Page 91 of Sinful Beauty

Confusion crosses his face, but he scans the area and his hand falls to his waist where there’s a holster. He’s wearing a black vest with a shoulder holster, too.

Did he come to kill me?

“Is anyone else here?”

I shake my head in answer.

“Did they hurt you?”

They?

“Lucia, did they hurt you?”

He rounds the bed, coming towards me, and I back up, cornered. I should have broken something, but I can knee him. If he comes close, I can bite him, I can pull his hair, I can grab the gun at his shoulder.

“Lucia. Are you okay?”

Concern drips from his words.

“Did you do this?” My question shakes, far too weak, and I hate myself for hoping. I should run past him. Get away.

“What? No. No, as soon as I figured out you’d been taken, I’ve—” He stops, placing two fingers to his ear.

“I’ve got her. No sign of tangos. In the tower.” There’s a pause, and he says, “Copy.” His eyes continue to rove over my body, and I cover my chest with my hands. “Are you injured?”

I can’t quite force out words. My throat is tight, my eyes burn with dryness or the threat of tears, but confusion reigns.

He steps forward and I squeeze into the corner as if the wall might absorb me if I try hard enough.

“Did you do this?”

“What? Why would you think that?”

Why would I? Because who else would?

“Lucia, I’d never do anything to harm you.”

“But you don’t want the…” my hand falls to my flat middle and comprehension dawns.

“Lucia. No.” His eyes plead. “I wanted to talk to you about the pregnancy. I wouldn’t abduct you. What kind of man do you think I am?”

A lone tear rolls down my cheek. He’s saying exactly what I want to hear, but I don’t want to be a fool. He could be lying to me.

“Lucia, I tracked down the man who picked you up. I would have given up everything to find you. Please. You’ve got to believe me. I didn’t do this, love.”

“Then who did?”

“I’m not sure. But they’re gonna pay.” He offers me his hand. “We can’t stay here. They’re going to return.”

His comment reminds me of the two men I have seen. And the woman.

“There’s a man with a gun. Multiple guns. He came to see me with a doctor.”

“A doctor?”

His arm remains extended, and I stare at the hand, piecing together what he’s saying, his presence, with what I know.

“He checked to see if I was pregnant. That’s why I thought it had to be you.” I search his face, wanting to believe him. If he was going to kill me, wouldn’t he just shoot me? “You and Khelani are the only people who know, and Khelani is in the United States.”

---