Winters Heat (Titan) (22 page)

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.

“Miss Kensington, tell me why you stole my files.”

His pleasant smile and placating conversation evaporated. The veins in his neck popped.

The fork shook in her hand, and she accidently clanged it against the crystal bowl.

“I don’t know what you mean.” No way would she fall into his trap with such ease.

“Let me see if I can refresh your memory, my dear. My men followed that disk to America—where that soldier stashed it. Very clever of the young man, telling his trusted therapist. But here is where my annoyance grows. You took it. You and your counterpart. Your compadre. Now, I did not send my best men to retrieve it. That was my mistake. But they were not amateurs. Somehow, you evaded them with the help of your partner. You are here, and that man will come here to barter some deal for your life.”

He knew a lot more than she thought he did. Time for a different tactic. She shook her head. “Mr. Silva, if you know what the disk has on it, then you know he won’t trade me for it. I’m collateral damage. He isn’t going to come. His job was to secure it. I’m sure by now, it’s secure.” God, please don’t let that be true. Let Colby come as soon as possible. Please.

“I think you underestimate him, Miss Kensington. Men like him, they walk a very dark line. But one they consider honorable. Men like him live for the fight, but they do not leave a woman to die. They help. That is what they do. And, I hate to be so blunt, but unless your friend and I work out a business deal, you will die to prove my point. It is all business, my dear. I hope you understand that.”

“Well, thank you for being honest with me.” She smirked before she thought better of it. The oppressive heat skewed her judgment, and she needed to be smart about this. She could talk her way into more time, increasing the likelihood Colby could save her.

“The sarcasm is not necessary.” Juan Carlos showed his impeccable white teeth in a garish smile, extended his arms as if welcoming her to the family. “I promised you to my second in command. However, if you have something to offer, if you can bring your man to me, then I will spare you that unpleasantness.”

Mia couldn’t think straight. Her head pounded. “I don’t understand. What do you want from me?”

“Stupid woman.” His hands slammed on the table in fisted balls, and the table settings jumped with a loud crash.

The noise startled her. She shook to attention. “Your men grabbed me at his house. By now, he’ll know I’m gone.”
Tell him what he already knows. Buy time.

“I am not an idiot. You will speak to him, tell him I will consider a trade. You for the file.”

“I just met him. It hasn’t been a normal few days. I have no idea how to get a hold of him.” More or less, that was true.

Silva raged and slammed his hand on the table again, making her jump at the clatter. “If I can find his hidden house, I can surely track down a phone number. Do not waste my time.”

“I’m not. I promise.” Tears welled in her eyes.

“Miss Kensington.” He calmed a degree but still spit fire. He took a long sip of his ice water and dabbed at his lips with his napkin. “You will agree to my request, or I will hand you over to Alejandro, my number two.”

For the first time, Mia noticed Alejandro a dozen yards away. He stood savage. The gleam in his eye turned her stomach as he sneered his vulgar face. Alejandro licked his lips, and his fingers flexed against his thighs. He looked one defiant order away from losing his restraint and salivated like a junkyard dog, frothy spittle at the corners of his mouth. His face was pocked and sunburned, greasy and hairy. He looked heavy in the gut but strong in his arms. Sweat dampened his pits, and stains marked his pants. That was his number two?

Mia shook her head, her eyes glued to Alejandro. “Mr. Silva, I’m not worth that trade. He won’t agree to it.”

“Alejandro does not look like much, but he is very important to me. To my enterprise. You would be his reward for his continued excellence.”

Alejandro licked his lips again, this time, with more tongue.

An involuntary shudder rippled through her. “Wait.” She didn’t know what to say. They would kill her but not before torturing and raping her. Her tough girl act faded, and she whimpered. “I’ll do it.”

“Of course you will.” Juan Carlos motioned for the sandwiches to be served. With an expedient delivery, several types of tea sandwiches were placed on the fine china plates with the crusts removed. Such contradictions. Dainty sandwiches as she dined with a monster in hell. Narcissist was too weak a description. She should tack on sociopathic, pathological, and deranged.

They sat in silence as he devoured his finger sandwiches, and Mia picked at hers with polite intention. She would follow his requests, be demure when she needed to, and play to his psyche. She would do whatever the hell it took to live until Colby showed up.

Dabbing his mouth with a linen napkin, Juan Carlos eyed her up and down. “If he comes for you, it will be on my terms. But just in case either of you try to deceive me, you will stay in the main house with me.”

With him? Less scary but not encouraging.

He stood with a smooth air about him and walked away, a gaggle of armed guards in stride. Alejandro and Senor Scissor Face stalked toward her. They bound her hands again and pushed her down a path. They rounded a bend, then stopped at a pickup truck with a partial canvas cover. Senor Scissor Face tossed her onto the truck bed and jumped in, perching above her, while Alejandro got in the truck cab.

With every divot in the makeshift road, her body slammed onto the hot metal bed. They traversed further into the jungle. Mia closed her eyes and wished Colby could read her mind. Until then, she was alone.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The pickup truck rumbled to a stop before an imposing wood gate with a half dozen armed men guarding it. A stone fence surrounded the compound, soaring at least twenty feet high. The guards did a bored once-over of the truck until they saw Mia. Laughter and catcalls followed. Animals. They were all animals.

The gate opened and closed, caging her inside the sprawling estate. They stopped in front of a Spanish mission-style mansion, with stucco walls, wide sweeping arches, and an expansive manicured lawn. It looked straight from the pages of Architectural Digest. Immaculate and pristine, minus the armed guards crawling around like ants in their colony.

Senor Scissor Face pulled her out of the truck and toward the mansion. They stepped to massive wooden doors, which clicked open. Cool air conditioning washed over her body. It was heaven.

Mia looked around, breathing in the chilled space. The air was fragrant. It reinvigorated her. Marble floors gleamed, the high ceilings soared, and expensive tapestries hung in each corridor. Decadence. Perfect for a maniacal narcissist with trafficking money.

They moved up one side of the grand double entryway staircase and toward the last room at the end of a bricked in corridor. His boots echoed down the unfriendly hallway. After unlocking the deadbolt, he pushed her in, a hand tight on her back, then shut the door behind him with a resounding thud. The latch clicked, and Senor Scissor Face stood against the only way out.

The windowless room was lit by a small light bulb, casting a heavy amber glow. There was a bed, a blanket, and one small closed door. He untied her wrists and pointed to the door.

“Shower. Clean up. Now.”

He leered, but left, locking the deadbolt from the hall. Shudders ran down her back. Silence caved in on the dank room.

A lot of atrocious acts had happened in this room.

She made her way into the bathroom. A dress was folded on the barren counter. No mirror. No lighting. She left the door open for a slice of light and got in the shower.

Raw welts encircled her bloodied wrists. Bruises throbbed across her body. Bug bites itched. A cold shower would clear her mind. She needed a plan. Think like Colby. What would Colby do? But his course of action didn’t surface. She closed her eyes to bite off the tears.

Someone pounded on the door, which sounded as if it would cave into the room. It brought her back to her cruel reality.

“
Vamanos. Vamanos.
Let’s go,” a man shouted through the door. Fear churned, slushing up the fruit salad in her stomach. She slammed the water off and wrapped the towel around her fast, praying the voice would stay outside. She ignored the raw burns and scratches, and shimmied the dress and her worn underwear on seconds before the deadbolt unlocked and heavy booted footsteps walked in.

Alejandro flanked her side in an instant. He huddled over her, harshly breathed her in. Mia’s stomach catapulted, and she braced for the worst, but he laughed and forced her into the hall. They moved through the labyrinth and arrived in a polished sitting room. Juan Carlos sat on a spotless white couch, sipping out of a demitasse cup. Spicy cologne and the aromatic coffee intermixed. Everything was flawless. Everything except that Alejandro drooled over her, and she looked like a wet dog in her cartel-gifted sundress. Her legs quaked, and she tried to lock her knees to hide her reaction to the men.