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I returned my gaze to the TV screen in front of me and feigned indifference.
‘Go fuck yourself in the ass with your gun,’ I hissed.
He leaned back and away, as far as he could, which wasn’t very far in the cramped confines of economy. ‘You’re not afraid of me, are you?’
Of course I’m afraid of you. I could feel his eyes burning into the side of my face as I pushed my food to the side. ‘Nope,’ I said boldly.
Murphy took the meal from my tray and held it in his hand.
‘You should go to the bathroom while you have a chance,’ he said pointedly.
I was confused. ‘Emilio said —’
‘It’s a nine-hour flight,’ Murphy said in a low voice. ‘If someone noticed you hadn’t used the bathroom once in that whole time they would think it very strange.’
I saw the opportunity for a few minutes alone and latched my tray table up. Murphy sat to the side, letting me pass. I slid past him, trying my best not to touch against him any more than I had to. I might have told him I wasn’t afraid of him, but truthfully, I was terrified.
I was just good at hiding that from him. I’d always had an excellent poker face.
Must have gotten that from my mother.
I hurried down the narrow aisle without looking back. I wished Este was here with me and suddenly I was overwhelmed with visions of him. It was getting harder and harder to push my terror down, to stop myself from having a complete meltdown. I’d told myself that I was only allowed to break down and sob when I was alone. The closest bathroom stall was vacant and I stepped in, closing the door with a small sigh of relief. I caught sight of myself in the mirror and immediately wished I hadn’t; I looked awful. Rather than covering up the black circles under my eyes, Murphy’s dodgy concealer job had actually intensified my exhausted appearance. My eyes were bloodshot, and cheap mascara clumped my black eyelashes together in haphazard sections.
I turned the tap on, cupping water and bringing it to my mouth. Small sips, Emilio had said. I let myself swallow a little water and spat the rest down the sink with great reluctance. As I straightened again, I stuck my tongue out. It no longer looked pink and smooth; instead, it had angry red indentations scalloped around the edges. I’d been clenching my teeth so tightly since the moment I had seen Emilio’s men in the alley, it was a wonder my teeth hadn’t started to crack under the pressure.
My head began to spin as the events of the last day came crashing back into me again.
I closed the toilet seat lid and sat down, dissolving into hot, salty tears before my ass had even hit the seat. What the hell was happening? In less than twenty-four hours I’d gone from college student, girlfriend and daughter to a drug mule and a fucking hostage 35,000 feet in the air.
I thought for the first time about what this meant for my baby boy. My Luis.
In my mind, my fingers traced his perfect rosebud lips and dark eyelashes as he stared back at me with my mother’s eyes, a brighter blue than my own.
I started to sob loudly, pressing my hands over my mouth to try and suppress the noise.
I almost had a heart attack when a loud rap sounded at the door. ‘I won’t be long!’ I called to whoever was out there, jumping to my feet. The knocking continued. ‘Go away!’ I yelled.
Suddenly, the door burst open and the tiny space was filled with him.
‘I thought you might do this,’ he said, slamming the door shut behind him so I was trapped.
I jerked backwards just as Murphy’s hand closed around a handful of my hair. I let him pull me towards him, not enjoying the prospect of losing part of my scalp in an aeroplane toilet.
‘Get out!’ I protested loudly.
‘No,’ he replied. ‘You’ve been in here long enough, sweetheart.’
‘I’ll scream,’ I threatened, glancing at the door behind him. ‘I’ll scream so loud, people will think I’m being murdered. The hostesses will help me.’
‘Who do you think let me in here?’ he taunted, his bright blue eyes wild with excitement and anger. ‘I’m a fucking air marshal, sweetheart. Remember?’
‘Fuck you,’ I spat, pushing his chest with my hands.
That pissed him off. He clenched his jaw, then reached out and slammed my head into the wall. I was too distracted by the pain in my temple to stop him from wrapping his arm around my throat. His chokehold was tight, leaving only a tiny opening in my windpipe to sip at the air.
The room spun. ‘I can’t breathe,’ I rasped, clawing at his arm. In the mirror, I saw the crazy look in his eyes and my stomach lurched. His nostrils flared as he breathed heavily, one arm around my neck, the opposite hand pulling my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze in the mirror. And what I saw there terrified me beyond belief. This man could actually kill me right now, in this toilet stall on a fucking aeroplane.
‘I think you misunderstand the situation you’re in,’ he said through gritted teeth. Black dots started to swim in my vision. Don’t pass out. If I passed out, who knew what he would do to me. The thought of what he was capable of made me shudder.
