He nods. “Sort of. In my mind, I’m repaying a favor, even though I was already working for him at the time. In his mind, I was an employee, and he wanted to help my family. I’m more than happy to work as his head of staff.”
El Fantasma helped his family?
Before I get the chance to dig deeper, a radio crackles from his pocket. “Sal,” he answers immediately, holding it to his mouth.
“Everything is set up. Bring the girl.”
I sway at the sound of my tormentor's voice. My heartbeat slams into my ribs, and I inhale a thin breath of air.
“On our way,” Sal confirms, shoving his chair out behind him. His eyes find my worried gaze. “Let’s go. We have somewhere important to be.”
As if attuned to an unspoken order, the rest of the men in the dining hall all stand in unison. I stiffen at the odd display.
“What’s going on, Sal?” I’m like a corpse in the chair, rigid and cold, too terrified to move.
Sal steps around the table and sets a hand on my shoulder. I lean forward and scan the loitering men, paused and primed for the next command. “Don’t be scared. I promise you, it’s okay. He’s waiting for us.”
“Us, as in you and me? I won’t be alone with him?”
His hand slides to my clenched palm on the table and wraps over the top of it. “All the staff are in attendance this morning. We’ll finish by midday. Come on, he’ll get impatient if we keep him waiting.” I can’t help the tremor as Sal pulls me to my feet and rubs my biceps affectionately. “Take a deep breath before you faint.”
I remind myself of the woman I was before a stranger trapped me in paradise. My backbone and sheer determination are my only defense. El Fantasma took the knowledge he wanted, no doubt as leverage, but in the end, drugged or not, I gave permission. I’m to blame for admitting the attraction brewing within me, and he’s one to loathe for using sneaky underhanded tactics to try and break my spirit.
The men follow behind us as we tread the raised walkway. Tropical heat sticks to my skin, trickling down my spine with cold apprehension. Sal mutters into his radio in his native language, and I keep the pace, gulping down short nervous breaths. My lungs won’t expand to full capacity, and my face tingles. I’m not ready to see him again.
A cluster of helicopters hovers overhead in the azure expanse. Sal looks back over his shoulder to the growing crowd. “Wait for the next one to land.” He nods to the men.
As we round the bend, revolving blades cut into the stifling heat and whisk up a cooling gust. Sweet and earthy wafts of purple striped passionflowers tease of heaven where only anguish exists.
Standing in front of the glossy black chopper is my nemesis, wearing his guise of a sports cap and shielding aviators. Arms fold over a cotton shirt that glues to his dominant form. Ebony cargo pants have replaced the usual camo shorts. He almost looks approachable. If it weren’t for the lordly posture and my unanswered question. My belly roils at the prospect of being fucked after I blacked out. It twists and tightens at the unrighteousness of such a vile act.
I falter as we near his hidden features. Sal presses a hand to my lower back as if sensing my unruly nerves. El Fantasma lowers his chin in recognition of the thoughtful act and shifts in his boots.
“Sal.” I study how his teeth are exposed as he mouths the name like he hates the simple gesture of comfort an employee has offered me. He nods sharply and Sal’s contact disappears. “She’ll ride with me. You can organize the men,” his voice sounds over the mechanical rotation.
“We’ll be right behind you, sir,” Sal replies, and then I’m alone with the one man I’d rather slap than sit next to in a confined space.
Without uttering a word, he holds out a gloved hand to guide me into the helicopter. My hair whips in the wind, and I duck a little lower, afraid to lose my head to a powerful blade. Perhaps that destiny would be the better option rather than willingly welcoming his touch again. “Where are we going?” I shout over the engine roar. “Are you letting me go?”
He shakes his head, and he snatches my wrist. Jerking me into him, he buries his nose into the twisted mound of hair below my ear. “Don’t test my patience. You’re so eager to leave, even when you know you can’t.” His native cadence thickens like a vine, ready to strangle me with sin.
My temple slants into his sunglasses. Lime zest and coconut scents, enhanced with passion, electrify my wits. Leather fists scrunch. With my heart hammering against my ribcage, I struggle to pull away from him. Harsh fingertips bite into the clammy skin covering my pulsating veins.
“Don’t fight me. You won’t win.” The air frosts. “Get on board. I guarantee your safety on this trip.”
And with that, he stands tall, opens his palm, and releases me. I rub the tingly patch of reddened skin, narrowing my eyes when he motions to the aircraft door. When I peer over my shoulder to the army of men, all I find are diverted eyes. Even Sal has his back to us. A dart of futility punctures my heart. There’s no point retaliating. I’m a hapless female in a crocodile infested river.
El Fantasma pivots and climbs inside. Facing forward, he clips in a harness, then directs his sole attention to me as I join him. Even with spacious passenger seats, I still manage to knock my knee into his leg. A buzz catapults up my thigh and charges straight for my core.
Flashbacks consume me. The thrill of illicit pleasure. The risk of letting go. Bare hands entwined in messy curls. Vibrations sparking millions of haunting fireworks. Nothing else. No forced entry. No biting stretch of steely length.
“Where are we going?” I ask. My hands quake when the catch clicks securely in place.
“We’re paying our respects to the dead,” he shouts back, sliding the sunglasses down his nose. Folding the legs, he pockets them in his shirt, then tugs the peak of his cap lower to shield his eyes from the pilot. Fixing a headset over his ears, he positions the microphone to his mouth. I mirror him, unhooking a headset attached to a curly cord that muffles the noise with padded ear cushions.
My stomach levitates as we take to the sky. Tipping left, I stare out the window to find several other helicopters following our flight path. A swarm of soldiers chasing their ruler.
Our unspoken silence settles heavily in the passenger compartment. I study the landscape of never-ending proud trees as we soar in the heavens, gliding over hell. From up in the vast blue sky, wooden walkways stretch out like octopi’s arms, and secluded cabins hideaway in the jungle vegetation, covertly secluded from above. The oasis sprawls for miles, weaving through nature and flanking the bowed riverbank. Muddy-green water bends like a serpent, substantial and falsely serene.
It’s only when I see the expansive constructed village for myself that its vastness strikes a blow. He’s not an accident survivor, or just any guy holding me prisoner in a fancy hut. The formidable man beside me owns a facility more exclusive and grander than any resort I’ve ever read about. His unassuming casual attire hides obscene wealth. El Fantasma is impressive, wealthy, and cruelly handsome. A villainous combination framing the worst antagonist of all.
The bold sun dazzles, catching my eyes as the helicopter swoops. My fingers clench as the dropping sensation makes my heart plunge with it. Daring a sideways glance, I discover virescent eyes that were pinned to my profile. Sunlight flickers in the green terrain of his gaze as he studies me. Wide shoulders draw back as our assessment collides. Disguised hands spread his thighs, and his lips part ever so slightly as if he’s forcing calmness. A mindless wish to believe he’s reliving the exact moment those lips of his landed on my sensitive, moist flesh goads me. Until he raises his voice.