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“Promise me, Lexie. I don’t want to die—not without knowing you’re safe.” His eyes are softer now and filled with concern.
He’s not a danger to me.
“I promise,” I mumble into his hand and nod.
He studies me in the mirror before dropping his hand from my mouth.
I take a ragged breath and then another, as he turns me to face him. “Get dressed. We need to go.”
He seems more like himself now—more controlled—but I’m not leaving with him. I don’t want him shot, but my father wouldn’t lie about him going to great lengths to stalk me. What if he’s now decided I’m a traitor, and he needs to make some sort of example of me? The push and pull of emotions, and the panic that hasn’t fully subsided, is making it hard for me to think logically.
You need to stay near your guards. Once you go with him, anything could happen. This is a basic tenet of survival in my world. I need to lean on what I’ve been taught, because I can’t think clear enough to make a good decision right now.
“I don’t want you to die either. You need to get out of here before the guards find you. But I’m not going with you. My father said you commandeered a satellite and were tracking my flight. That’s not rational behavior.”
He pulls out his phone and sends a text.
“Rational went out the window after I learned about Francesca, and I couldn’t reach you or your father.”
Francesca. I squelch the sob with a ragged breath. “She’s really dead?”
“She is.”
My heart races again. Maybe it never stopped. “Who are you texting?”
Rafael holds up the phone and flashes the screen so I can see: WC.
“My father?”
He nods.
What if it’s a trick to get me to go with him?
“What’s going on? Why are you talking with my father? He said I shouldn’t trust you.”
Rafael winces. “We don’t have a lot of time.” His gaze skims my naked body, and the knob in his throat bobs. “Get dressed and I’ll tell you everything.”
I snatch my shirt from the floor. “Go on,” I urge, making quick work of the buttons.
“Your father’s men discovered the flight attendant who was to be part of your crew—dead.”
Cristina? No! She can’t be dead. Please don’t let it be her.
“An impostor used her credentials to get onto your plane.”
He’s telling the truth. How else would he know that it wasn’t the usual crew aboard the plane? A sense of relief begins to creep in, or maybe it’s a need to trust him—to trust someone. Before I can ask a question, three raps sound at the room door.
He holds his finger to his mouth. “Wait here.”
I grab his arm. “No. I’ll go to the door. There’s a shoot order. Even if the guards aren’t compromised, they’ll kill you.”
“I know about the order. Your father sent a trusted man to help us get out of here. I want to be sure it’s him.” He gazes at me. “Lock the door and keep my phone in case you need to call for help. Here,” he says, pulling a gun from an ankle holster.
“Rafael. No. You need your phone and gun.”
“I have another gun and a knife.”
I stare at the weapon in his hand.
