Jemma understood his sick twisted game. She either went along with his requests or he’d turn her into a junky who would do anything for another hit. Either way, Nomar would get what he wanted. He didn’t care if she did it willingly or because the drugs drove her to desperate acts.
Nomar shrugged, then said, “The decision is yours.”
Chapter 52
Flanked by armed bodyguards, Jemma walked across the balcony and took her usual spot at the table. The white tablecloth blew in the wind, held in place by a centerpiece of hibiscus and heliconia flowers. Two bodyguards on the roof pointed sniper rifles at her. Three guards on the main floor stood close enough to tackle and subdue her if she tried to get away.
When she’d been given the options by Nomar five days ago, she’d never guessed that breakfast with him would be on a private island in the Caribbean. From what she could piece together, the yacht had docked in the middle of the night. She’d been sedated in her sleep and transferred from the boat to a luxurious room on the top floor of an extravagant mansion. Her room overlooked a verdant garden that stretched out toward the rippling turquoise waters of the Caribbean Sea. The first morning on the island, she’d endured the meal with Nomar with little fanfare or arguments. What followed had become a regular daily routine of being locked in her room until it was time to share another meal with him. Three meals each day was her only chance to be free of the gildedprison. It was a far better fate than writhing on a floor craving her next fentanyl hit.
Nomar knew she still loathed him but he was playing the long game, hoping his charm and engaging conversation would eventually wear down her defenses. She had forgotten how charismatic he could be. What was more surprising was his engaging conversation, well versed and up-to-date on current events, philosophy and pop culture. If she wasn’t his captive and repulsed by him, she’d be impressed and likely intrigued by the man.
Too bad she knew the evil that lurked beneath that facade. Nomar wanted to deprive her of hope and trick her into thinking life as his captive wouldn’t be as bad as she thought. Deceive her into accepting this new life as her fate and find a way to embrace this way of living with a man she hated. Not even five years would be enough to trigger that kind of change in her but Nomar had more than proved he was a patient man.
His desire for revenge against her had festered over the years they were apart. Patience was an unexpected virtue he had in abundance. He’d likely wait two more to bend her to his will and wants.
Jemma was determined to outlast his manipulations. She had to hang on until Rocco and the Proteus team found her. No matter how many days passed, she never gave up hope that they were using every resource at their disposal to rescue her.
The server, a young woman with soft features and a polite voice, approached the table and filled her champagne flute with mimosa. Nomar had called the woman Beatriz, although he’d never introduced them. Beatriz brought them every meal, greeting Jemma with a polite distance and giving Nomar the over-the-top deferential treatment he demanded.
“What would you like for breakfast this morning, Ms. Winters?”Beatriz asked with a bright smile that belied the strange situation Jemma was in.
“Shouldn’t we wait for Nomar?” Jemma asked. She’d never been brought to a meal when he wasn’t already seated at the table, waiting for her arrival.
“Señor Ortiz had important business to attend to off the island,” Beatriz said, softly. “But he will be back tomorrow. I thought it might be nice for you to have your meals out here in his absence. Luckily, the guards agreed. We don’t need to tell Señor Ortiz.” She gave Jemma’s hand a gentle squeeze.
“Why would you do that?” Jemma asked, touched by the woman’s consideration of her situation. “Will you get in trouble for this?”
“Only if Señor Ortiz finds out. We won’t tell. I didn’t think you would, either?” A hint of panic crept into the woman’s question.
“Of course not,” Jemma said.
Beatriz reached for the carafe of orange juice and leaned closer to Jemma as she poured the liquid into her glass. “You shouldn’t be here. It’s wrong for Señor Ortiz to keep you here locked up like a prisoner.”
“Is that what he’s done to you as well?”
She shook her head as tears welled in her eyes. “My presence here protects my family. It is a small price to pay to ensure they are safe. But I don’t believe that’s your situation, no?”
“No.” Jemma took a sip of the juice as the woman poured water in the other glass. “Has he brought other women here? Had guards watch over them?”
“You are the first.” She turned and grabbed a basket of assorted breads and placed it on the table next to a small bowl filled with butter and honey in tiny jars. “Señor Ortiz informed us that Johnny cakes are a favorite of yours. I took the liberty of having the chef prepare them for you to enjoy.” She lifted the pink cloth revealingwarm Johnny cakes. A cell phone was obscured by the bread near the side of the basket. “I trust that you will enjoy them. Bon appetite.”
“Thank you,” Jemma said, casting a furtive glance at the guards. They were paying almost no attention to her as they chatted with each other. Something they’d never do if Nomar was here.
Reaching her hand under the cloth, she grabbed the phone and placed a cake over it and removed it from the basket. Her hands moved quickly, sliding the bread onto her side plate while she maneuvered the phone into the pocket of her shorts. None of the guards noticed. Satisfied that she’d be able to use the phone when the guards locked her back in her room after breakfast, Jemma relaxed and slathered the cake with butter.
“That looks delicious.”
Jemma turned slowly in her chair. Eddie Baez strolled toward her with a cocky grin plastered on his face. “How are you, Jemma?”
“I’ve been better,” Jemma said in no mood to play games with Nomar’s son. Her focus was finishing breakfast quickly then pretending to be unwell so the guards would take her back to her room. She likely had only one shot to contact the secure Proteus line. She couldn’t blow it. After that, she’d need to find a place to hide the phone so Nomar would never know she’d had it or who had given it to her.
Eddie sat in the chair next to hers, pulling it closer. “I remember you now. Eighteen years is a long time, but you’ve aged like fine wine. So beautiful. No wonder my father can’t get over you. I feel bad for Rocco, though.”
“Do you?” Jemma asked, hoping to get some information out of Eddie about Rocco.
“It’s unfortunate that we needed El Sombro to put our plans in motion. Rocco was always good to me. He didn’t tell anyone about my past as a CI for the DEA. If he’d hinted that we knew each otherback in San Juan, my entire deal with El Sombro would’ve gone up in smoke. But he had my back. That’s why it hurt me to set him up but it couldn’t be avoided. Now, my father has taken you from him and he’s left with nothing.”
“You set Rocco up? How?” Jemma said.
