Chapter Eighteen

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Elonzo welcomed Emily onto a private jet after the doctor's exam. Emily had a fractured rib, a torn muscle in her lower arm, swelling on two of her disks, and a sprained finger from when she'd tried to defend herself from the beatings. The bruises were what the doctor had called "traumatic contusions" with several hematomas. In other words, she'd had the shit kicked out of her, but she'd live.

The people who'd done this to her were another story.

"I am pleased the doctor said you are free to fly," Elonzo said, gesturing toward a seat beside him in the center of the plane. Several large men in suits were spread out around the cabin in various seats.

"I didn't know the cartel offered free healthcare. I bet the mafia's super jealous."

He laughed. "Well, nothing is free in this life, but we did have a guest die last month during a flight. He had a blood clot after experiencing a rather rigorous workout from a rival. He probably would have lived if we'd had him examined, but he insisted he was well." Elonzo shrugged. "Live and learn."

"Or not?" she muttered.

"Yes, for him, not."

She took a seat, and he ordered drinks from the attendant. Water for Emily. Scotch for him.

"So, are you going to tell me where we're going, or is this part of the week of trust-building at Summer Camp Elonzo?" she asked.

"We are going to my vacation home in Mexico, near the town where I grew up. I think you will be safer there considering the entire world is hunting you."

"And will we be chopping wood, practicing our archery, and singing campfire songs?"

He chuckled. "You must be feeling better today. Your humor has returned."

How would he know? She wasn't the humorous type. "I just love me a good jamboree. Especially in a foreign country where I don't speak the language or know my way around. Makes it easier to accept that there'll be no escape from the fun." Cartel-style fun.

He sat and sipped his scotch. This whole thing made her feel beyond uneasy, but she had to go along. For the time being. She suspected this was all a show meant to get her guard down, confuse her, or terrify the hell out of her.

Truthfully, though? She was well aware that at any moment they could grab her and slit her throat. These were the sorts of men who didn't think twice about decapitating a person or chopping off a hand to send to a loved one. She'd seen the news in El Paso. The violence was enough to make a person lose faith in humanity.

"I sense you are about to ask a question, Emily."

"Nope. You've made it clear I am along for the ride, so I'll leave it to you to talk when you're ready."

"Good," replied Elonzo.

"But can I ask a favor?" she asked. "If you plan to just kill me in the end, would you mind doing it sooner rather than later? I'd appreciate something painless, too, if that's on the menu. A good old-fashioned bullet in the head is fine. And you can spare me the beatings. They just piss me off now."

He gave her a strange look.

"Sorry. It's just that…I really hate my ex, and it just reminds me of him."

"Ah. Ed. The corrupt FBI agent."

"That's the one," she said.

"He used to beat you?" Elonzo asked.

"It was his favorite pastime. That and making money off the women he kidnapped for trafficking."

"I would never dream of beating my Julia. A wife is to be protected, just as one's children are."

She noticed how he'd said nothing about the trafficking. "We're all someone's child."

"And shame on the parents who do not protect them."

Wow. Had he just given a backhanded slap to the parents of all his victims? She bit her tongue. The chances of Elonzo saying, "Hey, you know what? You're right. Forcing people into sexual slavery is wrong. I should stop," were zero.

"Well, at least I don't have to worry about Ed anymore." He was dead or on the run.

Elonzo raised a brow. "So if given the chance, you would have put a bullet in his head?"

"Yes," she replied without thinking about it. "But I might've taken my time with him first. He doesn't deserve a painless death."

"But he is someone's child, Emily. Do you not feel for his parents and their loss?"

Ah. Okay. She saw where this was going. "I do feel for them because he turned out to be a horrible person."

"Yet, we are all loved by someone. Even the worst of us."

And his point?

He added, "To the people who love them, it does not matter whether the person killed is good or bad. It's all the same pain. There is no way around it even if the death is justified in the minds of some."

"So why even care?" Was that his point?

"Not at all. It just shouldn't be a factor—whether a person was loved or not, good or not, innocent or not. The only real reason to end a life is because it is in your best interest." He shrugged.

"To win the game," she concluded.

He nodded.

She couldn't believe he really thought like this. It was like saying executing a serial killer was the same as murdering a nun who fed the poor.

She sipped her water and decided not to say more. She was getting too comfortable talking openly. Not a good idea with Elonzo.

"I must make a few phone calls," he said, getting up from his seat. "If you need anything, ask the attendant."

"Thank you." She closed her eyes, mentally preparing for anything when they landed. If she was going by her conversations with Elonzo and from what she'd seen so far, what was coming wouldn't be nice. Or easy.

***

Emily had expected Elonzo's vacation home to be on some private island, but it was a compound east of Cabo, Mexico, overlooking the ocean. It had high walls with armed guards and cameras everywhere.

"You may go anywhere on the property," he told her, "but I am afraid there is no beach access. The current on this part of the coast is too strong for swimming anyway."

She nodded, realizing why he'd brought her here. The illusion of freedom and trust. Really, she was in a five-star prison.

Let the head games begin. Or continue. Whichever.

He told her there would be a dinner at eight and someone would be around to help her dress.

"Another governor?" she asked.

"Better." He smiled and disappeared inside the massive mansion, with persimmon-colored stucco, arched doorways, and lush vegetation—a contrast to the surrounding desertscape.

A petite woman with big brown eyes named Nelly showed her to her room, which was incredible—jet tub, waterfall shower, king-size bed, and a closet filled with clothes and shoes. The bar was fully stocked, as were the supplies in the bathroom. The man lived like a king, and he treated his guests like royalty, too.

Around six, Nelly came by. Emily had just finished a long hot shower and some quality time with the deep conditioner.

"I am here to help you with your hair, miss." She held up a box of red hair dye.

"Oh. That's okay. I'm fine with my hideous two-tone for now, and I already dried it."

"Elonzo insists."

Emily had to pick her battles at this point. "Fine. Sure."

Forty minutes later, Emily had a deep red much darker than her natural color, which was fine in itself. What bothered her was when she looked in the mirror, the image staring back was someone she desperately wanted to leave in the past: Justine, the weak woman who had no clue that her path to freedom would lead her here.

"Would you like help styling your hair, miss?" Nelly asked.

"Uh, no. I'll just ponytail it."

"Word of advice: the boss likes pretty things."

"I'm not here to be his arm candy," Emily replied.

She gave Emily a look.

"What are you trying to say?" Emily asked.

"Nothing, miss."

"No. Tell me." Emily grabbed Nelly's thin arm as she tried to leave. "Why am I here?"

The maid shrugged, but Emily knew she was lying.

"You have to tell me. I need to know what's going to happen to me," Emily added.

"All I know," whispered Nelly, "is that he is making a very special effort to impress you. I have never seen him do this."

"What do you think he wants?"

"I do not know, but it cannot hurt to look nice as a sign of respect."

Emily's indignation percolated. She did not want to dress up for this man. On the other hand, she needed to play it smart and buy herself as much time as possible. It wouldn't hurt to get on the man's good side.

"Can you do one of those twist things in the back?" Emily asked.

Nelly smiled. "Of course. And might I recommend the black dress?"

That tiny thing she'd seen in the closet would barely cover her breasts. "I'll stick to something with more coverage, thanks." Besides, she still looked like an old banana, and she did not want to send the wrong signal. Elonzo was a tall, very attractive man, but that meant nothing when faced with the sort of violence he was capable of.

Nelly shrugged.

"Thank you," Emily blurted out. "I appreciate the help. God knows you're the only one trying."