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With my feet light and my heart singing, I walk inside the airport without a hurry and with my hood over my head. I don’t want the security guards to notice me, especially as I have some time to waste and I don’t want to look like I’m running away from the head of the Mexican Mafia family.
So instead of rushing forward, I go through the self check-in kiosk and take my time, looking for the security checkpoint. Well, I don’t even have to pretend to be lost because it’s actually the first time I’m on my own in an airport, and it’s kinda intimidating. I walk around for a bit, checking the signs, until I find the map of Chicago O'Hare and stop in front of it. God, how do people—
“Be quiet.”
It’s all the warning I get before someone steps into my personal space and grabs my elbow so tightly it makes me hiss. A wave of freezing horror runs through my body, forcing me to stand still while my heart jumps into a frantic rhythm. Shit.Shit!
I see a man in dark clothes from the corner of my eye, his shoulder touching mine, and I swallow. Is it one of Dad’s men? Did they find out about my plan? And…wait, why do I recognize this goddamn voice?
I finally turn to the guy, pushing my fear deeper inside, and he squeezes my elbow tighter in a warning. “Don’t make any sharp moves. You don’t want me to—”
“You!” I exclaim in surprise and anger, and he raises his eyebrows with a look that sends a shiver down my back. I immediately lower my voice because, yes, I don’t want any witnesses either, but honestly what the hell! “Did you follow me here?”
It’s the goddamn thug from the charity fair! Okay, maybe with looks like that I shouldn’t call him a thug. Dark wavy hair, sharp eyes, commanding voice, and ah, those arms! Everything about him is so damn attractive that I can’t even find it in me to be mad at him—at least not until he harshly tugs me after him.
“Hey, what do you think you’re doing?”
I try to pull my arm out of his grip, but the guy only grabs me tighter—shit, I’m sure there’s gonna be a bruise—and forces me to walk next to him. He’s strong enough to hold my body close to his, and I feel a wave of heat that immediately turns into anger.
“Let me go!”
“I told you to be quiet, didn’t I?” he almost growls at me and suddenly opens the door of the men’s bathroom, tugging me inside.
I immediately try to get away from him, but the man has no problem controlling me with one hand. He harshly turns me around to face him, but before I have enough time to complain, the guy looks me right in the eyes—and something in the depth of his cold gaze makes my guts tighten.
“Don’t make me usethis.”
I part my lips to ask what he’s talking about, still feeling more confused than scared—and the words get stuck in my throat when I feel a touch of something cold and solid against my ribcage. Dad has always kept me away from his business, but I know the feel and shape of a gun barrel well enough to recognize it without looking down.
I sharply inhale and hold my breath, feeling my heart pounding against the barrel. Oh shit. I’m in fucking trouble.
I don’t dare to move or look away, so I hold the man’s gaze—the dark look in his eyes doesn’t change even a bit, distant and cold as he watches me gulp for air. It’s clearly not the first time he’s held someone at gunpoint, and I don’t have to look around to know that we are in the only place without cameras.
“Who are you?” I whisper, only now realizing that my throat is dry and aching from nerves.
“Paolo Messina,” he says without blinking an eye, and I widen my eyes. My skin immediately presses into his gun, but at this point I don’t even notice it.
“Messina?” I repeat with a chuckle, barely holding on to my sanity. The middle of my chest hurts from the growing mixture of horror, panic, and fury. “Is this a joke?”
“No, Señorita Jacinta. It is a kidnapping.”
The colorless walls of the bathroom sway around me, and I feel a sudden rush of nausea. My feet become heavy for a moment, and I lean onto the sink with Paolo’s gun following my every movement. Oh my god…
I stare down at the sink for a few seconds, trying to gather myself together, when a wave of anger rises in me. Today ismygoddamn day. I want my dream back. I want my freedom from all of that bullshit.
“What if I scream?” I spit out and raise my head to look at him, curling my hands into fists against the sink. “What if I let everyone know that there’s fucking Mafia in the airport?”
But Paolo only chuckles, watching me without an ounce of sympathy in his eyes. “Ifyou survive that—and I very much doubt you would—wouldn’t you have to explain to your father why you were here in the first place?”
A wave of shivers runs down my spine at the thought, and I swallow and look away from Paolo, avoiding his piercing gaze. Damn it. How much does he know?
“Oh, I know all about you.” He steps closer, almost pressing his body to mine, and leans to my ear, lowering his voice. “I know your father, I know your bodyguards, and I know every single person you’ve talked to over the last month. I know the library near Lincoln Park you visit every day, I know your favorite chocolate cream puffs, and I know the bakery you get them from. Jacinta, I’ve been following you for weeks—there’s nothing you can hide from me.”
With every word he says, my mind spins faster and faster until I find myself gasping for breath, the floor shaking under my feet. Is this what Dad was trying to protect me from? Paolo wasn’t joking—it is a damn kidnapping, and I’m too shaken to figure out what to do. How can I escape? Where can I get help?
I try to swallow the lump in my throat and slowly look up, meeting Paolo’s gaze through the mirror. He looks like a menace with a predatory smirk on his lips and the gun glinting in his hand. What is he gonna do with me if I follow him?
What is he gonna do if I don’t?
