CHAPTER 11
NATALIE COULDN’T BELIEVE she was doing this, her heart already pounding. She squirmed and tried to make herself smaller, her body bent in a fetal position and crammed into the military duffel bag that had held their guns. Then her hair caught on the zipper. “Ouch!”
“Sorry.” Zach’s fingers freed the strands, then tugged the corner of the bag up over her right shoulder, encasing all but her face in thick canvas.
“You promised. Just a few minutes.”
“I’ll get you out of here as fast as I can.” Zach reached down, cupped her cheek, his features invisible, his head a shadow against the darkness. “I’m sorry, Natalie, but it’s the only way. Are you ready?”
She wanted to shout at him to get her out, but then how would he sneak her into the hotel room? The Zetas were searching for Americancouples. If anyone saw her, if anyone recognized her . . .
She drew a deep breath, steeled herself.You can do this.“Yes.”
Then he closed the trunk.
Darkness. Heat. The duffel bag tighter than a coffin.
Her pulse picked up, panic closing in.
Snap out of it! Two days ago, you spent hours in a trunk in the hands of killers. You’re safer in here than out there.
She heard the driver’s door shut, heard the engine start, and drew a steadying breath. It was only a few blocks from the edge of town, where Zach had pulled off the road, to the hotel. He would drive to the front entrance, where everyone could see that he was alone. He would go in, pay in cash, speaking only Spanish, then drive the car around to the door of their room—and sneak her inside.
No one would know that she was there. If the Zetas showed up looking for an American man and woman, the front desk would tell them there weren’t any.
She closed her eyes, kept her breathing slow and steady as the car slowed and came to a stop at the traffic light.
Only two blocks to go.
The seconds dragged by, the heat inside the duffel bag sweltering, her body cramped, her skin slick with sweat.
The car began to move again, then slowed and turned left.
One block.
The darkness seeped in on her, so slowly that at first she didn’t realize it.
Have a nice death, a peaceful death.
She swallowed, her mouth dry, those hated words running unwelcome through her mind. She tried to force them aside, unwilling to be held hostage by the horror of that day.
The car rolled to a stop.
Above the rush of her own pulse, she heard the door open. She would be alone now while Zach went inside and got a room.
You can do this. You can do this.
After a brief eternity, the driver’s side door opened again, and the engine started. Moments later, she felt the car slow, turn, and roll to a stop.
Not long now. Not long.
The door opened and closed, and then . . .
Nothing.
What was he doing? Where had he gone? Had something happened?
She strained to listen but could hear nothing. The seconds became minutes which seemed to stretch into hours, until the only sound Natalie could hear was the hammering of her own heart.