Free Son of a Gun by Joanna Wayne

Portuguese, French, German, Italian and perhaps others. That’s basically all I know of his background since he never shared personal information about himself. He thrived on combining the ostentatious with the clandestine. And on maintaining complete control of every aspect of his environment, including people.”
“You still haven’t mentioned his name.”
“Because I hate even saying it out loud. And because telling you opens the door even wider for you to get involved in my problems and with this monster.”
“I’m not going to do anything foolish.” That was the best he could promise.
“Caudillo.”
She spat it out as if it would burn if it lingered on her lips.
“A warlord,” he said, acknowledging the word’s meaning.
“Right, and it was an apt moniker for him, though I can think of a few others that would fit even better.”
“Was that a first name or a last name?”
“It was the only name he ever used whenever I was around. I seriously doubt it was legitimate.”
“So how did you hook up with him?”
“He had dinner on the island that first night. He invited me to his table, said it was bad luck to eat alone in paradise. Corny, I know, but I was in a fantasy-vacation frame of mind. At any rate, for the rest of the evening, he centered all his attention on me.”
Damien pictured the two of them in the island paradise and couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy.
“We spent the next two days together,” Emma continued, “walking on the beach, swimming in the surf, dining on seafood delicacies and sipping expensive wines that he supplied from his onboard selections. It was the perfect island experience. A bit surreal. Temporary. And seemingly harmless.”
“I take it Caudillo had a darker side.”
“Try midnight-black. But he was charming when it suited his purposes. It never once dawned on me that he already knew a lot about me or that my job back in Nashville was what attracted him to me.”
This was growing more bizarre by the minute. “What’s your job?”
“I was a tech agent with the Bureau of Alcohol, Tobacco, Firearms and Explosives.”
“What specifically does a tech agent do?”
“They can have any number of duties. Mine was to track sales of automatic weapons and to report any suspicious or bulk movement of arms. I worked out of the Nashville office and had for five years.”
“So back to Caudillo.”
“He invited me to dinner on his yacht. We watched the sun set from one of his many decks and then he gave a toast to our sharing a long and fulfilling relationship. I sipped the wine. That’s the last thing I remember. When I came to, the yacht was cruising across the Caribbean, and Misterioso Island had disappeared from sight.”
“He kidnapped you?”
“And held me captive for ten horrifying months before I escaped to the Mexican mainland, changed my appearance and crossed the U.S. border under the radar, knowing it would be watched by Caudillo and his henchmen. You know the rest of the story.”
Rage erupted inside Damien with a vehemence that sent adrenaline rushing though his veins. He hated to even imagine what this man had put her through while he held her captive.
Humiliation…torture…rape… His stomach clenched. “Where did he take you?”
“To his Caribbean-style mansion on his private island of Enmascarado, though parts of it were more like a fortress.”
“From which he sold illegal arms,” Damien said, quickly putting that part of the puzzle together. “Was he arming drug cartels?”
“I’m not sure who he did business with, but I can tell you that no matter how ruthless and evil his customers were, they can’t compare to Caudillo.”
And Emma had been with this psychopath for ten long months. A sick realization ground in his gut. “Is Belle Caudillo’s daughter?”
Emma shook her head. “No, nor is she mine.”
“Wait, you’re not Belle’s mother?”
“I told you this was complicated.”
He listened as she told him about Belle’s mother dying in