There was a pain in his expression as he spoke. The lines deepened in his forehead with his frown. She knew something had happened to him in South America. Perhaps now, perhaps here, after she’d told her story, he might finally tell her his. “How do you know? What happened to you, Gabriel?”
With a sigh, he sat back and looked up at the sliver of a moon overhead. “I was fresh from college and my father named me VP of South American Operations. As part of my job, I had to travel to our various shipping and trade ports in Brazil, Argentina, Venezuela and Chile. Dealing with Venezuela was controversial, but my father had decided that the country had oil and needed it shipped. Why shouldn’t we profit from it instead of someone else?
“I saved Caracas for my last stop and things had gone so well in the other locations that I wasn’t wary any longer by the time I arrived in Venezuela. I went down there and spent a few days getting acclimated and met with the team there. One evening, my guide and translator, Raoul, offered to take me out for an authentic Venezuelan dinner. The moment we stepped outside, a van pulled up by the curb. Raoul hit me on the back of the head with something and I blacked out. The next thing I knew, I was lying on a stinky, lumpy mattress in a cold, dark room with no windows. My wrists and ankles were tied with thick rope.”
Serafia could barely believe what she was being told. How had she never heard about this before? She wanted to ask, but she didn’t dare interrupt.
“When my captor finally showed up a few hours later, he told me that I was being held for ransom and as soon as my family paid them, I’d be released.”
“Did they pay them?” she asked.
He avoided her gaze, swallowing hard before he spoke. “No. I was in that underground room in virtual darkness for over a week. Every day the guy would come down and bring me a jug of water and some food, but that was it. After about the sixth day alone with my thoughts, and with constant taunts from my captor that my family hadn’t paid the ransom yet and must not care if I lived or died, I came to the conclusion that if I wanted out of this place, I’d have to save myself. And I decided that when I did, I was going to live the life I wanted from that moment on.”
“You escaped?” Serafia asked, near breathless with suspense.
“My rusty metal bed frame was my savior. I used it to slowly cut through my bindings. It took almost all day to do it. When my captor opened the door to bring my evening meal, I was waiting for him. I leaped on him, beating his head against the concrete floor until he stopped fighting me. Once I was sure he was unconscious, I took his gun and keys, locking him in the room. It turned out he was my only guard, so I literally went up the stairs and walked out onto the busy streets of Caracas. I made my way to the US embassy, told them what had happened and I was back in Miami by sunrise.”
Serafia was nearly speechless. “Did they ever catch the people responsible?”
“Raoul was arrested for his part in the conspiracy, but he was just a facilitator paid a flat fee for delivering me at a special place and time. They found my captor still locked in the room where they kept me. Anyone else who was involved got away with it. But really, in the end, I wasn’t angry with them. I was angry with my family. They knew what could happen if they sent me down there.”
“What did they say when you showed up at home?”
Gabriel stiffened beside her and shrugged. “They welcomed me home and then tried to pretend it never happened. But I could never forget.”
It was a horrible story to hear, but suddenly so much of Gabriel’s personality suddenly made sense to her. He never got close to anyone and got a lot of grief from his family for being superficial. Even Serafia had been guilty of judging him, thinking he cared more about partying than worrying about anything serious. She’d accused him of being reckless, but when they were both faced with death, they reacted differently. She became supercautious, nearly afraid to live life for fear of losing it for good. He had done the opposite: living every moment to the fullest in case it was his last. Who was she to judge him?
Serafia reached out and took his hand. She felt a surge of emotion when they touched. When she looked at him, for the first time she was able to see the sadness in his green eyes, the wariness behind the bright smile. The bad boy facade kept people away and she had fallen for it. She didn’t want to keep him at arm’s length any longer.
Gabriel gripped her hand in his, letting his thumb brush across her skin. It sent a shiver of awareness down her spine, urging her to lean in closer to him.
“I know that’s a lot of information to process,” he said. “I didn’t tell it to you so you’d feel bad for me. I told you because I wanted you to understand that we’re coming from a similar place. No one is perfect. We’re all messed up somehow. But it’s how we deal with it that matters. I’m an expert at pushing people away. You’re the first woman I’ve ever met who had made me want to try to trust someone again. Stop thinking that you don’t measure up somehow, because you’re wrong.”