Page 57 of Winters Heat

Drunk heckles sloshed into nasal laden snores.

The night warmed to dawn. Mosquito bites pocked her skin. Her sweatpants and Colby’s shirt clung to her sweat soaked body. Her knotted hair stuck to her neck and face. She hadn’t slept a hot second.

Time passed slowly until heavy footsteps crunched near her door. Keys jangled. Mia scampered back to a corner, finding it hard with her shoulder. She shook. Terrified, she crouched, awaiting her future.

A stubby man with an evil scar across his face, grabbed her, and bound her wrists before he wrenched her upright and dragged her in tow. How many of them were there? Too many to remember. This one, Senor Scissor Face, would be hard to forget.

With silent pleas, Mia begged for help. For escape. For Colby.Where is he?

Senor Scissor Face released her, and she crashed to the ground. She swallowed twice against her parched throat. No reprieve.

A handsome man stood a mile high in front of her, and her terror morphed into anger. He oozed self-important power. His white silk shirt and pressed linen pants looked obscene, given where she’d spent the night. He was clean-shaven with perfectly gelled hair. Not so much as a wisp was out of place. He smelled exotic and spicy.El Jefe.

She blinked once, then again and again. Words fled. But he didn’t appear interested in a conversation. Mia stood, as if for a presentation.

“Ah, Miss Mia Kensington. Thank you for joining us here in beautiful Colombia.” He motioned to Senor Scissor Face. The painful bindings were cut with a quick slice of a knife. “I apologize for the measures my men took to ensure your safe arrival. But it was for the best. Are you hungry? Can I get you anything?”

What the…what?

Yeah, a private plane back to the States. With a chair.

His English was perfect with the flair of a beautiful accent. There was no other way to describe him other than… exquisite. He appeared, sounded, and smelled expensive, and was striking in impeccable clothes.

“Who are you? What do you want with me?” She knew who he was and wanted to sound tough and menacing. Heck, she wanted to channel her anger into something useful, shocking him as much as he did her. Cartel dictators shouldn’t be perfect and polished.

“Miss Kensington, I have been pleasant and welcoming. Your attitude will not help you.” He pursed his lips, and his tanned face crinkled in entertainment at her expense. “I think we should start over. A new start between newer friends, Miss Kensington. Now, welcome to my paradise. Please join me for lunch.”

He moved away from her, and Senor Scissor Face gave her a hard push to follow. They walked toward a shaded cabana. Billowing swaths of fabric danced in the heavy air as they hung to a pergola and flowered trellis. A wooden table and chairs draped in a brilliant tablecloth was protected by armed men.

Armed guards flanked El Jefe. The back of their heads rotated side to side in search of an eminent threat.His name is Colby Winters, and those goons have got nothing on him. El Jefe paused with ridiculous grace and motioned for her to join him in a manner befitting a cotillion teacher.

An older woman filled both their glasses with ice water. In an instant, the tall glasses began to sweat. Mia was dying for a tall drink of anything cool and wet, but she didn’t dare go for the glass.

“My name is Juan Carlos Silva. I understand that you interfered with my business in your country. Is that correct?” His accent made the sinister accusation sound elegant.

Mia shook her head. Tendrils of uncombed hair stuck to her sweaty forehead and cheek, and she made no move to push them back into place.

“My dear, please do not lie to me. Would you like a fruit salad? I am sure you have not snacked during your visit.” He snapped manicured fingers.

No, she hadn’t snacked. Asshole.

The older woman placed a crystal bowl of fresh fruit on their plates.

“The food and water are fine. You will not get sick from them, and I will be insulted if you do not join me. I believe we also have a delicious plate of sandwiches for lunch.” He took a bite of pineapple. “Simply delicious. Please, go ahead, and start.”

She analyzed his behavior, his gestures. The delusion and extravagance he offered in this meal was narcissistic and self-absorbed. That didn’t bode well for her chances. Mia picked up her heavy silver fork and speared a piece of green melon. Juan Carlos watched as she took a cautious bite and swallowed.

“Excellent, my dear. Now, please drink up. You are in the Colombian jungle. The heat and humidity will kill you if you do not stay hydrated.”

Dehydration would kill her? Not likely.

He played up his accent when he pretended to care. Interesting. She took a sip of water, holding back the need to guzzle the glass empty. Sweat dripped down her breastbone and shoulder blades, and dirt caked her hands and under her finger nails. He didn’t seem to notice.

“Thank you, Mr. Silva.” She had no idea what else to say at this point. Maybe her manners upped the odds of survival.

Juan Carlos’s lips quirked with an understated smile, and he tilted his head. “No, thank you. I appreciate the respect and civility. Truthfully, I was unsure as to how an American woman would behave under these circumstances. And after our first exchange, your tone nearly solidified my concern.”

Mia nodded, again unsure how to respond, scared she’d say the wrong thing, and die before Colby showed up wielding that knife he strapped to his leg. Colby would make sure El Jefe’s gelled hair went unkempt, and those clean clothes were sullied. She focused on that daydream.

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