Page 14 of Keeping My Captive

I glance across the aisle to the man who bought me. His dark eyes are locked onto me, and the way he’s watching so intensely sends a shiver running up my spine. He’s looking at me like he can’t figure out what he wants to do — fuck me or kill me.Maybe a little bit of both.

Tearing my gaze away from his, I stare out the window as the plane slowly comes to a stop. I didn’t even know I had fallen asleep. I mean, it’s no surprise given how exhausted I was, but I can’t believe I left myself so unguarded and vulnerable. I guess it says something about my captor, who didn’t assault me or try anything while I was asleep, but I’m still not letting my guard down around him. One little act of kindness can’t make up for the fact that he is kidnapping me.

“Where are we?” I ask him, not expecting an answer.

I’m surprised when he says, “Mexico.”

Mexico. God, I’m not even in the United States anymore. And that’s a long way from New York…

Thiago makes his way down the aisle, winking at me when he walks past. “It’s good to be home,” he announces before exiting the plane.

Mateo stares after him, his eyes narrowed. The tension is almost palpable. Then, his eyes land on me before he stands and says, “Let’s go.”

My hand trembles as I fumble with my seatbelt, and it takes me three times to get the damn release button clicked. Finally free, I stand up and follow my captor down the steps to get off the plane.

I’ve barely put my feet on the ground when I hear Mateo utter something in his native tongue. I turn to see who he’s talking to, and I barely have time to register the fact that there’s a gun in his hand before it goes off.

I watch in horror as Thiago falls to the ground in a lifeless heap. There’s a bullet wound between his dead eyes, which are staring up at me. My gaze slowly moves to my captor, who nonchalantly pulls out a black handkerchief from his front suit pocket and wipes away the spray of blood from his cheek.

I can’t help but wonder if that’s why he wears black, because otherwise the dry-cleaning bill would be astronomical if he just goes around killing everyone, even his so-called friends.

I slowly back away from him, my eyes darting around to the small airport in the distance. It’s not deserted. I can see people milling about inside the building through the windows. If I can just get to it, I can…

“Don’t even think about running,” Mateo says, his voice dark and dangerous.

I don’t even heed his warning. My feet begin moving before my brain can even catch up. I slowly slip out of my high heels and take off running like my life depends on it…because it does. Little bits of gravel dig into my bare feet as I run down the tarmac towards the building, towards someone, anyone, who I hope will be my savior.

“Help me! Someone please help me!” I scream, waving my hands in desperation. Maybe someone will call the authorities or do something. But I don’t make it very far before I’m tackled into a patch of grass beside the tarmac.

The air is knocked out of my lungs as we tumble to the ground. Somehow Mateo keeps most of his weight off of me, taking the brunt of the fall with his shoulder. He grunts in pain, but quickly recovers, straddling me as I reach up, intending to scratch his eyeballs out.

I manage to score his cheek before he grabs my wrists, securing them both with just one of his large hands. He pins them above my head and glowers down at me.

“What did I tell you?” he snaps.

I stare up at him, my mind blank. All I can think about is how I can get out of this situation.

“I told you to not eventhinkabout running. And what did you do?” he hisses angrily. He’s scolding me like a child, and I hate it.

I open my mouth to scream, but then I hear the cock of a gun before he’s pressing the end of the barrel to my temple.

“I haven’t decided whether I’m going to keep you or kill you…but you’re making my decision a lot easier by pulling stunts like this,” he murmurs, scowling.

My entire body shivers uncontrollably beneath him. I just watched my captor kill a man, who appeared to be a friend of his. I know he won’t hesitate to kill me.

“This is your one and only free pass,” Mateo warns before standing and hauling me up with him. He jams the barrel of his gun into my back and growls, “Walk.”

Tears fill my eyes, but I don’t dare let them fall. Now is not the time to appear weak. Weakness will only get me killed. So, I simply obey him, doing a walk of shame back towards the plane, slipping back into my high heels on the way and hating the feeling of little pebbles digging into my soles with every step. There’s a car waiting for us, and he guides me to it. The back door is open, but I hesitate to get in. My hesitation earns me a huff of displeasure before he locks one of his hands around my arm and forces me inside.

It takes a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the dark interior of the car, but I see immediately that I’m not alone. There is a man sitting in the corner of the bench seat opposite of mine. He’s big, bald, tattooed, with a scar running through his eyebrow and left eye, which is completely white in color. The man stares at me intently, merely acknowledging my existence but not speaking a word.

A moment later, Mateo climbs into the car and sits next to him and directly across from me.

“How was your trip?” the man asks with a heavy accent.

“Eventful,” Mateo quips.

“I can see that,” the man says with a smirk.

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