**Mateo

My men had ascertained days ago that Agustin Rodriguez did not have my Lucia, as he’d claimed on the phone. Apparently, he’d wanted Arena—no, Catalina—back and had come up with the cruel ruse. I was prepared to rip his drunken head off, but if Catalina was Efrain’s true mate, well, that did put a crimp in things.

Though, I suppose I should have been thanking the bastard. Because of his slurred threats, I at least found out that Lucia had indeed been ...