“Oh.” Another wave of despair rolled through her. She fought to subdue it.
Zach wasn’t whining and complaining. Neither should she.
“ZACH, WAKE UP! I think they’re coming!”
Zach jerked awake.
Men’s voices grew nearer.
Gritting his teeth, he dragged himself upright, more aware of Natalie’s fear than his own discomfort or dread. He fought to catch his breath. “It’s okay . . . Cárdenas isn’t here yet. They’re . . . coming for me . . . not for you.”
“It’s not okay! No matter what you’ve done to anger them, you don’t deserve to be tortured or chained up like this. You are in chains, aren’t you? I can hear them clinking when you move.”
“I guess they figure . . . I’m more of a threat than you are.” And then it hit him. She probably thought he was some kind of criminal. Not surprising, given their situation and how little he’d told her.
In that instant, the door was thrown wide, daylight spilling across his blindfold. Familiar voices joked in Spanish about Natalie.
“Sheispretty—and shy. Look. She doesn’t like it when I try to touch her.”
Zach thought he heard Natalie gasp, her shoes scuffing on the floor as she backed away from the door to her cell.
The men laughed.
“I hope El Jefe shares her when he’s done with her. Oh, she makes me hard.”
“Do you think El Jefe would mind if we fuck only her mouth?”
Anger and disgust burned through Zach, reviving him, clearing his head. He spoke to them in their own language, hoping Natalie hadn’t understood what they’d said. “Cárdenas will feed your dicks to his dogs, you stupidchingaderos.”
That got their attention.
Zach heard a key slip into the lock of his cell door.
“Eh,cuñado, are you ready to talk? Or do you want to die screaming?”
He ignored the taunt. “You should feed her and give her clean water. Do you think your Jefe wants a weak, half-starved bag of bones? And if these scorpions sting her and make her sick—I wonder what El Jefe will do to you then.”
The stench of alcohol and sour sweat assaulted Zach’s nostrils as someone leaned down and spoke directly into his face. “Shut your mouth before I cut out your tongue, you stinking son of a whore.”
His manacles were unclipped from the chain, then he was hauled to his feet, one Zeta at each elbow. He stumbled blindly forward, wishing he had the strength to fight them. He’d tried on his first day here, but he hadn’t been able to get his cuffed hands in front of his body fast enough to pull his blindfold off so that he could see the men he was trying to fight. That’s when they’d kicked the shit out of him and broken his ribs.
Now he barely had the strength to stand upright.
“Zach!” Natalie’s voice came from his right. “Leave him alone!”
He dug in his heels, fought to stand his ground for just another moment. “Listen to me, Natalie. Don’t let Cárdenas get inside your head. Nothing he can do to you can change who you are. Remember that!”
Then he was shoved roughly forward, pain splitting his side, stealing his breath. Sunlight hit him full in the face, cool stone giving way to sharp, hot gravel beneath his bare feet. Every muscle in his body tensed.
I am an American, fighting in the forces that guard my country . . .
He started to recite the code of conduct, trying to prepare his mind for what was to come, but a different thought replaced it. It was nothing much—just a name—but it seemed to put steel back into his spine.
Natalie.
NATALIE BIT INTO the corn tortilla and chewed. It might as well have been sand. She swallowed, forcing it past the hard lump in her throat, eating only because she knew she must.
Do whatever it takes to survive. Do you hear me, Natalie? Just survive.