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I wriggled into the backseat and Cletus shut the door.
Paul turned around again, reached over, and slowly removed the duct tape from my skin, and then he offered me a bottle of water.
I stared at it for a moment, wondering why he was giving it to me, and why they hadn’t bothered to blindfold me again. His offer wasn’t about caring if I was comfortable or not. It was because of the faceless Dante.
In that moment, I was terrified of a man I’d never met.
I took the water but didn’t drink right away.
Paul noticed my hesitation. “It’s not drugged.”
“How do I know?” I asked, my voice raspy.
He shrugged. “You don’t. Guess you’ll just have to trust me.”
My throat was parched, and I wanted to remove the sour taste of fear from my mouth. I unscrewed the bottle and drank. When I’d had my fill, I screwed on the cap and leaned my head back against the seat.
Cletus got into the car, buckled himself in, and we zoomed off into the night.
My mind was in overdrive. Terror of the unknown blasted through me like a wrecking ball. I was at the mercy of two men.
A phone vibrated somewhere in the front seat. Paul reached into his pocket and extracted his cell and put it to his ear. “Hello? Yeah. We’re about five hours away.” He looked at me in the rearview window. “Yeah, she’s awake. No, no one saw us. We took her blindfold off to let her piss. We can put it back on if—Okay, sure. I gave her some water, and I’m making sure Cletus keeps his hands to himself.”
Cletus made a noise in the back of his throat and shot Paul a glare.
“Right. See you in a few hours.” Paul hung up and set his phone down in the center console.
“What the hell, man! You’re going to get me in trouble with the boss.”
“Cool it,” Paul commanded. “And no more blindfolding her.”
Cletus grumbled but then settled down. We drove for another few minutes before I heard a snore and knew Cletus had fallen asleep.
Goosebumps prickled along my arms as cold air circulated through the car. With each mile that Paul drove, my fear escalated, building slowly like the pressure beneath a volcano about to erupt.
His eyes met mine in the rearview mirror, lingering for a moment before looking back to the road.
“I have money,” I pleaded. “Lots of money. Just let me go and I’ll—”
He turned up the staticky music on the radio to drown out my voice. Cletus didn’t stir.
Leaning my head against the window, I waited for dawn.
* * *
The sun was just starting to rise when we neared the Mexican border. As we sat in line to pass through the checkpoint, I noticed guards everywhere, standing at the ready, armed with machine guns and dressed in light tan and brown camouflage. Sniffer dogs were moved from car to car in the inbound United States side by large, mean-looking men. Suspect vehicles were being X-rayed by special machines off to the side after being separated.
We pulled to a stop, and I opened my mouth to scream, but before I could get out a sound, Cletus whirled in his seat and chopped me in the throat. I choked up immediately. My breath caught in my lungs, and my eyes brimmed with tears.
Paul rolled down the driver’s side window. A guard wearing sunglasses left his booth and approached us. He looked more like a soldier and was built like a tank. He leaned down and peered into the car, and I knew it was all going to be over soon. He’d see me bound, fighting for air, tears in my eyes. He’d sound an alarm, and before I knew it, I’d be back home with Boxer, safe in his arms.
My eyes widened in supplication at him as I struggled to regain my breath, but all he did was smile at me. He held out his palm. Paul passed over two passports and the guard gave them a cursory glance before handing them back. He took a few steps away from the vehicle and waved us through the checkpoint.
The guys began to laugh.
Cletus looked at me, a sinister smirk across his face. “What? Did you think this was our first time doing this? These men are Alejandro Garcia’s men—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Paul snapped. “Jesus, you’re a goddamn moron.”
