valeria’s back, and while it shocked her, her body only relaxed from the soft touch.

Chris.

His hand on her back let her know she was safe, and if she missed a step, then he would be right there to catch her. For whatever reason, and she blamed poor planning, they situated the light switch at the bottom of the stairs. She had seen the tunnel before, so there wasn’t very much about this tour that was new or amazing to her.

Jorge flicked the light on, illuminating a stark, white hallway that led to a set of double steel doors at the end, a good twenty feet away.

“There’s nothing else down here?” Chris asked.

Jorge waved a hand for them to stay where they were at the bottom of the stairs as he headed for the doors at the end. “Cement in this section. We filled the rest of the space in because we didn’t need it. The basement is finished and furnished in other areas—bedrooms, and whatever else. Some storage, too.”

Chris shot Valeria a look, but for what, she didn’t know. So, she shrugged as a non-response. He didn’t seem to mind.

Using the keys he’d brought along, Jorge unlocked the metal doors at the end of the corridor. It took an effort for him to pull the doors open to showcase what rested behind. Once he did, Jorge stepped back with a smile and a nod at the dank-smelling, dark tunnel the metal doors kept hidden.

Chris made a noise under his breath. “How is it ventilated?”

“A couple of different ways.” Jorge shrugged. “A few pipes here and there that come out of the ground, and when someone is working in the tunnels, we force air through them.”

“And this is the closest one to the American border?”

“We’re still quite a ways away, but sí.” Jorge gestured at the dark hole, asking, “Care to inspect?”

“Not particularly.”

That earned a chuckle out of Jorge.

“Don’t blame you, amigo. I won’t go inside them, either.”

“I take it this isn’t where I will sleep for the weekend,” Chris said, his attempt at a joke flying way over Jorge’s head when the man gave him a pensive look at the other end of the hall. “I’d like to relax. It was a long drive.”

Jorge nodded. “One of my men will show you which rooms you can use for the weekend. Find one and ask.”

“Thank you.”

Chris gave Valeria a quick smile, but didn’t linger. If Jorge witnessed the exchange between the two, he didn’t say. The receding footsteps echoed up the stairwell until a door opened and clicked shut. By the time she turned around to wait for Jorge to lock the doors back up, he was already down the hall and coming her way.

The doors at the end?