Chapter 38 Ella
ELLA
My body feels heavy, as if it’s been compressed beneath the weight of something I can’t actually feel, but that something holds me down anyway.
My eyes flutter. My fingers twitch. I can’t connect my mind to my body to force it do what I want it to, and it’s frustrating bordering on maddening.
Before I can fight the exhaustion inside me, I fall back down into oblivion.
At some point later, I hear low murmurs of voices I faintly recognize. I’m jostled and carried, but I can’t form the questions to ask where I am or what’s going on. And again, I slip into darkness before I can find answers.
Finally, after what feels like too much time and no time at all, my eyes manage to open.
They’re so heavy it takes all my concentration to force them to stay that way.
My mouth is raw and dry, my lips are chapped, and I’m so thirsty it’s almost painful.
Slowly, I push myself to sitting. It takes my brain too long to register my surroundings, and then a moment longer to believe them.
I rub my heavy eyes and look around again.
The room I’m in is light and airy, lined with large windows, cream colored furniture, and wooden accents throughout.
But what I see outside the windows is what has me shaking my head in disbelief.
Outside is a tropical paradise of lush green plants and vibrant flowers in all shapes and colors.
I would think myself crazy if I wasn’t certain I was hearing the twittering of exotic birds and breathing in warm, humid air.
Where the hell am I?
I slide out of bed and wobble on shaking legs as I head out of the bedroom.
I find myself in an indoor-outdoor loft area with a large balcony overlooking a literal tropical forest. There is a hammock in one corner of the loft and an indoor-outdoor tub sits in another.
There is a sitting area in the center, and a bar against the wall across from the couch.
I cross the loft to a staircase on the other side.
The answers I need are obviously downstairs, so I hold tight to the railing, and head downstairs on shaking, weak legs.
The bottom of the staircase opens to a large kitchen and living room, and seated at the dining room table playing cards, are Flores and Jenkins.
“Oh, you’re awake,” Flores says in surprise. She’s ditched her typical navy suit and wears a white button-down blouse and tan suit pants. Jenkins is the same, although both still have their holsters with guns strapped to either side of their torsos.
“Where the hell are we?” I demand, my voice hoarse.
“I’m afraid we can’t tell you,” Jenkins says, looking uncomfortable.
“You’d better rethink that answer, Jenkins.”
He sighs. “I’m sorry, Ms. Hale. But we really can’t tell you.”
“Then answer this: what are we doing here?”
“Keeping you safe and out of the action,” Flores says.
“How long are we going to be here?”
“As long as it takes.”
Anger burns through me. “I was drugged and brought here against my will. Stop with the vague answers and give me some real fucking information.” I know my anger is misplaced, I know this is all Asher’s doing, but I can’t help it.
Now Flores sighs. “We’ve been ordered to only give you so much.”
“Why?”
“To keep you safe.”
“What—” I don’t finish my question as I sway on my feet, a dizzy spell hitting me hard.
“Let’s get you seated,” Flores says, standing and hurrying over to me.
She helps me to the table, and I plop down into a seat.
“Would the lady like some food?” an older woman with tanned skin and gray hair asks, walking with a limp into the kitchen. “The lady must be hungry. She has been sleeping for many hours.” She sets a glass of water down in front of me.
I snatch it up and drink the entire thing in a matter of seconds.
“Yes, dinner would be nice, Camila,” Flores says. “Thank you.”
“Mr. Langford has ordered us to remain in this safe house until he authorizes us to leave,” Jenkins says in a calm, reassuring tone. “He is taking care of the problems back home with his brothers, but he couldn’t do that with you and your safety as a constant distraction.”
“I’m a distraction?” I growl.
“When he’s constantly worried that you’re going to be taken hostage or killed, you are.”
“So, where are we?”
“Somewhere in South America.”
“That’s helpful.”
“That’s all the information we can give you. There is no internet for you to use, and no way to trace where we are.”
“What the hell? No internet for me to use? But there is internet for someone else to use?”
“Jenkins and I have to stay connected, but for your safety, you’re not.”
“For my safety? What the hell am I going to do with the internet to jeopardize my safety?”
“If you’re logged on somewhere or contact someone, you could be traced. The Ghost is one of the best hackers in the world, and he’s worked for Sergei and Yegor in the past. We can’t risk him getting a lock on you.”
“This is insane! Where’s my phone?”
“You won’t need it while you’re here.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? You can’t just take my phone from me!”
“We already did.”
“I want it back!”
“You’ll get it back when we go back to New York.”
“Motherfucker,” I hiss. “So, I’m in what, like, a tropical prison for the foreseeable future?”
Jenkins grimaces. “Basically.” His face morphs, trying for a hopeful expression. “But it’s a very nice tropical prison.”
I roll my eyes.
“And no one knows we’re here.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Except Camila and Asher, no,” Flores responds.
“Has Asher contacted my mother, my coworkers? I know I wasn’t working much lately, but people are going to ask questions if I just disappear.”
“He’s contacted them. The story is that you’re on a much-needed tropical vacation and Asher works in New York Monday through Friday and joins you here on the weekends.”
“Is Asher going to fly here on the weekends?”
“No,” Jenkins answers. “It was risky enough taking the jet to the next country over and driving our way here. We can’t leave any trails.”
“We flew to a different country and then drove here? How long have I been asleep?”
“Two days.”
“What the hell?” I glance down at my hand and notice a bandage on the back. I rip the bandage off to find a tiny red scab. “Did I have an IV with drugs to keep me asleep?”
Now Flores looks uneasy. “The IV also kept you hydrated and nourished with vitamins.”
“You fucking assholes!”
“Mr. Langford is the one who arranged it. We just carted you here.”
“Why didn’t he just ask me to leave? Why drug me?”
“Would you have complied?” Jenkins asks. When I don’t answer, he gives a small, self-satisfied smile. “You would have refused. This was the only way.”
Damn Asher and his act now and ask for permission later ways. “I’m going to kill him.”
Flores snorts. “Good luck with that.”
“And you two are okay with this? You agreed to this?”
“It’s not our place to agree or disagree. This is our assignment,” Jenkins says.
“And this really is to keep you safe,” Flores adds. “Now you’re out of harm’s way until Asher settles everything.”
“I want to speak to him.”
“Can’t just yet. He’ll contact us first. Although I did text him to let him know you’re awake. He’s relieved, by the way.”
“Relieved? That prick. You know what? Actually, I don’t want to talk to him. Why don’t you text him and tell him I said he can go fuck himself.”
Jenkins chuckles as Camila sets a bowl of some kind of potato soup in front of me. I eat it and then a second helping, famished, as Flores and Jenkins give me more useless information. It’s all I can do not to stab either of them with my butter knife.
After dinner, I walk through the house, taking everything in.
If I was here with Asher on a vacation and he hadn’t drugged me and flown me across the world without my permission, I might be able to appreciate how stunning the property is.
The house is large, but not massive, and is beautifully decorated.
The grounds are a tropical paradise with a pool and a small lawn out back.
Beyond the normal rooms for a house, there’s a gym, a sauna, a small library, a theater room, and a game room.
Not to mention the loft upstairs that’s an indoor/outdoor haven.
I couldn’t ask to be in a more beautiful environment if I have to be stuck somewhere for an extended period, but I’m beyond pissed that I’m here.
And I’m furious that Asher made that decision for me without my consent.
If I didn’t love him, I’d want to strangle him.
Even loving him, I still kind of do.
After my tour, my body is heavy and tired again, still working through the drugs in my system. I’m just about to go lie down when Jenkins’ phone rings.
“It’s Asher,” he says, passing me the phone.
I practically rip it out of his hands. “How dare you do this to me,” I hiss as soon as I bring the phone to my ear. It seems the dinner, a house tour, and the three hours it’s been since I woke have done nothing to quell my rage.
“I’m sorry, Ella. It was necessary.”
“Says who?” I huff, walking up the stairs to my bedroom for privacy.
“Says me.”
“You don’t get to make these kinds of decisions for me, Asher! That is not how relationships work!”
“I told you I would do anything to keep you safe. I meant it.”
“Drugging me and shipping me across the goddamn globe like a human package is a little over the line, don’t you think?”
“You weren’t shipped. You flew on a private plane. With two bodyguards. And a flight attendant that doubled as a nurse.”
If I weren’t so mad, I would smirk at his sarcasm. Under normal circumstances I would give him those concessions. Under normal circumstances I don’t overly mind his possessive ways. But this time, he went too far.
“You arrogant asshole. Like any of that justifies your actions.”
“When it comes to keeping you safe, nothing is over the line.”
“Yes, Asher. Some things are over the line. This was over the line!”
“I’d do it again if it means keeping you safe.”