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‘I’m in charge here, do you understand? If I decide you’re a risk, I will shoot you in your pretty little face before you can argue with me about it. And all of this will have been for nothing. I’ll go back to Colombia and I’ll kill every single person you’ve ever met.’
His eyes flashed as he delivered the final sentence.
‘Including your son.’
I’d gone limp in his chokehold, but the mention of Luis sent me into a frenzied struggle. I kicked at the counter in front of me, driving us back into the wall behind Murphy. He was jolted enough that his hold on me loosened minutely, and I took the chance to tilt my head down and open my mouth, biting as hard as I could into the meaty bit of skin below his wrist.
‘Bitch!’ he yelled, pulling his arm away. I whirled around and lashed out with my fist, getting him in the nose with a satisfying crunch and a burst of blood. I thanked my lucky stars that I’d chosen to swing with my left hand, the black onyx ring my grandmother had given me entirely responsible for the damage to Murphy’s face.
My hand throbbed from the impact. I shook it, trying to ease the pain a little, and stared at my knuckles. The skin had split and was bleeding over my index finger.
Without warning, a hand wrapped around my face, pushing me back into the mirror. The back of my head hit it with a dull thunk, and something cold pressed into my forehead.
A gun.
I scrambled to get a hold on the counter behind me, looking up past the gun between my eyes at an enraged Murphy. He looked as bad as I felt, or possibly worse, wiping his bloodied nose with the back of his hand as he stared me down. I cowered, silently willing his finger away from the trigger.
‘You can’t shoot a gun on a plane,’ I whispered, closing my eyes. Fresh tears tracked their way down my cheeks and dripped onto my chest.
‘Yes, I can,’ he murmured. ‘I know just where to shoot you so there’s no exit wound.’
He was an air marshal. Of course he knew how to shoot a gun on a plane without risking the rest of the passengers by puncturing the hull with a mis-aimed trajectory.
‘Open your eyes,’ he demanded.
I did, but I immediately regretted it. In his free hand he held the crumpled picture of a sweet baby boy, the picture I’d taken from my locket and hidden in the rubbish bin.
Blank face. Blank face. I tried to convey confusion. ‘What is that? Is that a baby?’ I shifted my eyes to his face. He wasn’t buying.
‘Oh, Mariana,’ he hissed, pressing the gun into my forehead so hard I cried out. ‘I know all your secrets, sweetheart, and all your lies. Luis, right?’
He knew his name. If he knew his name, he knew everything.
‘No,’ I moaned, feeling my face shift into sorrow and terror as I reached out for the photo. He snatched it away and shook his head.
‘Mine now,’ he said, pocketing the photo.
‘He’s not my son,’ I lied.
Murphy sneered. ‘Of course he is. Little Luis. You think I didn’t do my research last night after you went to sleep, Annie? I have access to every single thing about you. Hospital records, adoption papers . . .’
FUCK!
I took a shuddering breath inwards. ‘Did you tell Emilio?’ I asked in a small voice.
‘No. But I will. Unless you start fucking behaving.’
Oh, God. ‘What do you want?’ I asked in a voice that sounded far calmer than the fear and rage swirling within me.
‘Nothing, yet. For now, do as you’re told. If I tell you to visit the bathroom, visit the fucking bathroom. If I tell you to take the food tray? Take. The. Fucking. Food. Tray. If I tell you to do anything —’ he paused for effect, pressing the gun deeper into the flesh between my eyes, ‘— you do it.’ His eyes flared wider, and I flinched.
I nodded, letting my shoulders sag under the weight of my defeat.
‘Good girl,’ he said, letting the gun fall and patting me on the head, as if I were a goddamn dog. He lifted my chin so we were eye to eye. ‘You’re brave, I’ll give you that. You’re not like the other girls. But in this world, you’re going to have to start being smarter, or somebody is going to snuff you out.’
* * *
The rest of the flight ground on so slowly, I started to feel like I was going insane; that maybe I had actually been shot in the bathroom stall, and this was hell, and I was stuck here forever.
