The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(18)

I craved conversation and contact. Yesterday, I started singing songs at the top of my lungs—dumb songs designed to annoy everyone in hearing distance. First, I belted out cornball nursery rhymes like the “Wheels on the Bus” and the “Ants Go Marching.” I liked these two songs because they allowed me to invent new verses to the tune. When I found myself talking about the drunks on the bus, I figured I should move on.

Move on I did…with Eric Carmen’s “All by Myself” and Katy Perry’s “Roar.” Both songs appealed to me given my situation. One spoke to my loneliness, and the other became a theme song about breaking out my prison. I didn’t know all the lyrics, but I improvised where necessary. As a bonus, I liked the idea of subjecting Ryker to my ramblings, because I had a feeling they would annoy the shit out of him.

“Get dressed,” Ryker demanded one morning after I finished eating my breakfast.

I scanned my outfit. I had on the same dress I wore yesterday, not that my clothing selections were important. I didn’t have anyone to impress. “I am dressed.”

With narrowed eyes and a furrowed brow, he scanned the length of my body. “You wore that dress yesterday.”

“How would you know?” I didn’t look up from my book.

“Cameras.”

Time froze as my mind swam in circles. “Cameras?” Somehow I found my voice, but it was small, barely above a whisper.

“Yes, cameras.” He tilted his head to the side, a faint smile playing at the corners of his lush lips. “You know what those are, right?”

I wanted to say something cutting, but anger and shock prevented me from forming the words. While I was locked in a cave-like room, Ryker apparently scrutinized my movements as though I were a rat in a lab experiment. How long before Hattie lost her mind? “You’re a sick bastard.”

“I’ve heard that before. Let’s go.”

“Where are we going?”

“We’re making a proof of life video, or in this case, a proof of life live video conference.”

“That’s dumb,” I declared standing up.

“How do you figure?”

“I’m sure there’s a way to trace the call and then they’ll come for me. What are you using? Skype?”

He chuckled. “It’s not Skype, just something similar with many layers of encryption.”

“That doesn’t mean they can’t circumvent it.”

“They could, but it will take at least seven minutes to break the encryption technology if they’re good. Longer if they don’t know what they’re doing, and the exchange won’t last long anyway.” He held out his hand to me.

“So it’s a live stream.” Ignoring his hand, I brushed by him. I probably had about thirty seconds of saying whatever I wanted before they stopped me or turned off the video stream. I intended to make good use of the time even if Ryker and his minions punished me later. Given my solitary confinement in a windowless room, I didn’t have much information to provide, but I refused to read from some worthless script where I begged my dad to comply with my captors’ terms.

“You think you’ll be able to give them useful information,” he said. A ghost-like laugh escaped his mouth as he wrapped his hand around my neck, guiding me out the door.

Screw him. He was always one step ahead of me, but that knowledge only fueled the fire raging inside of me to find a way to circumvent him. “Maybe,” I replied.

He guided me through the shadowed hallways of the house that served as my prison for the past week. When we reached the front door, he pulled a rope from the pocket of his black pants and dangled it in front of my face. “Do I need this or will you be a good girl?”

My body begged with me to resist everything he wanted and try to escape, but with him trailing beside me, I wouldn’t get far. In the end, he’d catch me, and he’d make my life much worse than it already was. If I did this chat, maybe it would improve my dad’s chances of finding me or securing my release in the near future. I held out my hands to him. “Do whatever you want. With or without the restraints, I can’t go far.”

“You’re right. I’ll find you.” He stuffed the rope back in his pocket and opened the door. “Now walk.”

The minute I stepped outside the front door, my eyes screamed from the sudden onslaught of bright light. I’d spent over a week in a dark, cavernous room, and my eyes didn’t appreciate the sudden change. Ryker’s hand circled the back of my neck again.

“We’re going to the villa to do the little video chat.”

I nodded as my vision came into focus. Less than fifty yards in front of me, I saw a large, white stucco villa with sweeping arches and a terra cotta colored tile roof. It had to be at least three stories with a picturesque columned front patio. I glanced over my shoulder to see the building where Ryker kept me. Like the villa, it was white stucco, but it didn’t have any windows—at least on the front of the building—and resembled a shed in comparison to the villa.

“What am I supposed to say to my dad?” I asked as Ryker pushed open an oversized, intricately carved wooden door.

“I don’t think we’ll be talking to your dad today.”

I halted, and Ryker’s body brushed against my back. Every inch of his heated body pressed into my back. I trembled. “Why not?”