With little reluctance, I shuffled toward the door. “I guess so,” I replied, because what else could I say? I didn’t want to go back to my windowless cell, but I didn’t want to stay here either. I could scream and cry about the unfairness of my life later. Right now, I didn’t have a choice. I had to keep moving forward and embrace the nothingness until I could reclaim my life.
Ryker unlatched the lock. “Do I need to tie your hands or will you follow me willingly?”
Dropping my sandals to the floor, I balled my hands into fists in front of my body. My fingernails dug into my palms. “Do whatever you want,” I mumbled, resisting the urge to fight him even as anger sparked in my veins, swallowing my numbness piece by piece. “I followed you all day yesterday, and I didn’t try to leave last night, but it’s your call.”
Lines bracketed the sides of his mouth as he pressed his lips into a firm, straight line. “Let’s go then.” He wrenched the decrepit door open, and there stood Ignacio.
His dark eyes flashed between Ryker and me. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled into deep lines. I wished he wouldn’t look at me that way. It made me feel exposed…transparent.
“Is everything okay?” Ignacio asked, running his tanned hand through his salt and pepper hair.
I’d never noticed the resemblance between him and Ryker until that moment. While I suspected Ryker looked more like his mom than his dad, he had his dad’s long, angular nose, heavy-lidded eyes, and broad shoulders.
“Everything is perfect. Miss Covington agreed she wouldn’t run again, so we shouldn’t have any additional problems before it’s time to make the exchange.” Ryker folded his arms across his chest, but he didn’t turn around to look at me. Damn him and his calm ambivalence.
“That’s what you said when you left her in your room alone and without a guard,” Ignacio shot back.
“She won’t run again,” Ryker retorted without any further explanation. “Right, Miss Covington?”
I stared at the ceiling, studying the web of hairline cracks, extending outward in a maze from the white ceiling fan. I hated surrendering so easily, but it was true. I wasn’t running again unless Ryker happened to stop in front of the U.S. embassy, and I wouldn’t hold my breath for that to happen. “No,” I answered after a heavy pause.
Ignacio scanned the disheveled bedding. “It’s not a good idea to get involved with the cargo.”
“Cargo?” I said.
Ryker glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes cold as ice even as a chuckle fell from his deceptively seductive lips. “In the world of cartels, cargo is a hostage. Targets are execution victims.”
“Hm.” At least Ignacio didn’t call me a target. I might become one at some point, but not yet.
“Is there anything I need to know?” Ignacio persisted.
“I don’t have anything to share. Miss Covington, do you?” Ryker’s question was so innocent, so utterly lacking in guile that I knew he intended to bait me.
“No,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to the ground, flames of embarrassment warming my face. My gut twisted. He asked me to pretend nothing happened between us…that he didn’t cradle me all night. Fine. I could do that. I mentally scrubbed his scent and the specter of his touch from my skin.
“Great. Put your sandals on and let’s get out of here. I’m tired from trekking through the jungle for two nights.” Ryker said, stepping to the side, signaling for me to go out the door first.
I stuffed my feet into my sandals with far more enthusiasm and energy than I’d thought possible given the rollercoaster of emotions circling in my mind. Just when I thought Ryker and I had managed to form some semblance of a truce and mutual trust, he turned into an asshole again. Even though he had protected me, killed for me, lied for me, and carried me when my body failed me, I felt invisible and insignificant under his indifferent gaze. We agreed not to tell anyone what happened between us, but I didn’t appreciate his cruelty. I wouldn’t cry, though. I had already indulged in enough self-pity for a lifetime.
Hot, cold, fire, ice…I didn’t know what to expect from Ryker anymore. One minute, I believed we had a connection. The next, he made me feel like less than nothing. He broadcasted hundreds of mixed messages. I debated whether he suffered from a bipolar disorder. Screw it. Dwelling on him longer than I already had was senseless.
Ryker promised I would be home soon, and I decided to focus on that. Once I was safely in my bed at home, I owed it to myself to cry, scream, and do all of the self-destructive things I wanted…until I erased all the contradictory emotions I harbored toward Ryker from my system forever.
“Do you have your gun?” Ignacio asked Ryker the minute we stepped out the front door of the small house we’d slept in last night.
Ryker lifted the hem of his shirt, flashing his gun.
“I thought you left that on the nightstand last night.”
“I did, but then I put it back on after you fell asleep.”
“Did you sleep with it loaded?” I blurted out.
“Yep.”
“It could’ve discharged while we were sleeping.”
“I’m a professional, Miss Covington. Don’t worry about me,” Ryker said mockingly, his eyes unnervingly distant. He treated me as if I were the dumbest person in the world, and maybe I was, or at least when it came to him. He charmed me, kissed me, fucked me, and then dropped me cold every single time—but I still couldn’t muster the willpower to do anything except follow in his wake like a lost puppy. What was wrong with me?
I didn’t bother responding, neither with words or a facial expression. He didn’t want to talk. He wanted to pretend like I meant nothing. Fuck him. When we reached the street, six black SUVs idled next to the curb. At least ten men dressed in fatigues stood beside unopened doors. Just like the gunmen yesterday, they were armed with assault weapons, except these men also wore flak jackets with FEDI inscribed across their chest.
“What does FEDI mean?” I asked Ryker.
“Fuerzas Especiales de Ignacio, or Ignacio’s Special Forces.”
I guess that explained why the town inhabitants hovered near the doors of their homes and businesses, gawking at the Vargas Cartel’s show of force. Regret twisted in my gut. I hated that I played a part in lying to these people, and in doing so, I had invited the Vargas Cartel into their small town. Who knows what sort of atrocities they had committed here? I’m sure the Vargas Cartel had victimized someone’s son, daughter, or husband. I didn’t know a lot about the Mexican drug wars, but I did know it had claimed thousands of innocent and not so innocent lives.
I kept my head buried against my chest, avoiding the curious and accusing stares burning up every inch of my exposed skin. Ryker slipped into the front passenger seat of the first SUV. I reached for the door handle of the same vehicle.
Ignacio snagged my wrist. “No. You’re driving with me.”
My eyes darted to Ryker, but he slammed the door without acknowledging me. I swallowed back my fear of being alone with Ignacio, and I nodded.
Guiding me down the uneven sidewalk, Ignacio opened the back door of the next vehicle and gestured for me to get in.
Chapter Twenty-One