Chapter 4

Where was he taking me? I wanted to ask him questions, but I did not think he would be in the mood to give me answers.

I turned my head slightly to the right to observe him. He was a tall, built man with golden skin, a bit darker than mine. I stared at his strong jaw for a minute, trying to decipher some emotion. I could tell he was furrowing his brows and was very focused on the mission at hand, getting to the next location as soon as possible.

I closed my eyes again. There was no point in torturing myself, trying to find answers to questions only he could answer but surely wouldn't. The sun was still coming in full force, warming my body. The warmth provided some solace, distracting me from what had the potential to be the end of my life as I knew it.

We were no longer on a straight road, I gathered, since the car slowed down, and I could now feel bumps and curves. As I painfully lifted my body to peek out the window, I noticed we were driving on a very narrow street bordered by very tall trees behind which the sun was starting to hide. It felt like we were going up a hill.

A few minutes later, the car came to a halt.

"Don't move," he ordered as he turned around to look at me.

I did not answer and just stared at my kidnapper. He must have taken my silence as an agreement because he got out of the car. I could hear him chatting with another man.

"Llevatela al cuarto," I heard him order.

They were about to put me in some room again, and panic started coursing through my veins. Before I could do anything, someone opened the door behind me and put a bag over my head.

I started fighting my aggressor as he dragged me out of the car. But I had to catch myself as he pulled me to my feet.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you," threatened the voice of the man who drove us here.

I let out a whimper, unable to hide my fear any longer. I heard him sigh, he sounded a bit closer to me. I felt him untying the cord around my feet.

"Behave and nothing will happen to you," he explained in a deep but calmer voice.

He was right. I had lost the battle today, and I could only hope my failed escape didn't put me in a worse situation than I was in before. Someone grabbed my right arm.

"Ven," said the person.

This time, I followed without a fight. It wasn't worth it.

I could hear doors open and close. It felt like we had been walking and turning through various corridors for a few minutes before my tour guide and I came to a halt. He pushed me in a room and untied my hands. I heard him close the door behind me.

I cursed and angrily took the bag off my head.

I found myself in a small bedroom. It was simple, but at least it was clean. There was a small bed in the middle with two dark oak nightstands on either side. The mattress had no sheets or pillows. A full-length mirror was leaning on the wall across from the bed. There was a small chandelier in the middle of the ceiling, the only source of light since it was a windowless room, and there were no lamps.

The space did not really look like a bedroom that was in use. It would be hard not to get claustrophobic in this room. It was so far the smallest space my kidnappers had put me in, but at least it smelled good and there was light.

Someone knocked on the door.

"Yes?" I answered, confused.

I heard a key in the doorknob, and a short woman with long black hair braided all the way down her back entered, carrying a tray with food and water on it. She immediately closed the door behind her and stood in silence, staring at me.

I was a mess. She looked at my dirty hair matted to my face, my dress ripped and covered in dirt, and my feet dark with dust and mud. I knew I looked a little rough, but I didn't realize how much until this moment. I likely didn't smell great either. The longer she stared at me in clear disgust, the more I realized how bad I must look.

"Ay dios, pero que te hicieron?" she inquired.

I didn't answer. They kidnapped me—that's what they did to me. The answer was obvious.

The woman put the tray down on the bed.

"You want to shower?" she asked in English, with a heavy accent. I could not utter a word. I just started crying.

"Ay, no llores. Come, come. Let me take you to the shower."

She grabbed my dirty hand and opened the door. She took me down a very short hallway and opened the only other door just a few steps away. She pushed me in very quickly.

"Be fast, and don't try anything, please. They are everywhere," she said as she closed the door.

"Thank you so much. What is your name?"

"De nada, se?orita. I am Dolores. I will be waiting here for you. Please, rapido!" Dolores closed the door behind her.

I was touched by Dolores's kindness. This woman did not know me and yet seemed to have taken my well-being to heart. She also seemed scared, probably of the brute who drove me to this house and seemed to be ordering everyone around.

The bathroom was very simple. There was a small but well-lit white square sink with a nice size mirror above it. The shower was a walk-in. When I opened the sink cabinet, I found some toiletries. Who thought I would feel such happiness at finding some toothpaste and a toothbrush?

I also found a few towels as well as some body wash and shampoo. I started to brush my teeth with the same enthusiasm children show for chocolate.

I could see my pale, dirty, and bony reflection in the mirror, my face covered with dust with streaks of tears going through whatever was left of my foundation. The mascara from days ago emphasized the dark circles under my eyes. My dress was a lost cause.

I remembered that Dolores was waiting for me outside, very nervous. There was no time to waste. I undressed myself and got into the shower. The feeling of the clean, warm water penetrating my hair, running down my face and the rest of my sore body was invigorating. I could not get enough of the shampoo and the soap. I washed myself thoroughly, but I still felt the need to do it once more, as if that would erase this nightmare I was living. It still didn't feel like enough.

Once done, I proceeded to dry my hair and body with a towel. Now with my skin clean, I could see the bruises on my face, hips, arms, and wrists more clearly. I ignored them and wrapped myself in a soft towel. There was no way I was going to put back on that dirty, ripped dress.

I timidly opened the door. Dolores had a look of relief on her face. She saw that I was holding the towel around me and, thankfully, understood my predicament. She took me by the hand and quickly guided me back to the room.

"Stay here. I'll be right back," instructed Dolores.

I did as I was told, but of course, Dolores locked the door with a key behind her. I sat on the bed, feeling my body both numb and in pain at the same time, in dire need of rest, but my mind couldn't stop. My life was in danger, after all. I forced myself to lie down on the mattress, even if just to stare at the ceiling.

Ten minutes later, Dolores was back with a pile of clothes in her hands. She closed the door behind her and set the clothes down on the bed.

"Here you go: clothes, some underwear, a comb for your hair, lotion, deodorant, and also, sandals and bed sheets."

I could not believe my eyes. In tears, I got up and hugged her. Dolores hugged me back for a second and then took a step back. She looked at me with what seemed like understanding and sadness.

"I have to go now," she said, and then she left, locking the door behind her again.

I started going through the pile of clothes. There was one yellow dress with thin straps that was simple and delicately embroidered along the bottom. There was also a set of gray female gym clothes.

I had no idea where Dolores could have found these gems, but I was very thankful for them. I used all the lotion my body craved and put on the gym clothes. They would be handier if I decided—or rather, was presented with the opportunity—to try to escape again. I combed through my wet and now very curly hair and braided it in place. Much better, I concluded as I stood in front of the mirror.

My small figure looked well protected in gym clothes. My face was still bony, but at least it was clean. I stored the rest of the things in the two nightstand drawers and proceeded to make the bed. There were now clean sheets sitting on the mattress. And they were soft, promising me at least some rest—something I hadn't had in too long.

Thank you, Dolores.

As soon as I was done making the bed, I turned to the plate of food Dolores had left me. It was an amazing quesadilla with a side of rice and beans. I almost swallowed the food whole. It was my first full meal in a week—or at least the first I accepted and devoured. I was enjoying the freshly squeezed orange juice and the very big, cold glass of water.

When I was done, I set the tray down on the floor by the door. Exhaustion was getting the best of me, and I let it. There was no point in thinking right now. I needed all the strength I could muster, to be ready for what was to come—whatever that would be. I got in the bed and fell asleep as soon as my head touched the pillow.

When I woke up the next morning, I felt very rested but . It took me a few minutes to remember the events of the day before. As I got off the bed, I noticed that the plate of food was gone. Someone must have come in to take it.

"Hello? Can someone hear me?" I inquired behind the door.

I heard a key turning in the doorknob, so I took a few steps back. Dolores entered with a smile on her face.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes, thank you so much for everything you brought me yesterday. I really needed a shower!"

"Si! And now you need bathroom again?"

"Yes, please. That would be great."

Dolores took my hand in hers, just as she did the day before, and guided me to the bathroom. I was thrilled to get to brush my teeth and shower again. I put the gym clothes back on afterward. As I was combing through my freshly washed curls, the bathroom door was violently opened.

A man who was wearing a mask—likely the same man as before—dragged me out by my left arm. He put a bag on my head and forced me to walk.

"Pero porque tanta violencia!?" cried out Dolores, but he was not bothered and continued to walk fast even as I stumbled.

I tried to resist but to no avail. Finally, he opened a door and shoved me inside.

I heard the door close behind me.

I hurriedly took the bag off my head, finding myself standing in a big office with a thick, impressive oak table in the middle with oak cabinets filled with all sorts of books. The wood floor was half covered by a beige rug. The sun was shining through two very large bay windows across the room, and I could see an immense yard, bordered by trees peeking from behind the see-through white linen drapes. There was a table by the window, with a chess board and a record player.

There was a man standing behind the desk closest to the window, staring outside.

He slowly turned around to face me, and I couldn't help the gasp that escaped me. Facing me was the man who so violently put me into his pickup truck and drove me to this unknown location. He continued to just stare at me, not saying a word, as I could feel the water from my wet hair roll down my neck and back.

I wanted to either scream at him or turn around and try to run away, but I restrained myself and held his gaze with a stoic face instead.

"I hope you find your new accommodations pleasing," he said with a faint smile on his face. I wondered if that was mockery or if he was just a psychopath. Authority seemed to emanate from his every pore.

"Well," I retorted with a hard swallow, "it was quite a low bar, considering I had rats as cellmates before."

"My apologies for that," he said with a slight bend of his head.

When our eyes met, I could have sworn I saw a flicker of amusement flash in his eyes, an eyebrow raised.

He continued to stare at me as he slowly walked toward his desk. He stopped by the corner and leaned his back against it for support, his arms crossed, never taking his eyes off me. His stance seemed like an intimidation technique.

And it was working.

He was wearing a pair of black jeans and a blue shirt with the first two buttons open. I noticed how tall he was again, his shirt tracing his muscles, letting everyone know he was a man to be feared. His tan skin indicated that he spent a lot of time outside in the sun. I got even more irritated as he just stood there, in all his glory, legs opened wide, looking like he owned the world.

I took a deep breath between clenched teeth.

"Who are you, and what do you want from me?" I asked calmly.

"My name is Alejandro," he said.

"I'd say nice to meet you, but I'd be lying."

"And I wouldn't believe you."

I rolled my eyes. "Since it seems like you can only answer one question at a time, let me ask you again, what do you want from me?"

Alejandro got off the desk and started walking slowly toward me, his hands in his pockets. He stopped just a few inches from me. I swallowed hard, fear pouring through my veins, but I had to stand my ground. This asshole was not going to get the satisfaction of seeing me afraid.

"You privileged little brat," he grunted in a deeper voice that sent shivers down my spine. "Let me remind you that you are currently very far from home without anyone to protect you. Tread lightly. I don't accept insolence and have no tolerance for a spoiled, useless woman like you. I suggest you watch your tone when you speak to me."

My hands started to shake, but I quickly hid them in my pockets, doing my best to ignore the adrenaline coursing through me, telling me to run as fast as I could.

Instead, I held his gaze. It wasn't his words that scared me; it was the calm and yet threatening tone that made every hair on my body rise. It was the way he never broke eye contact from the minute he turned around when I walked in the room.

He observed my bruised face and wrists as his jaw clenched and lips got tighter. He looked disgusted by me.

"I need to know—"

"No, you don't," he said, cutting me off. "You don't need to know anything, and I don't owe you any explanation."

I let out an exasperated sigh.

"I have been held in captivity for over a week. I have bruises all over, and I am sore, and I am tired. I deserve to know what you want from me," I explained with a broken voice.

Alejandro backed up a few steps and walked toward his desk.

"You are your father's little pride and joy," he said with disgust. "Let's just hope he does what he has to do so you can get back to your little castle in no time."

There was no point in arguing with him. I knew I wouldn't get anything else out of him. And if he believed that my stepfather was going to do all it took to rescue me, it was my best card, even if I was starting to doubt it myself. If Alejandro or any other person involved believed that Richard wasn't going to help, my life would no longer be of any value to them.

"Are you…are you going to kill me?"

My question was met with silence and indifference.

I swallowed hard but pushed further. "What do you want from him? Money?"

"It"s time for lunch," he said, ignoring my question.

He grabbed his phone and placed a call.

"Dolores, nos sirves la comida en mi despacho por favor? Gracias."

Everyone spoke Spanish in this house. I had no doubt now that I had somehow crossed the frontier to somewhere in Mexico.

Apparently, Alejandro intended to have Dolores bring lunch for the both of us in his office. Was he crazy? He kidnapped me, and now he wanted to, what, break bread with me? Who in their right mind would see this situation as normal?

"We will sit out here to eat our lunch," he announced as he opened one of the glass doors.

I reluctantly followed him out to a gray-stone patio with a nice off-white couch and a rectangular glass dining table with matching chairs. Two place settings were already set out on the table. Outside smelled of rain and freshly cut grass, but the sun was coming out, warming up the air and clearing up the skies.

The patio was big, but the bright-green yard was the size of a park, going all the way into what looked like the beginning of a forest. I could see part of the house as well. I was starting to realize that I was ironically being held captive in the most gorgeous Mexican hacienda I had ever seen.

I was enjoying the feeling of the sun caressing my skin after being away from it for a week. I wanted to scream that I refused to eat with him, but I was so excited to get to sit in the sun and breathe in some fresh air that I decided to swallow my pride and keep quiet. He pulled a chair out for me, and I reluctantly sat down. He took a seat next to me, at the head of the table.

"This is your house?"

"Yes." He raised a brow in my direction, looking annoyed.

"Do you usually use your house to hold people captive?"

He glanced at me. "No, not usually," he answered, leaning back in his chair and facing me.

He moved slowly, almost sensually, the way a panther moves right before it catches its prey. I was terrified, but part of me was fascinated. I considered if I should try to run again and take my chances with the animals in the forest instead.

Dolores walked outside with a big tray. She had a younger woman with her to help set the food on the table. Dolores smiled at me, and I smiled back. Dolores and the other woman put down various plates with chicken, beef, and pork, a good amount of corn and flour tortillas, and all the necessary condiments for fresh homemade tacos. They also set down a water pitcher and an orange juice pitcher.

"Muchas gracias, muchachas. Pueden retirarse."

The ladies immediately walked away with their empty trays.

"Ladies first," said Alejandro, turning to me.

The man spoke both perfect Spanish and perfect English, a slight accent present when he spoke English, but so far only when he was upset. I wanted to ask questions, but really, where he was from wasn't quite relevant to my current situation.

I wanted to pretend I wasn't interested in the food, but I was too hungry to be prideful. I started making myself various tacos and sat back down to devour them. Alejandro proceeded to do the same.

I forgot that I had company as I was enjoying what were, hands down, the best tacos I had ever had. As I was getting ready for my second serving, I noticed Alejandro looking at me, seemingly amused.

"I bet they don't make tacos this good in your little castle," he said.

"No. In my castle, as you call it," I retorted, "we don't eat Mexican food."

"Of course you don't. You and your family are the worst kinds of Mexican immigrants. You assimilate completely and lose all touch with your roots." He gave me a disgusted stare, his eyes dark with judgment.

I realized I might have offended him. He must have misunderstood what I was trying to say. If anything, I hated that Richard had banned what he called "dirty street food" in his house. But I did not owe this man any explanation.

"You don't know me," I said. "You know nothing about me, so stop pretending that you do to make yourself feel better about what you are doing to me—and god knows who else."

"I know you. I know your kind." His jaw clenched in warning, but I ignored it.

"My kind? What does that even mean? It's the stupidest—"

"Enough!" he cut me off, his lips tight. "I don't have to explain myself to you."

As I was about to answer him, Dolores stepped in. "Everything okay?" she asked, clearly concerned by the screams she heard when she entered the office.

"Call Juan to take her back to her room. She's done here," ordered Alejandro.

Dolores hesitated, disappointed to see that lunch had taken a turn, but she clearly knew better than to contradict Alejandro.

"And you call me a spoiled brat," I said, standing up, "but you are the one being a jackass the minute someone disagrees with you. You, sir, are a fucking asshole and a criminal!"

Alejandro violently pushed his chair back as he got up, grabbed me by my left arm, and pushed me inside his office.

"I"ve had enough of you and your attitude."

"Then let me go home!" I screamed.

Dolores had already returned with Juan. He was still wearing a mask. He came straight to me, put a bag over my head, grabbed my right arm, and proceeded to take me with him.

I was tired of being the cooperative victim and decided to give him a taste of his own medicine. I stepped on his foot, and he let go of my arm, in pain. As I was lifting the bag past my forehead, Alejandro grabbed me by my upper thighs and lifted me. He put me on his right elbow like I weighed nothing and proceeded to walk. The bag was no longer on my head, but I couldn't see anything since I was upside down. I kicked and screamed.

Alejandro finally opened the bedroom door, walked in, closed the door behind us, and threw me on the bed.

I opened my eyes wide, my pupils dilated with fear, realizing the error of my ways, provoking a criminal like that. And now he was towering over me, mouth open, teeth showing, panting, fury coming out his pores, the room seemingly too small for his presence. I had provoked the beast, and now I was at his mercy. If he decided to rape me or harm me in any other way, there wasn"t a lot I would be able to do to protect myself. My body was shaking, and my eyes were round with fear.

"Insolent brat," he growled as he walked out.

I quickly got up in a futile attempt to try to leave behind him, but he was already out, locking the door.

I screamed in anger and started crying. I was livid. Who did this man think he was? He kidnapped me, insulted me, and somehow expected me to do, what, behave? This brute had no idea who I was, but if he wanted me to be a nice little wallflower that wouldn't talk to keep him happy, he had another thing coming.