The Vargas Cartel Trilogy (Vargas Cartel #1-3)(43)
I squeezed me eyes shut, trying to find comfort in his words. “And pushing me away and pretending nothing happened will protect me?”
“Yes.” He sighed. “This is the way it has to be. This is the way it should have been.”
“Fine. I won’t tell anyone, ever,” I mumbled, turning my head to avoid his gaze. Instead, I stared blindly at the walls of the room, willing the numbness to take over so I didn’t feel anything. I used to do the same thing as a kid when my mom’s demands became too much. It helped me survive in the past, and I needed it now for the same reason. Within mere seconds, I relaxed as the familiar blanket of nothingness rolled through me.
“Good. Are you ready?”
With little reluctance, I shuffled toward the door. “I guess so,” I replied, because what else could I say? I didn’t want to go back to my windowless cell, but I didn’t want to stay here either. I could scream and cry about the unfairness of my life later. Right now, I didn’t have a choice. I had to keep moving forward and embrace the nothingness until I could reclaim my life.
Ryker unlatched the lock. “Do I need to tie your hands or will you follow me willingly?”
Dropping my sandals to the floor, I balled my hands into fists in front of my body. My fingernails dug into my palms. “Do whatever you want,” I mumbled, resisting the urge to fight him even as anger sparked in my veins, swallowing my numbness piece by piece. “I followed you all day yesterday, and I didn’t try to leave last night, but it’s your call.”
Lines bracketed the sides of his mouth as he pressed his lips into a firm, straight line. “Let’s go then.” He wrenched the decrepit door open, and there stood Ignacio.
His dark eyes flashed between Ryker and me. The skin at the corners of his eyes crinkled into deep lines. I wished he wouldn’t look at me that way. It made me feel exposed…transparent.
“Is everything okay?” Ignacio asked, running his tanned hand through his salt and pepper hair.
I’d never noticed the resemblance between him and Ryker until that moment. While I suspected Ryker looked more like his mom than his dad, he had his dad’s long, angular nose, heavy-lidded eyes, and broad shoulders.
“Everything is perfect. Miss Covington agreed she wouldn’t run again, so we shouldn’t have any additional problems before it’s time to make the exchange.” Ryker folded his arms across his chest, but he didn’t turn around to look at me. Damn him and his calm ambivalence.
“That’s what you said when you left her in your room alone and without a guard,” Ignacio shot back.
“She won’t run again,” Ryker retorted without any further explanation. “Right, Miss Covington?”
I stared at the ceiling, studying the web of hairline cracks, extending outward in a maze from the white ceiling fan. I hated surrendering so easily, but it was true. I wasn’t running again unless Ryker happened to stop in front of the U.S. embassy, and I wouldn’t hold my breath for that to happen. “No,” I answered after a heavy pause.
Ignacio scanned the disheveled bedding. “It’s not a good idea to get involved with the cargo.”
“Cargo?” I said.
Ryker glanced over his shoulder at me, his eyes cold as ice even as a chuckle fell from his deceptively seductive lips. “In the world of cartels, cargo is a hostage. Targets are execution victims.”
“Hm.” At least Ignacio didn’t call me a target. I might become one at some point, but not yet.
“Is there anything I need to know?” Ignacio persisted.
“I don’t have anything to share. Miss Covington, do you?” Ryker’s question was so innocent, so utterly lacking in guile that I knew he intended to bait me.
“No,” I whispered, dropping my eyes to the ground, flames of embarrassment warming my face. My gut twisted. He asked me to pretend nothing happened between us…that he didn’t cradle me all night. Fine. I could do that. I mentally scrubbed his scent and the specter of his touch from my skin.
“Great. Put your sandals on and let’s get out of here. I’m tired from trekking through the jungle for two nights.” Ryker said, stepping to the side, signaling for me to go out the door first.
I stuffed my feet into my sandals with far more enthusiasm and energy than I’d thought possible given the rollercoaster of emotions circling in my mind. Just when I thought Ryker and I had managed to form some semblance of a truce and mutual trust, he turned into an * again. Even though he had protected me, killed for me, lied for me, and carried me when my body failed me, I felt invisible and insignificant under his indifferent gaze. We agreed not to tell anyone what happened between us, but I didn’t appreciate his cruelty. I wouldn’t cry, though. I had already indulged in enough self-pity for a lifetime.
Hot, cold, fire, ice…I didn’t know what to expect from Ryker anymore. One minute, I believed we had a connection. The next, he made me feel like less than nothing. He broadcasted hundreds of mixed messages. I debated whether he suffered from a bipolar disorder. Screw it. Dwelling on him longer than I already had was senseless.
Ryker promised I would be home soon, and I decided to focus on that. Once I was safely in my bed at home, I owed it to myself to cry, scream, and do all of the self-destructive things I wanted…until I erased all the contradictory emotions I harbored toward Ryker from my system forever.