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RAFAEL
I lie in an oversize coffin for what seems like hours, waiting for Lexie to go into the bathroom. The wait is purgatory.
Each time she shifts on the mattress above, the movement echoes in the hollow chamber. It’s a small sound, but frustrating. She’s achingly close, but still out of reach.
I scroll through my messages so that when I get the hell out of here, my eyes won’t need time to adjust to the light. I can’t afford to be incapacitated, not for one second. When I get word, I need to move quickly.
We knew the guards would sweep the room thoroughly and would likely discover any surveillance we planted. If there had been an inkling that we’d be in this situation, we would have had an undetectable monitoring device with us on the trip. Fortunately, Tamar is resourceful and improvised using the smart alarm clock beside the bed for surveillance.
Lexie will be pissed when she finds out we monitored—spied on—her in the room. I don’t like it for her, either, but there was no fucking choice. We have to know the coast is clear before I can move.
While the wait has been excruciating, it gave our extra team an opportunity to get here, and it allowed for important exit planning. It would be ideal if we could get her out of the country before dawn.
Despite the extra planning time, no one believes we can get Lexie safely out of the hotel without Will’s guy, Brendon Symes. This isn’t a circumstance where we can dress her up as a maid or shove her in the bottom of a laundry cart and pile dirty linen on her. Those tactics work only when no one is expecting them. Lexie has to walk or be carried out, and to do that, Symes will need to create a diversion.
It’s hot as hell in here, and every muscle rebels against confinement. My mind begins to wander. I imagine Lexie’s damp skin against mine after we’ve gone a few rounds. Her hair is matted to her cheeks. I sweep it away so that no part of her is hidden from me. Beads form on her forehead and above her lip as she babbles, eyes glazed. “I can’t,” she whimpers. But she can, and if I coax her body just right, she always gives up another orgasm for me. Always.
My cock twitches, and I curse, just as my phone lights up with a single word.
Now.
9
LEXIE
After stripping off every stitch of clothing, I lean into the shower and turn on the water. It’s then I sense something moving behind me.
Before I can turn my head, a large hand covers my mouth and secures my body against a wall of muscle. I can’t move.
The traffickers. My throat tightens with panic. He’s going to sell me. I’m going to die.
The man twists so that we can see each other in the mirror.
Rafael. It takes a few seconds for my brain to register that it’s really him. Although the wild black eyes in the glass do nothing to reassure me that I’m safe.
I can’t stop staring at his reflection. He looks—unhinged. Maybe my father was right.
“Francesca Russo is dead.” His voice is hoarse, devoid of empathy—or any emotion at all.
Did he kill her?
Fear claws at me as I struggle to breathe through my mouth.
“Your father’s operation has been infiltrated, and it’s unclear who can be trusted. You’re in danger. We need to get you out of here.”
You’re in danger. Every cell of my being knows it’s true, but the danger seems to be coming from him. I need to alert the guards—how? But what if he’s right? What if they can’t be trusted?
“If I take my hand off your mouth, can you be quiet?”
I pause as the dark eyes in the mirror bore into me. He’s unhinged. My father’s words are all I think about as I nod.
“Promise me, Angel, that if I let go, you won’t scream. Both our lives depend on it.”
Especially his.
Maybe he is a bit mad—I don’t know. But there’s a shoot order, and I have no doubt the guards will kill him in a heartbeat if I scream. I don’t care how deranged he is; I won’t let that happen.
Get a grip, Lexie. Rafael would not kill Francesca, and he wouldn’t hurt you. My brain is cautious, but my heart knows he wouldn’t do those things.
