“It’s me,” Ryker said into the phone. I couldn’t hear Ignacio’s words, but I didn’t have enough energy to care what he said anyway.
“I found her. She’s fine. I’m fine, but we encountered some trouble today.”
Ryker nodded. “Yes, Dario. You should’ve briefed me about that shit. He’s dead, but we’re stuck. We need you to come and get us. We’re at that village just west of the villa. I can’t remember its name.” Ryker paused for a few strung-out beats. “Yeah, that’s the one. See you soon,” he said before disconnecting the phone.
“Is he coming?” I asked, searching his face.
“In the morning.”
“What? Why?” I sputtered.
“He’s not at the villa.”
“Seriously?” I said, shaking my head. “Then, tell him to send someone else. We need to get the hell out of here.”
He tilted his head to the side. “We’ll be okay. It’s not that long.”
“So what are we going to do? Sit here until morning? Maybe stretch out on the dirt road and wait for someone to run us over with their donkey cart and steal your money.”
“Donkey cart?” He managed a faint smile. “Don’t be so dramatic. You didn’t expect this to be easy. Did you?”
“I was hoping.” Nothing seemed easy anymore. Even returning to my white-walled prison cell at the villa wasn’t easy.
“Maybe you’ll stop running then.”
“I’m done running,” I answered, but then he smirked, pissing me off. “For now, Rick,” I amended using the fake name he gave Roberto.
He laughed. “Sure thing, Tina.”
“Ugh. I hate that name. Couldn’t you have used my real name?” I drew circles in the dirt with the tip of my dusty sandal.
Ryker’s smile faded. “No. People are looking for you…for me.” He stood up. “Let’s see if I can negotiate a place to stay until morning.”
He didn’t grab my hand or wrap his arm around me this time, and I hated that I noticed his lapse. “I’ll wait here,” I said sullenly.
“Fine.”
Five minutes and a few exchanges of money later, Ryker returned. “We have a place to sleep.”
“Five star accommodations, I assume,” I said, pushing my body off the rock wall. “I’d kill for some air-conditioning, a shower, and five hundred thread count sheets.” I sounded like a bitch, but I didn’t care. “A change of clothes would be nice too.”
“I can only promise you a bed. The other stuff will have to wait until you get home. Maybe Evan can take you on a vacation when you’re released, and he can treat you to all the stuff you’re missing.”
“Evan?” I questioned, my heart sputtering inside my chest.
“That’s who you were talking to on the phone when I found you.” His jaw twitched, and anger flashed across his face, contorting his even features.
The air around me stagnated as I searched the suddenly blank slate of my mind for something to say. “How did you know?”
“I heard you.” He rubbed his hand over the dark stubble coating his cheeks.
“What did you hear?” I shifted my head to the side, pretending I didn’t care what he did or didn’t hear, that I didn’t have anything to hide, that my heart wasn’t about to split my ribcage in half.
Ryker moved forward, dropping his hands on my shoulders, and pulling my body against his. “Are you playing games? We both know what you said. Don’t act like you can’t remember.”
“Games?” I echoed, frozen in the prison of his loose embrace. To everyone in the village, we probably looked like a happily married couple sharing a tender moment, but hostility crackled between us.
“You said you’re going to give Evan another chance.” Danger and maybe jealousy glittered in his dark eyes. No, it couldn’t be jealousy. Ryker didn’t care what I did with Evan. We both knew this thing between us ended the minute he released me.
“I said I’d try. I didn’t promise it’d work.”
He reached up and brushed his hand through my short hair, tugging lightly on the tangled strands. “You shouldn’t have called him. It complicated things.”
“You don’t know that.” Even as I said it, my stomach revolted with the truth. It probably did complicate things. I told Evan I had escaped, and then he heard Ryker. Evan was likely crazed with worry, not to mention my friends and family.
“Don’t play dumb.” He brushed a kiss across my forehead…probably for our audience. The tips of his fingers trailed up my neck and then he cupped my face. “I was in the middle of negotiating a prisoner swap. When my prisoner escaped, I lost my leverage.”
“Evan probably heard you, so he knows I didn’t go far.”
“You’re wrong,” Ryker replied shaking his head. “Ignacio said negotiations have stalled until I can produce your pretty face for a live video conference again.”
I tore my face from his grasp. “Great. Another reason Ignacio should’ve sent someone to get us tonight.”
“No, that’s another reason you won’t defy me again. Every rebellion equates to more days before you can go home.”
“Home,” I whispered.
“Yes, home. You’re going home soon as long as you listen to me.”
“I know.” And I did, but part of me didn’t want to let him go…yet. In one of my college psychology courses, I’d learned that some kidnapping victims developed a bizarre bond with their jailer as part of the victim's psychological survival defense mechanism. I think my professor called it traumatic bonding. Maybe I could attribute my growing attachment to Ryker to a simple trick of human psychology, which meant my feelings would fade with time and reflection. Part of me wanted that to be true, and part of me mourned the impending loss of my connection with Ryker. I rubbed my hands over my face. I was broken…well and truly broken. Dammit.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” he said before he scooped me up into his arms. “Let’s get some rest.”
Ten minutes and as many Spanish greetings later, Ryker set me down on a narrow bed. I didn’t waste a second before I pulled the brightly colored blanket over my body. Nubby balls covered the sheets, and the blanket scratched my already bruised and battered skin. Even camping in a sleeping bag would have been better, but at that moment it felt like heaven. I could sleep for days. I rolled to my side and tucked my hands under my pillow, my eyes already heavy with sleep.
Ryker closed the flimsy door and secured the hook and eye latch, not that the flimsy metal contraption would bar anyone from entering. It might slow them down a fraction of a second.
He sat down on a pine rocking chair in the corner, removed his black leather loafers and slipped the gun out of the holster under the hem of his shirt. “Do you want me to turn off the light?”
“Yes. Do you want the blanket?” I asked, realizing he didn’t have anywhere to sleep.