3
Isa
Rafael disappeared from my view as he approached the plane, leaving Matteo and the other man, who’d come to collect Timofey after the first car bomb, behind him. His face lacked the fury I’d expected to see given that one of his homes had been attacked—invaded really—but his steps as he walked over the black top had been calm and measured.
Perfectly timed, the no-fuss swag that I’d come to love during our time in Ibiza showed in his gait. Even though I couldn’t see him, I imagined the slow and sensual way he would climb up the steps.
I was certain most people were quick to fear the version of Rafael that came when he sank into the place where he wanted blood. Where he accepted the violence that coursed through his veins as an intricate part of him, constant and demanding, and took pleasure in the destruction.
The few of us who knew him understood that the true version of Rafael to fear came in those moments where he went still. Where his face was calm and collected, cold and unyielding.
Unfeeling.
The devil didn’t slake his thirst for blood when he reached the deepest well of his anger, only seeking his vengeance with the kind of detachment that lacked all traces of humanity.Thatwas the man who ruled Ibiza with an iron fist and struck fear into the hearts of his enemies.
That was the man who didn’t play with his toys before wiping them from the face of the earth without a second thought; the nightmare who didn’t care who he hurt on his way to claimeverything.He wouldn’t take time to appreciate the beauty in bloodletting, but would end his enemies with a single bullet to the head and forget they existed before the corpse hit the ground.
I felt the moment he entered the back cabin, the shift in the air immediate and palpable. Even with my back turned to him, I knew each and every one of his silent steps brought him closer. Hugo only confirmed that fact when he didn’t touch me before he made his way toward the front of the plane.
Quiet whispers came in the space behind me as they discussed something I wouldn’t be privy to, and I was immediately reminded of the fact that Rafael had told his uncle he had no secrets from me.
It aggravated me more than it should have just how effectively he made that happen only when it suited him. I wanted him to be the man who treated me as his equal in truth, his partner in all things.
And yet when it came down to it, I was trapped in a bunker and drugged for my safety. Tied down to a seat on his plane for a fast escape.
I’d never be his equal, and the worst part was I couldn’t even blame him for that. Not when bullets carved through the air and flesh. Not when Rafe and his men had a lifetime of training that I would never be able to compete with.
I didn’t even want to.
Hugo’s steps retreated from the rear cabin, making their way toward the front where the rest of Rafe’s men had undoubtedly begun to gather to give us privacy. Several more SUVs pulled onto the tarmac, a notably smaller number of men than had been living with us in the house in Chicago.
My heart sank, wondering which of the familiar faces I wouldn’t see again.
Rafael distracted me by lowering himself into the seat across from me with a casual elegance that was so at odds with his appearance. Up close, the stain of blood covering his clothing was far more noticeable than it had been through the window, and it was all I could do to stare at the sheer amount of it.
There was no way the person had survived.
He leaned forward to rest his elbows on his knees as the sound of male voices carried from the other cabin where Hugo had left the door open. Some of the ruthless, cold expression faded from his features as his eyes met mine finally. “How are you feeling?” he asked.
I stared at him incredulously, twitching my arm against the restraint pointedly. “Untie me,” I said.
The plane doors closed at the front, the energy within the plane shifting as I watched Matteo and his men clear all the vehicles from the runway. “Not just yet,” Rafael said, holding my gaze with his. The pity and sympathy I found there drove my anxiety higher, making me struggle against the bonds that held me as the plane moved forward to get into position. He lifted a bottle of water he must have grabbed from the main cabin, uncapping it and lifting it to my lips.
I licked the suddenly dry flesh, realizing just how parched I was in the aftermath of being drugged. I’d been much more concerned with realizing I was tied down and what that might imply.
I let him pour the water into my mouth slowly, giving me breaks to swallow until I’d drained the entire thing.
“What happened?” I asked, watching as he set down the empty bottle and leaned back in his seat. The pilot’s voice came over the intercom system, instructing that we’d be taking off in just a moment. Unlike flying commercial, that meant injust a moment. The plane accelerated before Rafael could answer, but the tired expression on his face did little to reassure me. “Rafe?” I asked as soon as the worst of the takeoff was over.
The plane continued to climb, and Rafe leaned forward in his seat, having never secured his seatbelt. I imagined such things seemed foolish to men like Rafael Ibarra who stared down the barrel of a gun without fear of death.
When we reached altitude, Rafe touched his hand to my forearm. Unfastening the strap that kept it tied down, he pulled my right arm into his embrace and rubbed feeling back into the numbed limb. He was eerily quiet as he worked, focusing all his attention on his task.
I swallowed back the tears that threatened and the sinking feeling that something terrible had happened. I stared down at my arm as he placed it back on the seat and moved to my left. He repeated the process on that side while I watched.
Something inside me died when he unbuckled me and pulled me into his lap as the plane leveled off, not bothering to wait for the pilot’s instruction that we were free to roam. The blood on his clothing was dry, as if it had been there for hours, and the fact that it touched my bare skin made me immensely grateful for it.
I might have stabbed a man, but I didn’t think I was cut out to be a ruthless killer. The thought of all that blood on my skin made me nauseous. “What have you done?” I whispered, letting him tuck my face into his neck. Wrapping my arms around his shoulders, he lifted me and unfolded to stand.