Chapter 45
I’m wrenched from sleep by a burning against my wrists. I react before even opening my eyes, flinching away violently. Metal clangs. My hands jolt then slam back against the heat.
My eyes bolt open. Sunlight has me squinting to see white bars and a cage inches from my face. That’s the burning—my wrists are tied to white metal that’s been heated by the sun. I separate my hands, as much as I can, so that my tied wrists no longer press against the steel.
I lift my head but am so weak my skull slaps back against concrete. Pain radiates through me, and I’m suddenly fully awake. Dire facts shoot into my mind like bullets from a gun.
I was taken from the gym. I’m tied up. I’m outside. I’m in pain. I have to pee. There’s a buzzing sound loud and close by.
I know that sound: HVAC.
Rolling my head, the towering equipment comes into focus. Large metal structures. Winding rolls of pipes, whirring fans, and generators.
A shiver of terror rockets down my aching body. I’m on the roof of La Vida Buena. Tied to a cage around part of the new electrical and vent system. It’s louder and more powerful than the old one. And more dangerous. Which is why Mateo insisted, in addition to an authorized key fob, there be a code needed to access the roof. Yes, I carry an authorized key fob, but who could’ve gotten the code?
Whoever it was, they wouldn’t have done it because of the show. I’m no longer on the show. But someone has kidnapped me.
I whisper a prayer to God, or try to, and a final desperate reality surfaces. I’m gagged. Secured by tape over my lips, there’s a rag fisted against my dry tongue and my aching teeth. The lingering hint of wood cleaner curdles my tastebuds. I close my eyes tight. A knife of fear slides down my body.
Panic, as real as any animal, scratches at my nerves, clawing at my thoughts. I’m trapped up here. I can’t scream. I can barely breathe. I need to get out. I need to…
Frantic, I tug and pull against the bars with my roped hands, headless of the burning. The metal clangs with each jerk of my arms. My muscles strain, shoulders ache. The vibrations send pain ripping up from my ribs. Tears flood my eyes. The rope tightens, biting my skin like teeth, swelling my throbbing wrists with blood.
I don’t stop until I can no longer catch a full breath. I droop with exhaustion. My heart beats so loudly that it joins with the pounding in my head, until I’m no longer certain where the thump, thump, thump originates from.
I’ve only made things worse. Nausea rises up my throat and tears run down my face. I have to… to calm down. If I don’t calm down, I’ll vomit. I’ll choke on my own vomit.
Air whistles through my nose as I fight to breathe air thick with the stench of tar and oil.
Focus, Yolanda.Focus on taking deep breaths. Focus on family. Focus on… Easton. Hug incoming. Why did I send my security detail away? What was I thinking?
I was thinking that I could stop worrying about the other contestants.
Estupido.
Shh. That’s not helping. Breathe. Slowly. Deeply.
Someone must be looking for me. Sí. Yes. Someone is looking. They have to be.
This thought helps to calm me. Nostrils flaring, I breathe in then out. The whistling through my nose quiets. The pounding of my heart slows.
Mateo would know something was up when Liza didn’t show for class this morning. Unless he assumed she flaked. In that case, he’d lead the class himself. He wouldn’t want to bother me after last night’s loss.
But what of Titi and Tío Manuel? This morning, they might have assumed I’m nursing my wounds, but they know me well enough to know I wouldn’t leave them in a lurch, not the whole day. ?Qué hora es?
The sun is lowering, so it must be late afternoon. Someone is looking for me. But what are the chances they’ll look here?
Very low.
I need to figure a way out. Starting with getting this thing out of my mouth, so I can try to bite the ropes. I force my tongue against the gritty cloth. The duct tape drags painfully at my skin, but I think that means it’s working. I press harder then freeze when someone says, “Your hands are turning purple.”
I jolt at the voice. Sharp pain slashes up my ribs, blinding me for a moment to anything else. Slowly, I fight past the hot tears.
Blinking, I finally see her. Kay Lee?
Wearing cutoff jean shorts, her now famous pink Stetson, and cowboy boots, Kay Lee saunters over.
For a flash, a single breath, relief washes through me. Then I realize that she’s not asking why I’m here, is up here without permission, and is, in fact, rather calm.
Squatting beside me, she begins to work at the knot on my wrists by sliding a thin piece of metal through the tight strands. “Those rope marks might cause a problem with making it look like you killed yourself.”
Killed myself? My head swims. Shock paralyzes my muscles. I stare at her, at the setting sun shining against the half of her delicate face. The other half darkened by the shadows created by the equipment.
The knot loosens. Blood rushes painfully back into my hands. My brain catches up. Ay. Díos. She intends to murder me? Anger wars with fear, both send my heart skyrocketing. I kick out at her, trying to hurt her, stop her in some way.
She jumps up and back, tsking between her pearly white teeth. “Poor thing. You look like hell.”
Because you drugged me and placed me next to burning mechanical equipment! Something I would love to scream at her, but all I can manage is a muffled and incomprehensible curse.
Leaning over me, so that she’s no longer by my feet, she creates enough slack in in a rope long enough to hog tie me then grabs my shirt, tugs me up, then swings me to sitting.
In this position, I can’t kick her. I need my legs to keep me from falling over. With my legs tucked, my right arm leans heavily against the hot metal. Ouch. I shift forward. My ribs scream. My stomach rolls.
“Maybe we should drug her again,” another, familiar voice says.
My pulse skitters. Disbelief drags down my heart. No. No. I lift my head to Néstor.
Tears of rage and frustration slide down my face. What is happening? Why are they doing this?
Néstor’s face pales. Wringing his hands, he looks like I feel, ready to vomit. He looks down guiltily and his black-framed glasses slide to the tip of his nose.
“Don’t be stupid,” Kay Lee says. “She needs to work the stuff out of her system, before she confesses.”
Confesses to what?
Néstor clears his throat. “I don’t want any part of this. You said I can go when your cousin gets here. Where is she?”
“Chillax,” Kay Lee says, tipping back her hat, which sends her hair swinging against her shoulders. “If you didn’t want to be blackmailed into helping me, you shouldn’t have cheated to get your boyfriend on the show.”
Néstor’s head snaps up. “Fonzie made the show on his own. Unlike you. He’s good.”
“So you poisoned Yolanda, slashed her tires, and broke her shoe for the fun of it?”
Eyes widening, Néstor looks directly at me. “I didn’t.”
Kay Lee laughs then gasps dramatically, covering her shocked mouth with a French tipped hand. “Spoiler alert, Yolanda, Eli’s helping me to bring you and East to justice. He took the blame for the issue with the hotel dates, helped move the show to La Vida, and changed the results of last night’s show.”
“What do you mean he changed the results of last night’s show?” A stunning woman appears from between the equipment holding a gun. Also, wearing high heels and a black leather jumper zipped up the middle—cat-woman style.
Even if she weren’t in that ridiculous outfit, even if I didn’t recognize her from online— sleek dark hair and almond-shaped brown eyes—even if Kay Lee didn’t shout, “Cecily,” before running over to hug the woman, I’d have known Cecily Wallace from the unflinching arrogance she wears like a crown. This is the woman who lied to Easton and cheated charities.
Their difference in height means Easton’s ex has to bend over to embrace Kay Lee, but the beautiful Cecily barely touches her before pulling away.
“Answer me, Kay-Kay, what do you mean he changed the results?”
Kay Lee frowns. “What does it matter? It’s not like she’ll be around to compete on the show. Plus, it gives me a shot at winning.”
“It matters,” Cecily bites out, “because, if it’s discovered that the results were tampered with, it risks making her confession to being another woman Easton used as a patsy to steal from his company seem convenient. That jeopardizes our larger goal of revealing to the world who Easton Blake really is.”
“It doesn’t. That’s the best part. It’ll make her look even more despondent after losing. That’s why she confesses. Paul agre—Ouch!”
Cecily grabs Kay Lee’s arm and roughly pulls her around the equipment so I can no longer see or hear them.
Néstor’s eyes widen with terror.
I tip my chin up, trying to get his attention.
He looks at me, then his gaze darts away.
I toss my head back, and hit my head on the hot metal cage—pain vibrates through my already pounding skull—but I gain his attention again.
I’m sorry, he mouths, pushing up his glasses.
I shake my head vigorously, nod down at my hands. He’s not a murderer. He’s already said he wants to stop this. I widen my eyes, begging in the only way I can for him to help me.
With a darting glance to where Kay Lee and Cecily have disappeared, he comes over.
I muffle-moan around the rag.
He easily tugs off the tape as a searing pain pulses along the skin around my mouth. He pulls out the rag.
I work moisture into my dry throat and drag in my first full breath in what feels like forever. My lungs shudder in relief. “Distract them,” I croak, bending to bite the knot around my wrists.
“Oh, Yolanda,” he says, and, with shaking hands begins to untie me. “I think they’re going to kill us both.”
My blood freezes. This is madness. “They’re framing me and Easton. Do you know how?”
Tears wash down his face. “They moved money into your business account.”
Ay, Díos. They would’ve had our routing numbers after FTW made the switch to La Vida. “They organized that mess-up with the hotels?”
“Yes. Someone high up at FTW is helping Cecily frame Easton so it looks like he’s the one stealing from the company, funneling it through the business of an old flame.”
His eyes dart to me when he says, “old flame,” and my stomach drops. I don’t ask how Cecily knew about me. After three years with Easton, I assume I’d come up at some time. But… “How did they know I’d be on the show?”
“They didn’t. Moving the show to your hotel was the plan. You getting on the show was a surprise to them. That’s why they wanted me to do all those things to scare you off the show. They didn’t want you to have any kind of celebrity reputation, anything that would make the police look harder at your…”
He doesn’t say suicide.
Bile rises in my throat. “Why are you’re helping them?”
“I was forced.” He bites out the words. His face collapses in grief and shame. “I greenlighted Fonzie’s application. We’ve been dating for two years. Technically…”
“He shouldn’t be on the show.”
“Yes. Cecily, through her FTW contact, had access to all the applications and employee histories. They were looking for a way inside the show and found it when they hired a PI to double-check applicants against employees. At first, they only insisted I help Kay Lee get on the show.”
“She didn’t win at trials?”
He rolls his eyes. “She replaced the winning contestant who broke an arm and leg in a car accident and had to drop out.”
Mierda. “Did they set up the accident?”
“I don’t know.” He sniffles. Snot and tears run down his trembling lips. “They threatened to expose me if I didn’t move Kay Lee’s application to the top of Parker’s replacement pile. Parker’s had a tough year. It didn’t take much to get it past her.” His fingers bleed as he frantically pulls apart the thick twine. His glasses slip far down his nose, but he doesn’t stop. “I was desperate after they threatened to expose Fonzie. I couldn’t let that happen.
“I thought it would be simple. I’d help Kay Lee get on the show and that would be that. I knew she’d never win, so what did it matter? I didn’t understand until I met Kay Lee what they were all about.” He looks up at me. “Kay Lee’s big on sharing.”
Big on sharing? Now that I think about it, I rarely saw him and Kay Lee together. They kept their distance, at least in public. “Kay Lee had you poison me, slash my tires, and break my heel?”
His teary eyes widen over his glasses. “It wasn’t poison. I told them I wouldn’t do anything like that. And they said it would only make you a little sick.”
I nearly gag as I realize he put something into my water though he had no idea what it was.
“I didn’t think it would make you that sick. I was going to come clean after they found out about the vote tampering.”
Vote tampering? I can’t even. “Does Fonzie know?”
He shoves his glasses up with the back of a shaking hand. “I would never involve him in this.”
“What about the blackmail photos?”
“Blackmail?”
The rope gives way a little. The click of a gun being cocked draws our attention to where Cecily and Kay Lee stand.
Néstor gets to his feet, somewhat blocking their view of me. He holds out his arms. “Leave her alone.”
“It’s much too late to play hero,” Cecily says.
There’s a pop.
Blood splatters across me.
Néstor drops to the ground.