CHAPTER 13 GABRIELLA
GAbrIELLA
Being a bitch was far more effective and far more satisfying than Gabriella had expected.
She complained loudly from the back of the jeep, sighing theatrically, kicking the seat in front of her hard enough to be irritating without crossing into dangerous. Every jolt of the road earned another groan, another muttered remark about discomfort, hunger, and heat.
José shifted constantly in the passenger seat.
Good, she thought. Let him stew.
He snapped back at her in Spanish more than once, sharp phrases spat over his shoulder. Mateo answered him each time, his replies calm but edged, the tension between them tightening with every mile.
She was getting under José’s skin, which was perfect.
Better to be hated than desired.
They drove for hours, the jungle gradually thinning, the air changing. Smoke drifted in on the breeze. The smell of animals—livestock, sweat, fire—replaced the damp green rot of the rainforest. Gabriella’s heart began to race.
They were getting closer to a town. Which meant water. Food. Maybe a bed.
Or escape, a voice whispered.
The “town” was little more than a cluster of buildings scattered around a clearing.
Chickens wandered freely, darting between bare feet and rusted tools.
A few cows stood tethered in the shade. The people who emerged were young and old alike—weathered faces, sharp eyes, women with babies on their hips.
This was near Panama. She knew it by the clothing, the cadence of Spanish, the way the land felt drier beneath the wheels.
She wondered briefly how long it would take for them to reach the town with the off chance she could get help.
Assuming she would ever be able to escape.
Or she could stay and trust Mateo's words that he would protect her.
The jeep slowed, and eyes followed them.
Mateo spoke easily as they rolled through, greeting people by name. There was laughter, a few exchanges she couldn’t quite catch. José jumped out, suddenly relaxed, barking orders to the other drivers and motioning them towards cover.
Mateo parked near the edge of the clearing and jumped down to help Gabriella out. Children ran towards him instantly, hands outstretched. He laughed at something a little girl said and, impossibly, reached into the pocket of his tactical pants and pulled out a handful of wrapped candies.
Where had he even been hiding those?
The kids shrieked and scattered, fighting over the sweets as they ran.
Mateo turned back to her and opened the door. “We’re resting here for the day.”
“They won’t turn you in?” she asked warily.
He shook his head. “Half the group is made up of their family. And we bring news.” His mouth twitched. “They’ll give us shelter. And a shower.”
She nearly moaned. “Yes. Please.”
She tried to climb down and promptly wobbled. Mateo caught her without thinking, hands firm at her waist. Solid. Warm. All muscle beneath damp fabric.
“You seem to lose strength in your legs a lot around me. Weak ankles perhaps?” He joked.
Her body responded before her brain could intervene. “Hardly. Your shit driving more likely.”
He chuckled at that, his fingers burning a hole through her clothes.
“Next time you can sit up front. Maybe even in my lap, if you'd like.”
“That doesn't sound safe at all,” she shot back, unwarranted images of her ass pressed against his groin, his fingers exploring her breasts and nipples, twisting and teasing her as she tried to steer.
You don’t know how to drive a stick shift, the logical part of her brain tried to reason. But he'd still make you come regardless, the devil on her shoulder said.
I'm definitely not right in the head.
She straightened quickly, mortified. “They won’t question … me?”
“Not their concern,” he said. “They care if their people are alive.”
A sudden burst of noise cut through the air.
From her vantage point, Gabriella caught sight of a woman running through the wild chickens, breathless and smiling, chestnut curls bouncing wildly around her face.
She was stunning. Dark sun-kissed skin like Mateo’s, full curves, confidence radiating off her.
“?Mateo!”
She launched herself into his arms, grabbing the back of his head and kissing him without hesitation. Something dark and ugly bloomed in Gabriella’s chest.
Mateo pried her off of him as Spanish flew, fast and emotional. Gabriella caught enough to understand the tone with the limited words she knew.
Where were you? Why did it take so long?
Mateo gently disentangled himself, putting distance between them and speaking in English. “Sally, please,” he said calmly. “This is Gabriella. She needs a bath and clothes.”
Sally’s eyes snapped to her, hostile and assessing.
“And who is she?” she asked, her lilted voice lovely despite the disdain.
Mateo took Gabriella’s hand. “She’s my ward. Insurance, if things go wrong. We need her and so does your father, José.”
The words sliced clean and deep as she tried to process his dismissive wave of their relationship and the fact Sally was José’s daughter.
Of course you are nothing to him, taunted Justin’s voice in her head. You’ll always be nothing to him.
Ignoring the hole that opened up beneath her, steel threaded her spine as Gabriella lifted her chin. “I want a bath. Now.”
The sharpness in her voice carried with enough force that Sally blinked, then looked at Mateo. “You let her speak to you like that?”
“She’s been a handful,” he said dryly, with a smirk he didn’t quite hide.
“I said now,” Gabriella snapped louder. “Or I scream.”
Sally’s lips thinned, looking between Mateo and her. Something unspoken passed between them that left claws hooking deep into her chest. He nodded to her and Sally’s shoulders dropped. “Fine. This way.”
As they walked, Gabriella leaned into the role. “It’s filthy here. I hope the bath is clean.”
Sally’s shoulders tensed. “It may not be American luxury, but it is clean. We are not savages.”
“It better be,” Gabriella muttered, guilt pricking her even as she pressed on.
The bath, fed by a warm spring, was bliss. When she emerged, freshly dressed in a flowing skirt and loose cotton top, boots back on and hair braided, she felt human again.
Sally waited outside, clearly displeased at being stuck with her.
“I’m hungry,” Gabriella announced. “I want to eat.”
“So is everyone else,” Sally shot back.
“Well, that’s not my problem,” Gabriella said, and immediately regretted it. How could she sound so cold and dismissive when Sally had admitted people were not eating.
There was a long pause before she tried again. “I might have lost my appetite.”
Before Sally could reply, Mateo stepped into the clearing revealing so much more than what either woman expected. Bare chest. Wet hair. Skin flushed from heat and water.
Gabriella’s breath caught painfully and she heard Sally’s too. But where Gabriella hesitated, Sally did not. She rushed to him, clinging, whispering excitedly in Spanish. Gabriella understood enough.
Stay with me tonight.
Mateo ignored Sally, much to Gabriella’s delight, to look at her instead. “Gabriella, did she show you the hot springs?”
Gabriella hesitated then shook her head. “No, I didn’t realize we were near one.”
“I’ll take you later,” he said easily. “We’re near Volcán El Valle. The town has a small one. Did you eat?”
“No,” she said stiffly. “Sally and I were discussing the food situation in town. She made it seem like there was not enough for everyone.”
He glanced down at Sally, who flushed, then back at Gabriella.
“Ay, tica,” he said with mock resignation. “It’s not as bad as she made it to be … I’ll feed you.”
He gestured her forward, ignoring the trailing puppy dog eyes of Sally. “Let’s go.”
And Gabriella followed—angry, jealous, exhausted—playing her part, even as the lines between survival and something far more dangerous blurred.