She laughed. “Sure hope not.”
A small chuckle clawed up from my throat as she pulled it out and handed it to me. With a deep breath, I wrote a short note to Cassandra, apologizing for keeping her in the dark about so much and telling her how I wished I was more like her. Maybe she was right: Living life as a hermit suddenly felt better than living it carelessly. I even confessed to slapping Logan, adding that he deserved it but that he also deserved her. I told her to give him a chance, then signed off and folded both the bags together. If I never returned home again, I would make sure these letters did.
We landed just past 9 p.m. in Mexico City. Determined to give Saint the letters, I remained in my seat, standing only to allow the woman in my row to exit. I waited impatiently, letters in hand as everyone else passed, waiting for Saint to do the same—except he wasn’t in the aisle, or even standing. He was still sitting in his seat, staring down at the same magazine.
The plane was nearly empty before I finally grabbed my bag and walked off in a huff. I was standing just outside the gate when he finally appeared.
“Give this—”
I was yanked back into a corner abruptly. His menacing eyes were dark, and face so close I could taste the faint whiskey on his breath.
“What the hell are you playing at here?”
My trembling hand held out the folded bags. “I need this to go to my dad if I don’t make it back. Please.”
He released my shoulders gruffly, staring down at the letters, then blew out a frustrated breath.
“Please,” I repeated.
Saint snatched them quickly, slipping them into a pocket in his dark cargo pants.
“Listen to me carefully,” he began harshly. “You need to follow every single fucking part of this plan exactly as we went over it.” His voice lowered to barely above a whisper, where no one but the two of us could hear. “Or you’re gonna get yourself killed. We clear on that?”
I nodded, my mouth agape. “I’m sorry, I just—”
“I don’t give a shit why. Just make sure you understand the gravity of this situation. Because if not, you won’t be coming home.”
“Okay,” I murmured.
“Good, now go,” Saint demanded, turning quickly and walking away.
With shaky hands and wobbly legs, I made my way through customs, amazed at the size of the airport. It was massive. I followed the exit signs, only looking back once to find Saint, as anticipated, not far behind.
He’d explained before we left that Rafe had texted, saying he’d be waiting out front for me. The plan was for me to get in his car and leave with him. The thought was terrorizing considering I had no wire or form of communication—only the word of a man I hardly knew, which was Saint’s promise that he would keep me safe.
The walk was long, my steps growing heavier with anxiety the closer I drew to baggage claim, which was supposed to then led outside.
I followed behind a family of four. A small girl, barely a toddler, sang to herself, swinging from her dad’s arm while her older brother chatted his mom up about the resort they’d be staying at.
My frown deepened, sadness cloaking me. I’d never had that experience and may never get the chance to now. My father could never justify spending the money and my mom was locked up before I could even walk on my own. For the first time in years, I felt the overpowering need to talk to her. I guess it’s at the bottom that you realize all the things you’d do differently.
I rubbed my nose and sniffled, inhaling all the brewing sentiments, then continued forward with a newfound determination. I would make it home.
Still within the secured area, I turned a corner and instantly halted my steps. There, standing a few feet ahead—arms crossed firmly over his chest and wearing a deep scowl—stood Caleb in all his badass glory.
He didn’t have to tell me to follow him when he opened the door to a family bathroom right behind him and stepped inside. I did so on instinct.
Why was he there? Did Saint know he was coming? Judging by the veins bulging in Caleb’s neck and locked jaw, I didn’t think any of this was part of the plan.
“Why are you here?” I asked once the door closed, granting us privacy.
He didn’t answer, staring silently at the door until it opened a few seconds later and Saint stepped inside. Caleb’s fist flew so fast against Saint I lurched back, my hands flying up to cover my mouth, muffling my squeal.
I watched in disbelief as Saint dodged the hit, standing tall and looking utterly annoyed.
“What the fuck are you doing, man!?” Caleb took another swing. “You take my girl and bring her down here without telling me!?”
His girl? Did he really just call me that?
Saint stepped around him as the punch landed in his side. With little more than a grimace, he stood beside me.
“You left me no choice, Caleb,” Saint began. “You knew this was the only way, and yet have been wasting time trying to fool him with girls too eager and too mature to ever catch his eye.”
Caleb snarled. “That motherfucker was taking the bait exactly like I said he would. If you’d answer your goddamn phone, you’d know that. But this…” He motioned his head in my direction, voice dipping dangerously low. “This is a betrayal, Saint. I told you I wasn’t letting her get involved.”
Caleb’s gaze shot to me, eyes softening as they raked down my body. “How did he get you here? Did he hurt you?”
I shook my head. “No. I mean, not really.”
Wrong choice of words.
Caleb rushed at Saint, seizing him by his neck. The man outweighed Caleb in sheer muscle, yet did nothing to fight back. “You son of a bitch!” Caleb growled. “You lied to me—went behind my back! And I had to find all this out from your fucking lackey, Tudor.”
Saint ripped Caleb’s arms away, his expression darkening with malice. “He told you.”
“Not exactly.”
I stepped between the two; their tension and rage were tangible. “How did you know I was with him?” I asked, grabbing Caleb’s cheek gently and moving his head to face me before releasing it.
Caleb pushed back, shoving his hands through his hair. “Your text,” he snarled at Saint. “You had her phone. I knew it because the message said she was home but I knew that was a lie because I was there waiting for her when I spotted Tudor leaving her building with her bag.”
“Dumbass,” Saint grumbled to himself. He straightened his shirt and looked down at me. “We don’t have time for this. Rafe will be waiting and we spent all day going over exactly what you need to do. Are you in or out? Because these women’s lives depend on you right now.”
“Don’t you dare try to guilt her into risking her life! All you care about is the paycheck at the end!”
“What?” I asked, confused.
“This is just a job for him, Hilary. You don’t have to help him.” Caleb’s expression was pleading. “He’s being paid over a million dollars to find your old friend Madeline.”
“Paid?” I shook my head, eyes closed. “I don’t care,” I said softly, and meant it. “He’s here, and if there’s any chance we can find her, I’m going to help.”
“Good,” Saint said in delighted satisfaction.
Caleb’s gaze swept my way. “Like hell you are! Hilary, you’re taking this,” he held out a plane ticket, “and marching your ass right back up to the terminal. You’re already checked in and still within the secured area, so you have nothing to do but board this flight in forty minutes.”
“No.” I pressed my hands to my hips. “I’m not a little girl anymore. I got myself into this mess and I will do everything I can to help anyone else that’s in it too.” I looked at Saint. “I’m in.”
I’d just started toward the door when Caleb caught my shoulders and swung me around, his expression of beseeching regard locking with my stoic one.
“Don’t do this. It’s not worth it.” He lowered his head, growling. “Damn it. I’m sorry I blew up at you last week, but I had
to put some distance between us. This,” he waved his hand in the air, “is my life. I won’t let it hurt you.”
I leaned in, weaving my hand around his neck and pressing my lips to his in a soft, gentle, and lasting kiss. When I pulled back, I saw the fear in his eyes.
“Trust me.”
With that, I walked out as Saint grabbed ahold of Caleb, holding him there to stop him from following. I walked tall and in long strides, ignoring the scuffle I heard as I exited the room. By the time I made it to the other side of security, I knew there was no turning back. I was in too deeply, and could only hope that Saint was a man of his word.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Frightened, apprehensive, and yet full of bravado, I stood out on the sidewalk in front of the airport, waiting while I replayed the instructions Saint and I had gone over. He’d made the plan sound so simple, but I was the one faced with a harsh reality in the event of even one mistake. A tiny misstep could result in me ending up alone in a country with a man looking to sell me off to a fucking pimp, or worse.
I lifted my head toward the sky and was in the middle of sending up a silent prayer just as I heard my name called out.
Rafe opened the door from inside the backseat of a black Cadillac. The jerk probably didn’t want to be seen on security cameras, hiding in the car like a coward. The dark tinted windows hid the driver.
“You made it!” he said, waving me in. His grin was all teeth, a smug satisfaction sparkling in his eyes as I slipped inside, placing my bag on the seat between us.
“Yeah,” I replied. “Just landed.”
He placed the duffle bag on the floor and maneuvered his body to better face me.
“I’m thrilled you decided to come. I was worried you’d change your mind last minute.”
“Nope,” I said sharply.
My muscles ached from the last twenty-four hours, which was made worse when I straightened in my seat, scooting as far from him as possible and staring up at the driver. He was a beefy man—one who looked more security than chauffeur.
“It’s a bit of a ride,” Rafe went on. “Just over an hour, but it’s worth the drive. Max’s home is quite the site: secluded and full of beauty,” he announced, his blatant eagerness grating my nerves. Is that beauty in the form of the women you took prisoner?
I grimaced at the thought. I can do this, I chanted internally, remembering everything Saint had said. All I had to do was follow the plan to play nice and never get out of the car.
Apparently, “Max” was actually Diego Rodriguez—a man who, as of two months ago, was wanted in the states by the FBI for trafficking. Saint seemed to know a lot about him—everything except his location, in fact—and had told me just enough to scare the shit out of me but stopped divulging before I changed my mind. Human trafficking was allegedly one of Diego’s many crimes.
“Is that a no?” Rafe asked loudly.
“Huh?” I whipped my head in his direction.
His brows knitted together. “I asked if the flight was smooth,” he repeated.
“Yeah, it was fine,” I answered quickly, clearing my throat. “Thank you,” I gritted passed my clenched jaw.
It had never been more difficult to be nice to someone. I hated this man more than anything. He was pure evil, in my eyes.
Rafe’s hand covered my bare knee, startling me. I lifted it away swiftly, scooting closer to my door, regretting my decision to wear shorts. “You said friends, nothing more! Remember?”
His smile tightened. “Indeed. I was, however, hoping you’d be interested in one last evening together. No sex, nothing like that, just dinner before seeing Max.”
My eyes widened, anxiety rising. “We’re not going to see him now? You said we were going to his house.”
Rafe shrugged a shoulder, reaching for a bottle of water in his door. “He’s busy at the moment. We could always stop somewhere along the way, if you’re hungry.”
He held the bottle out for me, but I shook my head. I wasn’t about to get drugged on this trip.
“I ate on the plane and I’m not thirsty, thanks,” I said cautiously. “Will he be home, though?”
Rafe placed the bottle back in the door without taking a drink himself, and I made a mental note to steer clear of anything else he offered. “Are you in a hurry to see him? Hoping he’ll pay you the rest of your money in advance?”
“No,” I replied quickly with a small smile. I combed my fingers through my messy curls, easing into my seat and striving to look relaxed despite the fiery war of emotions raging inside me. “I’m just tired, that’s all. I’m looking forward to meeting his new girlfriend.”
I turned my attention back to the window as we traveled through the city and could feel his penetrating gaze as he spoke again.
“Ah, I see. Well, then perhaps he’ll make an appearance sooner. But speaking of the money, did you put the ten grand I left with you somewhere secure? That’s a lot of money to deposit in the bank with no record of receipt.”
“Yeah, I stashed it.”
“I see. Somewhere locked up then?” he asked slowly, drawing my full attention.
“Yeah, very.” Not at all, I thought. Last I knew, it was in my kitchen drawer, if Saint hadn’t found it. Why did he care?
“Good,” he said in a tone that was anything but. “I personally keep a small safe in my closet, hidden in the wall. You can never be too careful.”
He paused a moment before asking, “How about you? I could purchase one for you—when you return, I mean.”
That son of a bitch had no plans of ever letting me return home, but he was apparently eager to get back to my apartment and snatch the cash. He was nothing more than a piece of shit that Saint had promised I could take my anger out on before this treacherous journey ended.
I turned my head deliberately in his direction, watching his expression deepen. The greedy bastard really was planning on stealing it and God knew what else from me.
“Thanks, but I already have one under my bed,” I lied.
His smile grew wide, fingers weaving together in his lap. “Wonderful. I just wanted to make sure you knew not to deposit it. I want to look out for you, Hilary, like you used to let me. I miss that.”
“Right,” I grumbled, watching as we took a left turn then another one, leading us farther into the desert and away from civilization.
The small chitchat Rafe attempted died off slowly, as I refused to participate past short, simple responses.
“We’re not far now,” he said after a little while, checking his watch.
A few minutes later, we drove through a small town, then down a long dark road until the only thing surrounding us was darkness. I spotted a large house up in the distance.
“There it is. Home sweet home.”
I don’t think so.
“It’s been a pleasure spending time with you, Hilary. Your arrival here tonight has made the last few months with you completely worth it. They’ll treat you well, I’m sure.”
Could he be any more obvious? Was this how he played it with the other girls—dropping them off with no explanation?
The vehicle slowed as we approached the home, then pulled into a long driveway.
“Is this where you brought Maddy?” I asked boldly, watching as his expression shifted between confusion and realization before a smug grin lit his face.
“Yes, yes it is.” He chuckled harshly. “I’m sure she’ll be thrilled to see you.”
The vehicle came to a stop and Rafe opened his door before walking around and opening mine.
“Welcome to your new home, Hilary.”
I placed my hand over the seatbelt buckle that held me in the car. “I think I’ll just sit right here, thanks.”
“Excuse me?” he asked, chuckling again.
The driver stepped out and stood beside his door, arms crossed. I leaned forward, looking all around for any sign of Saint, only to find the darkness.
“Out. Now,” Rafe demanded.
“I said I
’m not getting out of the fucking car, asshole!”
Rafe dropped to his haunches, a threatening grin playing on his lips. “You’ll be a whole lot of fun for the guys to break in. They love a good attitude. Now get the fuck out of my car before I give you a glimpse of how your new life is going to work.”
Come on, Saint, where are you?
Rafe stood back up and I exhaled a relieved breath—just as he reached in, ripped my hand from the seatbelt, and unbuckled it.
“No!” I screamed, lunging forward in an attempt to crawl into the front. The driver seemed dismissive, as though this was a regular thing, not even attempting to help Rafe, who was climbing into the back.
I kicked my feet, hitting him in the face, and managed to swing my body into the driver’s seat.
“You little bitch!”
The keys. Fuck, there are no keys!
My door flew open and a snarling Rafe reached inside, wrapping his hands up into my hair and attempting to drag me out. I held onto the steering wheel with everything I had, cursing Saint for not showing up.
Stay inside the vehicle no matter what, I repeated in my head. Saint was convinced they wouldn’t hurt me badly in there, having explained how these men prided themselves on their vehicles and wouldn’t want them bloody.
That thought alone kept my grip tight on the steering wheel, my legs stretched out the door as Rafe continued to pull before the driver finally reached in and, one by one, pried my fingers away.
“No!” I screamed just as the back of Rafe’s hand slapped my cheek, sending me into a daze.
I had just fallen to the ground, hopeless, when I felt it rumbling beneath my exhausted body and saw multiple headlights appear.
“Shit!” Rafe hollered, then turned to rush toward the house. I pushed myself up and leapt onto his back.
“You son of a bitch!” I pounded away at every part I could reach until he fell forward, bracing himself on his hands and knees. It took two good hits to the back of his head to drop him flat to the ground.
That didn’t stop me, though. I sat on his back, punching, crying, and screaming about how much I hated him until strong arms lifted me up and pulled me against a familiar chest.