He snorts.
Lightning flashes out the window, and I nervously peek out again. The clouds below us are an angry, thunderous shade of black, and I can see lightning flashing. We’ve been in the air for less than an hour, and it feels as if all of Peru is covered in storms. It makes me nervous. “I’m a hand model,” I tell Afonso for the millionth time. “Hand and foot, but mostly hand.”
“You’re protecting them from sunlight, yes?”
“Sunlight, other people, you name it,” I agree. Right now, my gloves are full of shea butter. I’m moisturizing up since we’re on the flight and I’ve got nowhere else to go for the next few hours. Plus, it sounds weird but moisturizing relaxes me. It’s part of my routine and it’s soothing, and lately I’ve needed a hell of a lot of soothing.
Afonso now gives me an assessing look. “Your hands, they are soft, eh?”
My creepster meter goes through the roof. “Yep,” I say flatly, and turn back to my window. It’s a cue for him to leave me alone, and I wish I had one of those eye masks so I could put it on and pretend like my “dad” isn’t here.
The tiny plane has two rows of seats on one side, and one solitary seat on the other. I’ve got the misfortune to be in the center of the plane with Afonso. What’s weird is that there are a ton of seats open. The plane seats thirty or so, I’m guessing, but other than the stewardess and three men in the back, there’s no one else on board. Pucallpa must not be a hot Sunday flight spot.
I’m the only one with a seatmate, too. Lucky, lucky me.
Afonso could easily take an empty seat in a nearby row, but he’s content to bother me and spend the flight time peering down my shirt.
Claustrophobia hits me and I feel sick to my stomach. In my hotel room, I was alone for the most part. Here? Afonso is in my space and he won’t go away. His hand grazes my thigh, and my stomach clenches nervously. Rape hasn’t been on the table yet, but suddenly, I’m not ruling it out.
And that frightens the hell out of me.
I need to get away for a few minutes, if only for a breather. Thunder rumbles outside of the plane. “I need to use the restroom, Afonso. If you’ll let me out—”
“Don’t be in such a rush,” he tells me, and gives me what I assume is supposed to be a sexy grin.
“Really must go,” I say, standing up in my seat. “Stomach upset.” And I groan emphatically, my gloved hands squishing as I fist them tightly and press them to my stomach.
He frowns and gets up to let me out, though I’m pretty sure I feel his fingers drag over my shoulder and down my thigh as I shimmy past. Shuddering, I make my way down the aisle to the plane’s small bathroom at the back of the passenger compartment. The purse is slung over my arm, and I enter the tiny cubby sideways to ensure I don’t smack it against the door. Once inside, I lock the door behind me, put the lid down, and sit down on the toilet.
I don’t have to pee. I just need to breathe.
I practice deep breathing for a few minutes, trying to calm the panic rising in my throat. They’re moving me to a new city. Fouquet is getting rougher, and Afonso is getting more forward by the hour. If ever my life felt like it was hanging by a thread, it’s now. I think of Rose. Poor, poor Rose. What are they doing to her? Is she safe?
I’m trying, Rosie. I’m trying so freaking hard.
My hands tremble for long minutes and I stay in the bathroom until I’m completely calm once more. When I finally open the door again, one of the men in the back immediately stands up to go to the bathroom.
His gaze meets mine, and I freeze.
It’s a handsome man with familiar piercing eyes. Mendoza. He’s here. As I watch, he lifts a finger to his lips, indicating silence.
And he smiles.
CHAPTER SIX
RAFAEL
Ava is startled by my presence but hope streaks across her face. She thinks I’m here to save her. Unfortunately the most I can offer at this point is that I won’t rape and harm her, but I need the information she has. In this controlled setting with only the small dark-haired man watching her, I can easily make the switch. Five different-colored folders with only a few pieces of paper. Our duplicate isn’t perfect because we haven’t been able to get close up. The best we’ve got are telephoto shots of the papers, which reveal what appears to be intercepted emails and transcripts of telephone calls. We aren’t sure.
Bennito made up a dummy replacement in about an hour. The matching purse was purchased by Norse the day before at a local high-end shop.
I pick up the decoy purse, setting it on the seat behind me so Ava doesn’t see it.
“Sorry.” The turbulence of the plane dislodges her footing and she falls into me, her handbag tumbling to the ground.