CHAPTER 7 GABRIELLA
GAbrIELLA
Gabriella couldn’t believe her eyes.
Every instinct screamed that this had to be a nightmare and she’d wake up on the beach, still watching the turtles crawl up from the surf under the moonlight. But the smell of diesel and sweat was real, along with the hum of engines and shouted orders slicing through the humid air.
She was neck-deep in a poachers’ camp. And the man she had trusted, the man she had laughed with under the stars and shared field notes with, was now pacing through the shadows of that same camp, unearthing secrets he’d kept buried from her.
How long had Mateo been with them? How many nights had he smiled at her while lying through his teeth?
As she watched Mateo from her place on the crude brush craft bed made of vines and tattered blankets, Gabriella heard the rhythm of departure.
The camp was being dismantled hastily. She could hear the zipping of plastic being cut or torn, the hiss of fires being doused, and the unmistakable sounds of wood meeting wood from what she assumed was crates being loaded onto trucks. They were leaving.
Her chest tightened. She didn’t know where they were going next, only that the speed of their retreat meant one thing … they were disappearing. And that meant it would be harder for her to be found.
She tried to speak, but Mateo’s sharp look silenced her instantly. He didn’t say a word, only pressed a finger to his lips and shook his head once, quick and deliberate.
Why are you listening to him? She had begun to question her choices more and more as she spent time with Mateo. Was this what Stockholm syndrome felt like? It seemed impossible as it had hardly been a few hours, but she wasn’t a psychology major.
Despite everything … despite the betrayal, the lies, the ropes that had cut into her wrists, she couldn’t deny the flicker of relief when he’d pulled her away from the others earlier.
Especially from the man who had leered at her.
His stare had burned into her skin, the kind of look that made her stomach churn.
Even the short walk from the jeep to the tent had been unbearable. She’d felt the eyes of half the camp on her, calculating and predatory. Like they were hungry for something that remained unspoken.
She sat rigidly as Mateo moved around the insufferably small tent.
She tried not to stare at his sweat-slicked muscles, the way his ass flexed in his pants, nor the veins in his forearms as he efficiently moved items. She shouldn’t want to watch him, but he had carved a special place inside of her … a place she resented.
Which all came crashing down when he had promised to keep her safe with his own life.
More Spanish danced behind her and she felt isolated, surrounded by men who barely spoke English, similar to her own limitations with Spanish.
Mateo would essentially be her translator for when he felt it necessary, and that only added to the ominous array of emotions that screamed to burst from within her.
He was familiar and unknown all at once, her only solace in this horrific situation.
The hair on the nape of her neck rose as the flap of the tent rustled and the same portly man from before stepped inside.
She had caught his name to be José, and the air seemed to thicken with his entrance.
His grin was oily and vile, his eyes flicking over Gabriella with ownership that made her skin crawl.
It was the same way Justin used to look at her.
He said something to Mateo in rapid Spanish, his tone mocking. She didn’t understand much, and she regretted never learning more of the language, but one word cut through the rest: Panamá.
Her heart stuttered. She knew enough geography to assume that was where they were headed next.
Mateo’s face barely changed, but his jaw tightened as he thanked the man.
A few more phrases and José nodded her way.
Mateo’s grip on the small bag he had procured from one of the crates turned his knuckles white as he let off a staccato of Spanish.
Whatever had been said between them, it wasn’t good.
José sneered, said something else that made Mateo’s whole body tense, and then left the tent laughing under his breath.
Mateo stood there, his jaw ticking and a vein on his temple pounding with the tempo of his heart. Even in their silence, his anger pressed on her, threatening to suffocate her. She made to reach for him with her bound hands, her fingers brushing against his.
He startled, looking down to her, and she felt everything stop. His eyes were pained, creased with worry once more. She couldn’t help the cascade of warmth that seemed to start at her fingertips as she brought his hand more into hers, squeezing gently in comfort.
It’s going to be okay, she wanted to say, not really understanding why it felt so important at that moment.
Whatever he saw on her face, she watched with rapt fascination as his broad shoulders dropped, as if the weight he had been carrying was temporarily gone. He lifted her bound hands to his face, eyes still trained on hers, and placed the lightest of kisses to her knuckles. “I’m sorry.”
Gabriella’s heart threatened to burst from her chest. How desperately she wished the gag wasn’t in her mouth.
But why Mateo? You’re the one who forced me here. Her chest constricted with conflicting emotions, and yet they both stood, isolated in their moment of betrayal and comfort. Whatever was to come, she saw the remorse in his eyes at the unspoken words.
But was it enough? No. Just like her, he bore his own demons. But it did not excuse his actions.
Mateo released his hands, his expression going blank, replaced with the mask she had become familiar with tonight. “Let’s go,” he said, voice rough.
She hesitated before remembering that he was the closest thing to safety she would find in this place. She started to stand, and he gripped her elbow to lift her to her feet. She stumbled to keep pace with him as they stepped out into the chaotic remains of the camp.
It was almost gone already. Nearly everything she’d seen of their operation when they’d arrived only an hour ago had already been broken down, packed, and loaded up.
Trucks and boats lined the narrow dirt path that led to the river.
Men moved in perfect rhythm, loading crates, covering tire tracks, burning whatever they couldn’t carry.
She marveled through a haze of terror. She hadn’t realized how dangerous these men were until she stood surrounded by them, until she saw the glint of rifles and the calm, efficient brutality of their movements.
This wasn’t chaos. This was military precision.
Whoever these people were, they operated like soldiers.
Ruthless and efficient soldiers. But she could sense an unease within them too.
Her stomach sank as she realized what that meant. They could disappear without a trace, and so could she.
Mateo led her back towards the jeep, where José was already leaning against the door, his rifle slung across his back and a grin plastered on his face. The air between the two men crackled with tension.
Without a word, Mateo opened the back of the jeep and gestured for her to get in.
When she hesitated, his eyes flicked towards José, whose smirk widened.
Her heart took off at the unspoken words between them.
So if I act up, does that mean José gets me?
That thought was all it took, and she climbed in without protest.
He tied her wrists again, though this time the knots were much looser.
She could easily escape and it felt more for show.
Was he trying to be nice? Even so, it didn't make sense.
Mateo didn't intend to let her go, so these small concessions were pointless.
Why even tie her in ropes if they were so loose they were barely effective?
Surely, he didn't believe her to be brave or daring enough to jump from a moving vehicle? He had to be aware that she knew she wasn’t resourceful enough to survive in the jungle alone.
She knew there was no way out of this situation without him—not alive at least.
He trusts you to stay put with or without the ropes, but nobody else does. Especially that repugnant José. The realization dropped like a stone in her stomach.
The closing of the door was the final nail in her coffin, and her world narrowed to the sound of her heart beating against her ribs. What was it Liam Neeson said? Don't let them take you to a second location? Well, she was certainly past that point.
José climbed into the passenger seat, humming under his breath as if they were going on a joyride instead of transporting a hostage.
Mateo slid behind the wheel, started the engine, and the jeep lurched forward, wheels crunching over roots and debris.
The camp disappeared behind them, leaving nothing but smoke and footprints.
Gabriella leaned her head back against the cold metal frame, eyes burning, wrists sore. She had no voice, no plan, no power.
For now, she was at their mercy.