Frustration mushroomed inside of me, bit by bit, second by second. A freefall of rioting and contradictory emotions crossed swords inside my mind. My ability to think logically failed, splintering like a paper-thin piece of wood. I was self-destructing under his assault.
Frantic to shift the pendulum in my direction, I tore at his belt buckle, my hands shaky from the fog of lust coloring my common sense—and that’s when everything stopped.
In a split second, he jerked my hands above my head and pinned them against the headboard. His hands were like rings of iron, imprisoning me. He bent his head next to my ear, his warm breath, whispering against the side of my face. “No more, Hattie. This is over,” he said. The words felt like a slap across my face.
“No.” I didn’t recognize my voice. It resembled a primitive battle cry more than a protest. “It’s not over until I say it’s over.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. This is my game, my world. You only win what I want to give. Nothing more.”
My lust exploded in a burst of volcanic rage. I kicked and bucked and everything in between, but he was stronger, easily overpowering me. Strings of curses and taunts fell like poison from my lips.
His hand cupped my mouth, smothering my rants. I bit his hand, breaking the skin, but he didn’t cave. Fuck, he didn’t even flinch. “Stop this. This is hard for me too. I don’t want to keep fighting with you, but I will.”
His eyes raked over my face with equal parts anger and violence. I believed him. He’d won. Accepting defeat, my muscles uncoiled one by one and he lifted his hand from my mouth. I sucked in giant gasps of air trying to expunge Ryker’s mind games. Beat by beat my heart slowed to a normal rhythm.
“Take a shower and clean yourself up. I have a few things to do before we head back to the villa.”
“If you don’t want to deal with me, why did you come after me? You should’ve left me in the jungle. We both know I never would’ve made it out of there alive.” Even to my ears, I sound lost. Shattered. Broken.
“You’re the leverage to secure my brother’s release.” He shifted his body and sat up on the edge of the bed, his face turned away from me. “I’ll be back in fifteen minutes. Be dressed and ready.”
“My clothes are dirty.” I don’t understand why I said it. What I did or didn’t wear was inconsequential.
“There’s a change of clothes in the bathroom along with a few other toiletries.” He stalked toward the door, his hands buried deep in his pockets.
“I don’t want anything from you.” I lied.
“Good thing I found the gun you stole from my room. I wouldn’t want you to be burdened with it either.”
I hurled a pillow in his direction, but it caught in netting and fell unceremoniously to the floor. “I’m not doing anything you want, not a fucking thing.”
“Just shower and put on the clothes. We can argue about what you do and don’t want later.” The door slammed, reverberating through the room. All my strength depleted, I sagged under the weight of my situation.
Chapter Fifteen
Numb…that’s how I felt when I slipped on a pair of too short jean shorts and a too large t-shirt. The lukewarm shower water had stung every inch of my bruised and battered skin, and as I stared into the peeling mirror, I didn’t recognize the woman staring back at me.
Purple circles stained the skin under my bloodshot eyes. Red scratches marred my right cheekbone, and three butterfly bandages dotted the length of my neck. I looked like serious arm candy…just as Ricardo said. A bitter laugh escaped my mouth, startling me.
Expelling a monster breath, I exited the bathroom. I expected to find Ryker waiting for me, but he wasn’t in the room. The hum of a car idling outside my window caught my attention. Maybe Ryker already left, and he planned to meet me outside.
I walked toward the open window. The rusted, three decade-old blue sedan was empty. Before I could second-guess my actions, I placed both of my hands on the window frame and threw one leg over the windowsill. For a few ticks of time that felt like an eternity; my body straddled the windowsill as my mind weighed my options, relentlessly analyzing my next move.
To hell with Ryker. I was leaving. I climbed out the window, hanging from the ledge before I jumped. My swollen ankle screamed, but I kept moving. Within seconds, I sat behind the wheel of the car. I didn’t waste time. I shoved the gear into drive and slammed my foot on the gas pedal so hard I thought it might crash through the rusted metal floorboard.
Clouds of brown dust rolled upward behind the car as I drove over the gravel road. I wasn’t delusional. Ryker would realize I had run again within minutes, if not seconds, but the thought didn’t stop me. If Ryker wanted me, he had to work for it. Sure, he’d probably find me and punish me, but I refused to rollover and accept my fate—not when I still had viable options.
Palm tree canopies shaded the road. Green vines snaked up the tree trunks. Hints of the startling cerulean sky penetrated the green miasma. I couldn’t see a damn thing, but the road had to lead me somewhere, so I kept driving. The rough dirt road combined with the never-ending twists and turns forced me to proceed slower than I wanted.
Second after second, the tires ate up the dirt road until I no longer saw the bed and breakfast in the rear view mirror. The invisible chain links around my body snapped one by one and my breath evened out. Holy shit. I was doing it. I was going to beat Ryker and the entire Vargas Cartel with only my mind and a rusted out blue sedan. I didn’t have a gun, but I had a car.
With one hand on the steering wheel, I popped the center console, searching for a map or anything that steered me back to civilization. Blindly, I emptied the contents on the seat next to me.
An empty pack of gum.
A few used tissues.
A pen.
A phone charger.
Nothing…
Leaning to the side, while keeping my eyes trained on the road, I opened the glove box, and my heart slammed against the walls of my chest. A cell phone. It was old…the kind with a flip front and barely-existent screen, but as long as it worked long enough to call a number or two, I didn’t care.
My hands shaking, I opened the phone and dialed my dad’s number plus the international code from memory. My dad didn’t participate in the video conference yesterday, but I still thought he was my best option.
With every ring, my heart climbed the walls of my chest.
One ring.
Two rings.
“Come on…pick up.” I squeezed the phone tighter and tighter.
Three rings.
“Dad, answer your fucking phone,” I screamed as I white-knuckled the steering wheel with my free hand.
Four rings.
“Beep.”
“No,” I yelled.
“You’ve reached Richard Covington’s voicemail, please leave a message.”
“Dad, it’s Hattie. Where are you? I need you. I’m lost. I don’t know where I am.” I started to disconnect the call and then I stopped. “Call me on this number,” I added, hoping the number showed up on his missed calls list.