Page 19 of Stolen By the Enemy

While we were walking along the beach, I had so many thoughts running through my head.

One of those thoughts was whether or not I would have come here by choice if Marco had asked me rather than kidnapped me.

I wouldn’t have wanted to go against my brothers or ruin things for the family, but I definitely would have been tempted to run away to this Mexican paradise.

Other thoughts included very silly little fantasies about what life would be like if I lived here.

I tried to stop those thoughts from infiltrating my mind, but holding Marco’s hand and looking up at the stars, just did something to me.

I sit up and make my way groggily to the kitchen for coffee.

Last night ended nicely, but I can’t help thinking about whether he meant all of his threats against my brothers.

Sometimes he seemed like a good person, someone that I could trust and enjoy spending time with, and then he would say things that reminded me he was very much a cartel member and could kill me with a snap of his fingers.

I’ve never been too close to the world of violence that my brothers had no choice but to be a part of.

I’ve heard stories, and I’ve accidentally seen things, but being in the presence of such a dangerous man has brought me closer to that world than I’ve ever been.

Part of my request to go for a walk, was so that I could get a better idea of my surroundings, and what I discovered was not comforting at all.

I know now that I’m not going to get out of this house by myself. Even if I make it past the security locks and the cameras, the walk along the beach showed me just how isolated we are.

No one is going to hear me yelling for help, and I have no idea how far I’d have to go before I reached civilization.

I also spotted each one of the lookout sheds, noticing eyes watching us from the darkness.

I can’t run very fast for fun, so I doubt I would be able to outrun those men and their bullets.

But something about Marco’s attitude did give me hope yesterday. It’s nothing more than a sliver, but I’m going to work with it.

There was a moment when he was looking at me in my towel and arguing with me, and even while we were holding hands and walking down the beach, that he seemed to actually like me.

His eyes get darker, and he would lick his lips, telling me exactly what he was thinking.

The initial attraction between us is still there, and I have a feeling that I might be able to use that to my advantage.

Finishing my coffee, I go to shower.

When I get out, I don’t bother with clothes or even a towel. Leaving my body bare and wet, I walk into the living room and lie across the couch.

I make sure that my movements are exaggerated, pulling each muscle and twisting my limbs in the sexiest way I know how.

There’s an old magazine on the coffee table. It’s dated a full year ago, just like I told Marco, but I pick it up and pretend to read it, throwing my legs over the top of the couch.

I can’t really tell if and when Marco is watching the cameras, but I make sure that if he happens to check in now, he has a full view of my naked body.

The beach house is warm, and we don’t seem to have any immediate neighbors, so this plan feels pretty solid.

All I need is for Marco to finally give in and sleep with me.

After gaining his trust, I may be able to convince him to let me go home.

I don’t really care if my brothers give him trade routes or money.

I do care, though, if they try to be heroes and end up getting hurt—or end up getting me hurt in the process.

I used to trust them entirely to keep me safe and always be there for me, but as we all get older, that trust becomes harder to hold onto.

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