part0042

“A ddy,” he said, “wake up; we have to leave.” I turned over to him, blinking with sleepy eyes and savoring the way the soft light from the glow of the bedside lamp hit his face. I committed the image to my memory. He stared down at me, looking deliciously appetizing as a pair of jeans hung from his hip bones. He quickly tucked himself in and buttoned.

“Not yet,” I moaned, “it's too early.” Feeling exhausted still, the last thing I wanted was to roll out of bed.

“We’ve slept the day away. We need to move.” Gabriel was short with me. “Charlotte is packing your things at the moment. I suggest you get up there, and help her, if you want any input on your wardrobe.” Gabriel had turned back to his normal self, back to the calm manner in which he controlled every aspect of his life. And mine.

“We’re leaving the island?!” Nearly bolting upright, I paused. “Where are we going?” I asked, pulling the comforter up to my chin, and trying my best to hide the soreness that covered my body. Every time I tried to move, I was reminded of the tenderness between my legs.

Gabriel strode over to me, leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Go get dressed, pack your things, and meet me in the courtyard in twenty minutes. There’s a bottle of Advil on the nightstand. I suggest you take some.” he said, reading me so clearly.

Hart spared little time getting dressed, glaring at me all the while. Now clad in dark, navy blue jeans, a black, v-neck shirt, with a black, canvassed jacket, he looked ready to disappear into the night.

“So help me Adeline, if you do not get up, right now—.”

“You’ll what?” I teased, “Spank me?”

“Don't tempt me.”

“Now where's the fun in that?”

His head swiveled, shocked. “I’ve corrupted you,” he declared. “Either that or being exposed to the elements has done away with you.” Shaking his head, he added, “Take some Advil and get moving. We are leaving in twenty minutes promptly. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

Smiling, I said, “I think you’ve already proven you’re capable of finding me.” Remembering how he emerged from the woods, I asked, “How did you find me, anyhow?”

He rewarded me with a soft chuckled. “I told you, I’d find you, and I would. Now—.” Shoving his phone and wallet into his pocket, he took a large step toward me.

Grabbing the small bottle of pills, I threw back the covers before he could close the distance, tossed him his soiled shirt as a way of distracting him, and mumbled under my breath, “so bossy,” before padding barefoot up the stairs to find Charlotte. She had already begun packing my things.

They weren’t mine.

They were his, but not mine.

“Which one's better?” She asked, holding up a pair of black pumps and red strappy sandals.

“Those.” I said pointing to the strappy pair. The red strapped sandals, while only a few inches high, came with buckles the sheltered the ankle. The notion of ankle support was a newer concept in my life, and one I did not feel like abandoning anytime soon.

Charlotte and I spent the better part of ten minutes packing the necessities along with other things not so necessary. Walking over to the vase full of what Gabriel considered to be weeds, I grabbed one of the little white flowers and pressed it into a napkin and folded it between the pages of my borrowed book. Charlotte smiled, watching me as I shrugged my shoulders. “It’s the little things.” I explained.

Her smile only widened.

Turning to her, I asked, “Do you have any idea where I'm going?”

“No, I don't. He wouldn't tell me,” she confessed.

“You’re not going with?” I stopped packing.

She shook her head. “No, this is where I belong,” she smiled.

“Do you think he might be taking me home?”

She looked at me hesitantly. It was enough of a sign to know that wherever I was going, it was safe to assume it wasn't New Orleans.

My hair had been pulled up into a bun to prevent the strands from sticking to the fresh ink. The skin was still red along the outlines of the white tattoo. I had thrown on a baggy sweater and jeans, not sure exactly what was in store for me.

Grabbing the suitcase, I stood in the doorway and looked back at the room, feeling a sense of relief knowing I would be leaving it, and all of the other bad memories behind.

I met Gabriel in the courtyard a few minutes later. His luggage had already been carried off by one of the guards, while another stood next to him, waiting for mine. I handed the bag to him as he walked ahead of us. The sun had already set, and the sky turned black.

“Will you please tell me where we're going?” I begged.

“No.” He immediately caught my stare, and added, “I'm asking you to trust me.”

“Trust and blind faith are—by definition—very different.”

“I’m not a cult leader, Addy,” he huffed under his breath, slightly annoyed.

Are you sure about that?

He caught my watchful gaze, reading my mind. He held out his hand waiting for me to take it. I did, just as he gave my hand a gentle pulse. He shook his head again. “Not a cult.”

A moment later, one of the guards rolled up in a black SUV, and we both climbed in. It was relatively a short ride, but long enough to let my worries sink in. When the car stopped, it was at the base of a small jet already fueled and waiting on the tarmac.

I gazed out the window for a moment, and then back at him. “You can't be serious.” I said, appalled.

“Very.” He looked at me, gauging my reaction, before my eyes fell on the metal beast before me. “Addy, look at me.” I did. “The rules are still in effect. I don’t need to remind you, do I?”

Rules. Ugh. I fought the urge to roll my eyes.

When I first met Gabriel, I knew him as Hart—only at the time, I didn't know that was his last name. He had given me three rules that day, meant to keep me in line more than anything, but the more I grew to know him, I had learned that he preferred to exercise control in every aspect of his life, and the lives of those closest to him.

The first rule—to be respectful—was not one I thought I’d ever struggle with, but he certainly made it challenging for me, preventing even the subtlest of gestures, such as eye rolling. My face scrunched in annoyance at the very thought.

The second rule, which I felt was more of a two-way street than anything, was to be honest. This one had been even more challenging than the first. While I did not generally make a habit of lying, finding myself surrounded by dangerous men, made me want to protect the little privacy I had left.

Nonetheless, the hardest rule of them all was the last one. His voice filled my thoughts, reciting the memory as if it was only yesterday. Don’t ever run from me.

The irony was not lost on me, as the last time I had run, it was under his instruction.

I sighed, “I’m scared.”

“Don’t be,” he said as the knots in my stomach twisted tighter, bringing the nerves to the surface. “What is it?” His eyes caught mine.

Shaking my head, I started to panic. “I can’t do this.”

His eyes found mine, his voice a chilling warning. “You can either get on that plane willingly, or I can throw you over my shoulder. Your choice.” The air around us grew quiet. I nodded, telling him I understood as I stepped out of the vehicle, standing at the base of the stairs.

My breath hitched, knowing full well that he would spare no reservations with following through. Taking a deep breath, I focused on anything else but the fear in the pit of my stomach. “It’s not that,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m afraid of flying.”

The flashback of the night they had taken me resurfaced. At least they had the notion to keep me drugged that time. I only remembered a few bits and pieces of the helicopter ride.

He looked relieved. “You are truly one of a kind,” he chuckled. “You have continuously shown me the courageous, lively, and headstrong personality behind those gorgeous blue eyes, but you’re afraid of flying?” Hart’s body shifted when I didn’t reply. “You have a higher chance of being struck by lightning than that plane going down. I would never put you at risk; I employ the best.” He nodded toward the aircraft. “Come,” he said, “I’ll introduce you to the pilot.”

We made our way toward the jet; my heart pounded every second I climbed the flight of stairs to the cabin with Hart a step behind me, more as a safeguard should I try to turn around, than anything else.

The plane was larger than I thought it would be on the inside. My eyes surveyed the interior. It had been a modest, modern design with leather upholstery, carpeted flooring and what appeared to be a small bedroom in the rear of the jet.

“Oh?” Startled, my eyes fell on a familiar face. “I wasn’t expecting company.” I said, surprised to find Marc rounding the corner from what appeared to be the restroom.

“You sound disappointed,” he laughed, his thick, South African accent was warm and friendly as he turned to the flight attendant and ordered a drink. She batted her eyes at him, but he appeared to be oblivious.

Marc stood taller than Gabriel, but not by much. He was older than Gabriel too—the white whiskers of his beard stood out in contrast to his dark, umber, skin and black eyes. His strapping, well-built frame and wide shoulders were something both men had in common, only the pistol wrapped around Marc’s chest in the shoulder harness seemed to be every bit of a necessity rather than an accessory to him. In a way, his gun appeared to be an extension of himself.

Marc’s eyes caught mine as I looked at the weapon, but his face gave nothing away.

Stepping forward and breaking my stare, Gabriel shook Marc’s hand. “Thank you. I won’t forget this,” Gabriel said with a curt nod to his friend.

“My pleasure;” Marc replied. “It’ll be just like old times.”

I smiled, remembering what it was like to have a friendship like that, and instantly thought of Emilee. I wondered how she was doing.

A moment later, the pilot emerged from the cockpit, greeting us both. The pilot, a man in his late sixties with a full white beard and bushy white eyebrows, shook Gabriel’s hand and then mine. Although it wasn’t easy to notice, despite his age, he seemed agile and quick, and his grip was strong.

“Addy,” Gabriel’s hand fell to the lower curve of my back, “I want you to meet Mr. Harrow; he will be flying us today.”

“It's nice to meet you,” I said, giving him a soft smile.

Gabriel interjected, “Addy has some reservations about flying. I thought you might be able to put her at ease.”

Mr. Harrow nodded, and understood. “Well Ma’am,” he said, a southern drawl breaking through to the surface, instantly making me think that he might have resided in Texas at one point in his life. “I’m not quite sure what I can say to comfort you, other than,” he paused, smiling, “You’ve got no reason to worry.”

I wanted to roll my eyes. I never understood why people did that—tell you exactly what they think you want to hear, when in reality, it’s not at all comforting. Had it been—I would have simply told myself that, and moved on, but instead, I pressed for more. “How long have you been a pilot, Mr. Harrow?”

“Nearly my whole life, Ma’am” he replied. “And I’m still standing here.”

“Previously military?” I asked, the faded haircut, sharp appearance, professionalism were all indicators that he might have had prior experience, but all I could get in return was a polite smile. It was clear he wasn’t going to answer that.

All right, that wasn’t going to work. Smiling at him, I spoke softly, “I’d feel a lot more at ease if I knew where we were headed. Where exactly is that?” I could feel Gabriel’s hand shifting along my backside.

Mr. Harrow politely smiled at me once more. “I'm afraid that's all I can say, Ma'am. If you would, please find your seat and we will get this bird in the air soon.” I turned around, witnessing the warning look on Gabriel’s face as the pilot and Hart shared in an unspoken conversation.

Huffing under my breath, I took a seat on one of the leather chairs, pulling the baggy, knit sweater around my body. The cool evening air had dropped several degrees since the storm, and the growing nerves in the base of my belly weren’t helping.

The pilot and Gabriel had a quick conversation as the door was sealed shut. A moment later, he returned to the chair in front of me.

“Doesn't that get old?” I asked, “People always doing your bidding, knowing what you're thinking, following orders?”

“They don’t know what I’m thinking, only my intent.” His eyes found mine, “And why should it? I pay these men a great deal to keep my secrets.”

There was some truth to his words.

“Money can’t buy everything,” I said, my voice falling off at the idea that, just maybe, that wasn’t true anymore, remembering I had a price on my head at the moment…

His head dipped, “Everything has a price. You just have to figure out what it is; however, you’re right, money can’t buy everything, but it certainly helps.”

I looked out the window, frustrated when I realized we couldn’t see anything at this time of night. I slammed the window screen down, sighing and turned back to him when he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“Annoyed,” I mumbled.

“You know what I mean.” I witnessed the struggle he fought from letting the grin sink in.

Every little movement drew my attention to the soreness between my legs, reminding me of our shared intimacy. My cheeks flushed, angry, “Is it that obvious?” I asked, but the look on his face told me it was.

“The soreness will fade soon, until then, I think I’ll enjoy you squirming in your seat.” He laughed.

“And the tattoo?” I asked as he dove into the proper way of caring for a new tattoo, emphasizing the importance of keeping it clean. I had never considered getting a tattoo before—it hadn’t even crossed my mind, but now, that choice had been taken away from me. The pain itself hadn’t been bad, bearable even, but the wound seemed to cut deeper knowing what it symbolized.

Gabriel studied me, his chin resting on his closed fist. Forcing myself back into the moment, I asked, “Where is the Captain, isn’t he coming too?”

“He went ahead of us. We’ll meet up with him soon.” He paused as the flight attendant interrupted us, asking if we needed anything before takeoff. He quickly spoke in Spanish, before she nodded and turned away. “I’ve ordered us a light dinner and then you should try to get some rest before we land.”

“And how long will that be—before we land?”

He only stared at me, his lips pressed into a hardline; a storm swirled in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes, not even trying to hide it. “You’re such a hypocrite. You expect me to answer your questions honestly, and when I don’t know the answer, you resort to extreme measures. After everything you’ve put me through, I deserve to know what is going on.”

He didn’t say anything, only looked at me from across the small table. When it was clear, he wouldn’t give me what I wanted, I groaned and pushed out of the seat, wanting to separate myself from him.

“Sit down.” He said sternly, catching me. When I glanced back at him, he continued, “You’re absolutely right.”

Finally. I was breaking through to him.

Moving back to my seat, he continued, “I’m asking you to trust me, but I am failing to show you the same courtesy.”

He ran his hand through his hair before saying, “Dávilo informed me this afternoon that the Showing had been successful, so much, that seven serious potential buyers have already shown interest. He has instructed me to keep a close eye on you until you can be brought to the auction at the end of the month.”

My heart skipped a beat.

“What did you tell him?”

Our gazes locked, as he confessed, “I told him you hadn’t been seen since the incident with Savoy. When he asked me if I thought Savoy had taken you, I told him it was possible, but we didn’t know for sure. He thinks I’ve dispatched several search parties in an effort to find you. Sooner or later, the truth will come out, but Dávilo won’t stop anytime soon. He’s is one of the most relentless people I know.”

I shook my head, “That doesn’t make sense.” I pushed out of the seat and started to pace uncontrollably up and down the aisle. Catching a glimpse of Gabriel in my peripheral vision, I could see my pacing was making him anxious.

“Addy—,” he cautioned, sparking Marc’s interest.

My body spun back around, facing him. “Dávilo and Savoy,” I belted out, “they’re working together. Don’t you see?!” I paced back and forth again. “I saw them together, last night. Savoy was leaving with Dávilo.” My words drew Marc into the conversation, as he took a seat closer to us. Gabriel and Marc shared an unspoken glance of understanding.

“Are you sure?” Gabriel asked.

“Positive.” I kept moving, as the adrenaline crept in.

Gabriel moved quickly, one second he was sitting in his seat, and the next he was standing beside me, holding me still. His hands gripped my upper arms, stopping me in my tracks. “I believe you; I do,” He paused, his voice lowering, “but it doesn’t change much.”

I pushed away from him, “Doesn’t it? Dávilo is in cahoots with that piece of shit—what part of that didn’t you hear?!” I couldn’t believe I had completely forgotten about that. I made a mental note to kick myself later.

Marc watched from a distance as my world unraveled. Gabriel tried his best to reign me in, but Marc’s heavy laugh broke the tension across the small space between us. I turned on him, glaring in a flat stare. “This is funny to you?” I snapped.

“No, you are, Love. Your innocence is refreshing.”

“Oh—I’m glad I could provide some entertainment. Isn’t this at all concerning to you?” I growled.

“We have a proverb from my village, ‘A powerful friend becomes a powerful enemy.’” Marc shook his head, “People are two-faced, whether they show you their face or not. The human race is fueled by their own ambitions, greed, and power. History hasn’t changed, this isn’t a new behavior.” He took a sip of his drink. “So, no—it’s not surprising.”

I turned to Gabriel, wanting to get his input, but he shared a similar expression to Marc’s. He seemed unfazed by the turn of events.

The flight attendant brought out our dinner, distracting us all. My stomach growled ferociously, making me realize it had been quite some time since I had last eaten, but somehow that seemed like a minuet matter at the moment. Gabriel thanked the woman before turning his attention back to me.

“Sit down, while the food is still hot.” Gabriel said, but I didn’t move. He looked at me, “I’ve not trusted Dávilo for some time now. We’ll work all of this out when we land.” He reassured me, leading me back to my seat.

Gabriel and I settled in, eating our dinner and sharing a few words over the latest turn of events while Marc and Gabriel spoke about the possible motives Dávilo had to joining Savoy’s efforts. After a while, Gabriel pulled a pair of glasses from the inner pocket of his jacket, pushing them up onto the bridge of his nose as he retrieved a notebook and began jotting down a few notes.

When he finally caught my stare, the corners of his lips curled as he admired my shocked nature. Hart was wearing glasses, revealing a very different side to him. I was beyond dumbfounded. He looked studious, and I fought to think it—hot. My cheeks flushed as I cast my eyes off to the side to avoid his own. The fire in the pit of my belly stirred as I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my composure.

We flew for several hours while a flight attendant tended to our every need. When Marc ordered a second drink, I asked for a glass of wine, hoping it would curb the anxiety that continued to grow within, and conceal the rosy red color in my cheeks.

The woman asked, “What kind would you like, Ma’am? We have a 2009 Contino Gran Reserva Rioja, a 2002 Cristal Rosé by Louis Roederer, and a 2014 Château Malartic Lagraviere.”

I stared at her, baffled. “I, uhh…” Gabriel noticed my hesitation, looking up at me behind his black framed reading glasses, knowing full and well that the color on my cheeks wasn’t out of embarrassment but something else entirely. He spoke in broken Spanish, mumbling the name of a wine under his breath while never breaking our gaze.

The flight attendant, a gorgeous, thin woman with striking legs and towering stilettos, batted her eyes at Gabriel. He remained oblivious. “Is there anything I can get you, Sir?”

He didn’t even look up from me, shaking his head in dismissal. She looked flustered, and hurt, not having been acknowledged by him. I couldn't help but wonder where she came from, and if she knew who I was or what Gabriel did for a living. Did she know who Dávilo was? Was she working for him too? Question after question rattled through my brain.

After a second glass of Cristal Rosé wine, Hart intervened and cut me off. “I don’t need to be monitored,” I said, “I’m not a child. I can handle a few glasses of wine.” In complete fairness, the wine had left me with a pleasant warmth and bliss.

“I’m sure you can, but let’s not test that today. We’ll be landing soon—I’d rather not have to carry you out.”

He stood, tucking his belongings back into his bag, grinning at me.

“You’re so… controlling.” The words spilled from my lips as Marc choked on his drink behind us.

Gabriel eyebrows arched, smirking at me. Just then, the cab shook as we encountered turbulence, knocking him off balance. He grabbed the back of my chair to steady himself. Our lips were so close. I could feel him, feel the pulse of his heart, and his breath on my neck.

I remembered our passionate embrace, the way his lips demanded mine, and calling attention to the feelings that I had tried to suppress, and he knew it too.

His lips found my ear, whispering in a seductive tone. “I think you and I both know, that turns you on.” He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his subtle touch sending sparks of electricity across my body. My breath hitched.

Gabriel smiled, and pulled away, enjoying the way I had begun to unravel in my seat. The moment he stepped away from me, the haze began to clear, and my thoughts returned. I needed a distraction.

I needed to think about anything else except for the growing ache between my legs.

When my heart rate slowed, I asked, “What happened with Savoy, after I ran into the woods? I thought he shot you. How did you get away?”

“I didn't.” Gabriel said, his words showed no indication of being as flustered as I was. “A good friend intervened.” He spared a glance toward Marc.

“But I saw him.” I said, “I heard the gunshot.”

Marc chimed in. “Oh, you heard a gunshot alright, but Savoy never had a chance to fire.”

“Then why is he still alive?” I asked, confused.

“I’m shocked.” Marc’s head tilted to the side, trying to figure me out. “Easy there, don’t be so quick to reveal your inner killer.”

My face twisted. He must not have known the truth about Sawyer. I was already a killer. “Is it so wrong to want Savoy dead? He ordered my parent’s death. He is the reason they are gone.” A wave of anger, and regret washed over me. He had been so close. Gabriel stared at me not liking where the conversation was going.

Marc said, “He'll live all right. I only maimed him. He might not ever be able to hold a gun in his dominant hand again, but he’ll live.”

“I'm just saying—after everything, you let him walk away.” My hand instantly flew to the back of my neck, running my fingers across the sensitive marking.

“It's not that simple,” Gabriel said.

“How is it not?” I sighed, “You're willing to torture and kidnap someone you've never met. You're willing to kill one of Savoy's men, but when he knocks on your door, threatening you at gunpoint, you can't do it.”

“I was a bit disadvantaged, remember?” he said in defense.

“I don't think that would have stopped you.” I looked at him, “What did? Why did you let him go?”

He stared at me, the air around us shifting again. All notions of seduction gone. “I think you need to check yourself.”

Sighing, I moved to a seat on the far side of the plane, ignoring both of them as they talked in a hushed tone, but I didn't pay attention. Something had stopped Gabriel from acting. I was tired of the cloak and daggers that surrounded everyone. No one’s motive had been as clear as I had hoped.

We flew into the night, the sun still missing from the horizon as we landed. Sometime during the flight, I had drifted off into an uneasy sleep, my dreams filled with the image of Savoy fleeing at Dávilo’s side. It wasn’t until the wheels struck the ground in a loud clash that filled the cabin, did I wake up. My eyes flew open meeting Gabriel’s. He had moved across the aisle, closer to me, his packed bag lying beside him.

The pilot came over the speaker, announcing our arrival, but he didn't specify where.

We exited the plane in silence, with Gabriel in front of me and Marc behind. The sky was dark, and a black car waited for us at the base of the stairs. The Captain stood holding the back door open, waiting for me to push in. Hart climbed in next to me while the Captain helped load the luggage.

“For God's sake, Gabriel, why won’t you tell me where we are?”

The trunk door slammed shut, making me jump in my seat.

“I was afraid you’d resist,” he said honestly. With a glance out the window, he said in a perfect accent, “Welcome to the Republic of Colombia.”