I keep waking up expecting to be back in bed beside him, or to feel his touch on my shoulder, or to smell his comforting scent as he wraps me in his arms. Instead, I’ve felt other men’s hands on my wrists, leading me from this room to the bathroom, and then back to this chair to be tied up again like some kind of criminal.
Did Taylor’s mission fail?
Have I been captured by a competing cartel?
When he removed the gag from my mouth, I didn’t scream. I was terrified, and although he’d admitted to lying to me, I wanted to believe him. I wanted it so badly. The ache in my heart was unbearable, and I was desperately clinging to any hope that he might still actually be the man I fell in love with.
As terrified as I was, and as betrayed as I felt, my love for him overpowered everything, and I told him I forgave him. I told him I would never speak of what happened, what he was about to do, and that as long as we were together, I would be happy.
He smiled. I cried. We kissed. We made love. And then he took his gun and went downstairs.
And that was the last I saw of him.
Less than an hour later, a group of men burst in, threw this bag over my face, and carried me to a car, and I was driven away.
“Will someone tell me what’s going on!?” I howl, the force of my scream burning my throat and lungs. “Where the hell am I!?”
I realize now that I made the wrong decision.
I never should have kept my mouth shut.
I know nothing of the spy world, but I’m starting to realize I’ve been played. I’m just a single cog in the larger machine of his plan, and he never meant anything he said to me. He never loved me. He simply used me for sex and to get to my uncle. And that’s it.
He’s not coming back to save me.
I’m on my own now.
And as tears begin to spill from my eyes and wet the cloth draped over my face, I feel my heart begin to break.
“Ryder…” I weep.
I shouldn’t cry. I shouldn’t be sad about him not being here to save me, to protect me like he said was his mission in life. But I am.
I’m lower than I’ve ever been in my life.
Being cheated on is nothing compared to this brutal, icy betrayal.
I let myself believe he was for real. I let myself love him without constraint, and truly believed he loved me back. Every time I looked at him, I felt serene, tranquil, cherished. I was in love with his every touch, the way his words felt when he spoke to me and how he held me like I was the most important thing in his life. And the way he gazed into my eyes with such intensity made my heart feel full and alive.
Now it’s just empty. I’m empty.
“Hey!” I scream again. “Get me the fuck out of here!”
A harsh screech of metal pierces my ears as a door opens somewhere, flooding whatever room I’m in with a harsh light that nearly penetrates my head covering. I hear the strong sound of footsteps approaching and try not to panic.
“Miss Rodriguez,” a gruff male voice growls. “What is your association with the man known as Taylor Jordan?”
“Taylor Jordan?” I reply defiantly. “Never heard of him.”
Why am I still protecting him? I have no rational reason to. Not after what he’s done to me.
That’s a silly question for me to ask myself, however. I know the answer.
I still love him.
“Don’t lie to us!” another man snaps. “We know you were seeing each other. We need you tell us his whereaboutsnow!”
“Go to hell!” I snap back. Their voices sound American. Definitely not Mexican, which lowers the likelihood of them being cartel goons. I decide to take a risk. “You can’t hold me here! I know my rights! Get me my phone call!”