Chapter 31
Ayla
I don’t know how I convinced myself that Alani was safe.
I knew it was a risk the second Cerberus pulled me from the compound, but it’s not like I could’ve demanded that I stay.
Every person that helped Cortez run that place was killed.
I watched from inside one of their SUVs as they lined the bodies up outside.
Cortez wasn’t in the mix. Pirro had said as much the day before. The boss had left on a business trip which I have to presume is him making the rounds to check on his other compounds.
I thought not telling her what happened would maintain her safety, but Cortez got to her first. She hates me.
She thinks I’m some sort of pervert that’s been lying to her for months while I made pornographic videos.
I shudder at the thought of her watching anything I’ve been forced to do.
I have no doubt he sent her some of the most extreme stuff.
His goal, of course, would be to drive a wedge as far between us as he could manage, so he wouldn’t start with the vanilla stuff.
He threatened me with this. I guess I just thought with my months of compliance that he’d leave her alone.
I jump at the sound of a horn outside the room, my eyes locked on the door as if someone will kick it in at any moment.
I’ve been jumpy since Alani hung up on me two days ago.
As insistent as I was to get to my sister, I had to trust that Nash was doing everything he could to get me back to her.
With the militia and border patrol where we needed to cross in Reynosa, all we could do was wait until they moved on.
Nash left the room over an hour ago, saying he needed to line some things up, but there’s a real possibility he deemed me too much trouble and just took off.
Maybe the phone call he made two days ago was the limit of his willingness to help.
Despite the threat of overwhelming emotion threatening to clog my throat, I know the man doesn’t owe me a damn thing.
Expecting anything from him is misplaced.
The horn blares again, but I refuse to climb off the bed and look out the window. Nash was very adamant that I stay inside and he’d be back shortly to get me. I don’t think he’d find a vehicle and honk for me to come outside and join him.
I try to ignore the insistence that he’s the one out there and if I don’t go, he’ll take off and leave me.
An engine revs before the sound of tires squealing filters into the room. The silence that follows makes me shake even harder.
I’ve been an independent woman for years. Even before my parents died, I did things on my own. I wasn’t exactly the most social person, but I never thought twice about getting things done. I wasn’t scared out of my skin with the thought of looking out a damn window.
My chin trembles when I realize that I’ll never actually be free from Cortez. The things they did to me, the things they made me do, have changed everything about me. The trauma will follow me to the grave, and knowing it makes me hate him even more.
I was a fool for thinking I could just return to my life, maybe get some counseling to work through all of it.
I wipe my eyes with the backs of my hands but I can’t even seem to fake a little bravery right now.
I’m not prone to pity parties and feeling sorry for myself.
I was never afforded the luxury, having so many responsibilities after my parents’ car accident.
Alani was my focus. She’s always been my focus, and now she hates me.
I take a deep, shuddering breath, trying to calm myself. If she’s safe, she can hate me all she wants.
Lost in my own head, I have to clap my hand over my mouth to keep from screaming when the doorknob turns. Standing in the open doorway, Nash watches me as if he’s afraid to get any closer.
“Ayla?”
I attempt one last time to dash the tears from my face with my hands, but realize I’d be better off saving my energy for something I can control, because this clearly isn’t one of them.
“You came back,” I whisper.
“I told you I would,” he says, a hint of irritation in his voice for having doubted him.
Now isn’t the time to explain that my parents said they’d see me after my class. The plan was to meet at one of their favorite restaurants. It was a Tuesday tradition, one that Alani started skipping out on, claiming to be busy with after-school projects.
Before the accident, I was annoyed that she was putting distance between herself and the rest of us. After the accident, I was never more grateful that she wasn’t in the car with them that evening.
“I don’t do well with promises,” I confess.
He nods, just one simple, quick dip of his head as if he completely understands.
“We have to go.”
Instead of questioning his plan or grilling him about where he’s been for the last hour or so, I climb off the bed, not bothering to look back and make sure I didn’t miss anything.
He instructed me to pack everything up, which was only the change of clothes we each have and the small amount of food and water we haven’t consumed yet.
The bag he brought from the market is sitting beside the door. He doesn’t hesitate to lift it up, his huge hand gripping the strap.
Nash points toward a double cab truck idling in the parking lot, but I’m no more enthusiastic to climb inside this one than I was the one Angel was driving. I don’t recognize the man behind the wheel.
“Can we trust him?”
Nash shakes his head. “Probably not.”
I freeze, glaring at him. “Seriously?”
He shrugs. “Just being honest, but I swear I’ll keep you safe.”
I watch as he runs his hand down his shirt, not knowing exactly how to feel when he shows me the handgun tucked into his waistband.
“We’re both going to ride in the back. If he tries any funny shit, I’ll put a bullet in his head.”
It should bother me that Nash would be so quick to kill someone else, but his willingness to do so actually makes me feel a little safer.
“Look at him like an Uber driver or something,” he urges as we walk closer. “We’re paying him for a service. Only if the trip sucks, he ends up dead rather than getting a low review.”
“That’s awful,” I tell him.
“That’s incentive to make sure we’re pleased with the service,” he argues, opening the back door of the SUV so I can climb inside.
The man doesn’t even bother looking back at us as we settle on the back seat, and it makes me wonder if Nash already threatened him before coming back to the room to get me.
He doesn’t reach for my hand as the vehicle pulls away from the motel like he did when we were walking back to the market to get supplies earlier. I think the lack of connection is what makes my mind race with all the possibilities.
I want to believe Nash could protect me, but at the end of the day, he was one of Cortez’s victims too.
I don’t get the vibe from him that he was ignorant to all the terrible things in the world before that happened either.
I don’t think his diligence and ability to spot the bad people, like he pointed out at the market, stemmed from that abduction.
So, if he was aware of what could happen, then why was he taken?
The trembling starts right at the center of me, the unease not taking long at all to make its way to my arms and legs.
“Turn up the heat,” Nash snaps, noticing the way I twist my fingers together.
My jaw aches from trying to keep my teeth from chattering together.
“You okay?” he asks, his lips close enough to my ear that I feel the warmth of his breath on my cheek.
“F-fine,” I stutter, pulling a disbelieving scoff from his lips.
He presses his palm to my leg, his hand running up and down the length of it. I don’t tell him that I’m not actually cold, that it’s fear taking over.
We’re on the road for what seems like forever, but in all honesty, it’s probably just over an hour.
“Almost there,” Nash assures me. Five minutes later, the vehicle turns off the road, the beam of the headlights fading out in front of us.
When we come to a stop, Nash takes the time to look around, his gaze traveling over every window as if he’s expecting an ambush.
“No policía,” the man says without looking back at us.
Before climbing out, Nash places a stack of bills on the console at the man’s elbow. I scramble after him, knowing I may not be completely safe, but I’m safer by his side.
The driver doesn’t hesitate to pull away the second the back passenger door is closed. It leaves us standing in utter darkness.
I blink into the blackness as if my eyes are the problem rather than being in an area devoid of any form of civilization. The moon doesn’t offer much help as it tries to shine from behind the clouds.
Nash crouches, rustling through the bag we brought from the motel room.
“Here,” he says, pressing a flashlight into my hands.
It doesn’t work like I expected when I turn it on. It has a red film over it.
“It’ll help maintain your night vision and it’s difficult to see from a distance. I need you to keep close, and not say a word. This isn’t time for conversation.”
I swallow down a rebuttal, despite my urge to tell him I fucking know this isn’t the time to chat. I blame my nerves on the agitation coursing through my veins.
I understand his explanation about my clothes as we walk, the sound of the slow rolling river guiding us forward.
The brush and vegetation, although dead due to the winter season, still grips and clings to what I’m wearing.
We’d be slowed down even more if I were wearing the baggy clothes Cerberus donated to me.
The water is freezing, but I somehow manage not to make a sound when it laps at my shoes.
Nash grips my hand as we make it to the center of the river, the water up to my breasts, the chatter in my jaw no longer due to fear but the chill.
I feel disgusting and frozen to the bone by the time we reach the other side of the river. I still don’t speak, knowing we aren’t exactly in the clear just yet.
Nash still hasn’t let go of my hand, and I have no plans to pull away from him anytime soon. We don’t make it a hundred yards from the river when headlights shine directly at us.
Nash keeps walking, our arms stretching out, our connection unbroken as I freeze, literally caught in the headlights.
“Now is not the time,” a voice says in the distance.
“It’s Angel,” Nash assures me, but knowing it isn’t border patrol or the militia doesn’t exactly bring any more confidence in my safety.
Angel hates me, and I know that the help we’re receiving is because of his connection to Nash. He’d no doubt drown me in the river if he got the chance.
“Where’s Lauren?” Nash asks once we reach the truck.
“At home, pissed because I wouldn’t let her come,” Angel grumbles. “Gonna hear about it for a week. Get in so I can get back to her.”
Nash opens the back door of the truck, handing over a blanket before wrapping himself in one. Instead of sitting up front with Angel, he climbs in the back with me, a tighter squeeze than the previous vehicle, due to the infant car seat against the far side of the truck.
Nash wraps his arm behind my back, his hands rubbing up and down my arms, as if he’s trying to rid my body of the chill I feel like I’ll have every second, for the rest of my life.
Not much is said as Angel drives, and before long, we’re pulling up to a small house. In the darkness I can tell that we aren’t in the best neighborhood, but we’re not met with any noise as we climb out of the truck.
“Thank you,” I tell Angel instead of arguing and insisting that he drive me to Alani in Lindell.
Angel grunts in return as we climb out of the truck, leaving us standing on the sidewalk as he drives away.
“Let’s get inside,” Nash urges, walking toward a dark house.
I move a little faster when I hear the screech of an angry cat down the block.
I’m second-guessing my choices when the man bends and pulls a key from under the tattered doormat on the porch.
“Why are we here?” I ask once we step inside.
Nash flips a light switch. The single bulb in the middle of the room doesn’t reveal much.
The house is tiny, the kitchen flowing into the small living room that houses a love seat, a single side table and a console table with an outdated television on it. Two doors on the far side must lead to a bathroom and a bedroom. The back door is no more than twenty feet from the front door.
“We both need showers. We need to eat and get some rest. We’ll head to Lindell first thing in the morning.”
I shake my head, disagreeing with his plan from the first word that leaves his mouth.
“I want to go to my sister.”
“Angel sent someone to look after her. She’s safe. I assure you.”
“Nash,” I argue, trying to swallow down the fear when he inches closer.
“Your lips are blue from the river. You’ve barely slept.” He brushes his fingers over my cheek. “You’re going to have to have a very long, very upsetting conversation with your sister. You need more strength than you have for that. I’ll grab the first shower.”
Without another word, he turns around, carrying the overnight bag into the door to the right.
I don’t know if he’s giving me the chance to run or what.
I make sure the front door is locked, moving the love seat in front of it before moving the tiny kitchen table in front of the back door. I’m well aware that all I’m doing is creating a false sense of security, but it does calm my nerves a little.
While he’s in the bathroom, I explore the other room.
A small dresser, an empty closet, and a queen-sized bed are all that complete the room. The linens on the bed look clean, but there are no personal affects to be found.
Nash finds me standing in the bedroom doorway when he’s done with his shower.
As much as I want to go to Alani, I know he’s right about getting clean and getting some rest.
My shower is quick, the masculine scent of the bodywash and shampoo making my stomach turn. It’s all we were offered back at the compound. I know it’s a petty thing to concentrate on while there are so many other things that need my focus.
For all the house is lacking, there are actually two towels hanging on the towel rack. I use the one Nash didn’t use to dry myself, before pulling the baggy clothes Cerberus provided out of the overnight bag.
When I’m dressed, I find Nash already in the bed.
“Don’t overthink it,” he says, holding the blanket open for me to climb in with him.
I don’t waste a second climbing under the covers.