Keeping My Captive by Angela Snyder

CHAPTER20

Aria

“WHERE ARE WE going?” I ask for what feels like the millionth time during the car ride.

“You’ll see,” Mateo answers for the exact number of times that I have asked.

Scowling, I stare out the dark tinted window, trying to take in every detail in case I need to remember anything. Wherever we’re going, I’m prepared to scream and fight and call out for help. I want to go home…before I forget what home felt like. My life prior to being kidnapped is starting to feel like some sort of surreal dream that I was suddenly woken up from. It’s scaring me how I’m growing accustomed to my life here, to Mateo, to everything. I don’t want to get used to things. I want to go back to my old life.

I can hear the music before we even pull up to the club. It makes me think of that awful night when I was taken and my entire world changed and crashed around me. My heart starts beating faster, and I begin knotting my fingers nervously in my lap.

“What’s wrong?” Mateo asks, his dark eyes assessing me.

I shake my head, dismissing my inner thoughts. “Nothing.”

He stares at me for a beat before he reaches for the door handle. He opens the door and impatiently waits for me to emerge from the car.

I’m wearing the red dress that Sofia let me borrow and my scuffed-up Louboutins. I step out of the car and almost fall thanks to one of the heels being cracked. Mateo catches me in his arms at the last second and hauls me against his chest. He’s so tall that I feel like a child in his arms.

“Those shoes have seen better days,” he remarks gruffly. “Sofia should’ve let you borrow a pair of her heels.”

“They were a gift from my mother,” I respond. I couldn’t bear the thought of throwing them away. And when I wear them, I feel like a part of her is with me, giving me the strength I need to carry on.

Mateo nods slowly in understanding. With me still in his arms, he gazes down at me, studying my face with rapt interest. Since all the things on my list were brought to me, I decided to get all dolled up with a full face of makeup. I did a smokey eye and a nude glossy lip. I can’t even count how many times Mateo has looked at me tonight. I look hot. I know I do. I was always used to the attention back home, but I’m not so sure if I want his attention. What if he decides he’s done being patient with me? What if he just takes what he wants?

Mateo releases me then, taking a step back. He clears his throat and then motions towards the club. “Let’s go,” he says, his voice deep and gravelly.

With his hand on my lower back, he guides me towards the front door. Several times I almost stop, wanting to turn and run the other way, but his hand is persistent, moving me forward.

One of the bouncers gives him a subtle nod as he opens the door and motions for us to enter. The moment we walk inside the dark club, the volume of the music almost knocks me over. It’s so loud…and bright. It reminds me of the club I was in when I was taken. When Constantine had a bunch of people gunned down in front of my eyes. Memories of that night assault my mind as I glance around, making sure everyone here is alive and well, and not lying dead on the floor with vacant stares. My breathing becomes erratic as I try to calm my nerves but desperately fail.

Mateo stops and turns to me. He studies me for a moment, his dark brows furrowing. “I have some business I need to take care of. You’ll wait for me upstairs with Pablo and Javier in the VIP lounge. Alright?”

I nod several times, unable to speak. He probably thinks I’m looking around for a way out of here. I mean, technically I am, but not just for the reason he thinks.

Grabbing my arm roughly, he leans in closer to tell me, “Behave yourself while I’m gone, cariño.” And then he vows, “I will punish you if I have to.”

He pulls back and stares at me for several seconds until I finally break eye contact and stare around the club, keeping my face stoic and feigning interest. And then he eventually walks away.

I search the area around me, wondering if anyone speaks English. But when I feel a firm hand at my elbow, I know my time is already up. Mateo’s goons are going to take me upstairs whether I want to or not.

“Let’s go,” Pablo says sternly. He’s the bigger of the two. While Javier is tall and skinny, Pablo is stout and muscular. I’ve seen them around the compound often, but I don’t know much about them other than their names and that they work for Mateo.

I’m led upstairs, and my entire body is trembling by the time we get to the top. Javier opens the door, and I slowly enter. Several men are in the room, playing Poker at a large, oval table, and they all turn at once to look at me with hungry eyes. But as soon as Javier says, “This is Mateo’s girl,” every single one of them turns their attention back to the card game.

Sighing, I realize tonight is not the night to plan an escape. Mateo has all of these men in his back pocket, and I’ll never be allowed to leave this room on my own. Sitting down on the couch, I try to calm myself down. “May I have some water?” I ask Pablo.

He mumbles something in Spanish under his breath, but then begrudgingly turns and grabs a bottle of water from a nearby mini fridge.

I take the water with a small note of appreciation. My hands are shaking, and it takes me several attempts to open the cap. The water feels cool and soothing on my throat, but it does nothing to take away from the loud music thumping downstairs and making my stomach turn with every drop of the bass.

I can feel a cold sweat breaking out on my forehead, and I fan myself to try to get rid of the nausea. Goosebumps form on my arms as I think about that fateful night. The club. The music. The gunshots.

I squeeze my eyes shut and press the cold bottle of water against my neck, trying to bring myself back to reality.

My eyes open, and suddenly the room I’m in feels too small and suffocating. I feel like I can’t get enough air into my lungs. I’ve never had a panic attack before, but I think that might be exactly what’s going on.

I stand quickly, teetering in my heels, and all the blood rushes to my head to the point where I’m lightheaded. Just the thought of passing out in a room full of these criminals makes my anxiety even worse.

“What the fuck is your problem?” someone asks.

And that’s when I hear it.

Pop, pop, pop, pop!

It’s loud and distinctive over the music. At first, I think I’m hearing things, stuck in a memory of that night, but then I see the men in the room all going on high alert all at once; all of them reaching for their own weapons.

The men who were all previously in the room before our arrival go storming out the door. Pablo looks to his partner and says, “Stay with her. I’m going to go check things out.”

Javier stands by the door with his gun in his hand, ready to shoot anyone who dares to cross the threshold.

“He’s coming for me,” I whisper, ice crystallizing in my veins as I shiver with fear. Even though it doesn’t make any sense, I truly believe that somehow Constantine found me. He’s shooting up the club just like he did the night he kidnapped me. He’s going to take me again. And even though I wanted to be rescued from Mateo, I now realize that there are crueler fates out there and more dangerous men than my own captor.

“He’s coming!” I yell in a panic, my voice tremulous and sounding high-pitched and strange even to my own ears.

Javier turns to look at me with an inquisitive look on his face. “Who? Who’s coming for you?” he demands.

My mouth opens, but the only sound that comes out is a horrified scream.