Crazy Ever After

Chapter Nineteen

Shit. Travis stared at the man with the gun. It didn’t matter who the hell the guy was, and he had no idea, but there was nothing good about seeing a man with a gun at that point. Javier’s odd behavior and nervousness had infected Travis, too, and his gut felt like there was a rock in it. He resisted the urge to rub the tight muscles of his neck. He reached for Samara and pushed her behind him.

“Ms. Hayden,” the man said.

He knew Samara?

She said nothing, just held onto Travis, crowded up close against his back.

“You should not have come here,” the man continued in perfect English. “I told you to go home.”

He felt Samara stiffen behind him. Oh shit. She did not like people who told her what to do. He’s got a gun, he tried to communicate with her telepathically. This wasn’t a time for stubbornness.

“I’m here on business,” she said, and Travis suspected only he could detect the faint tremor of nerves in her voice. “I have a right to be here. How do you know who I am?”

“It is my business to know,” the man said enigmatically. Travis saw Javier frown, as if he, too, was surprised the man knew who Samara was. Clearly Javier hadn’t been expecting them, and yet, this man seemed to have been.

Another man, also dark haired, but short and slender, and also carrying a gun, appeared from the other room. “What is this?” he demanded, gesturing toward them with the weapon. “Who are they?”

The taller man sighed. “Raoul. Hijo de puta,” he muttered. “Never mind who they are. We will have to kill them.”

Travis’s heart lurched to a stop.

“There is no time right now,” Raoul said, staring at them through narrowed eyes. “The plane is landing. We have to get out there.”

“Tie them up, Javier,” the taller man ordered.

“I’ll do it,” Raoul said.

The taller man’s face tightened, and he gave a grim nod. “Good.”

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Travis’s mind spun. He had no weapon of course. What the hell would he need a gun for? There was no way he was about to take on a guy with an evil-looking handgun pointed at them. While Javier located a couple of lengths of rough hemp rope, both men stood there, legs spread, guns pointed at Travis and Samara.

Samara started trembling behind him. He reached for her and held her hips with his hands, keeping her behind him, wanting to reassure her. Christ, this was so not good.

Raoul pushed them onto hard wooden chairs. He bound their wrists and ankles then wrapped rope around their waists and the backs of the chairs.

Travis wasn’t sure if talking was a good idea, but hey, if they were going to die, he had to at least make an effort. “Look, we don’t know what’s going on here. Just let us go. We’ll drive back to Santa Anjelita, and we won’t say a word to anyone. We’re getting on a plane back to the States tonight. We’ll be gone in twelve hours.”

They ignored him.

Great.

“Don’t even think of trying anything,” the bigger guy warned with a glare. “We’ll be back soon.”

The door closed behind them, and Travis locked his gaze on Samara seated beside him. “Oh man. Shit just got real. Are you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, great. Fuck no! I’m not okay! Travis, they’re going to kill us!”

“Relax,” he said, although his body was tightly coiled. He gritted his teeth. “They haven’t yet, so there’s still hope.”

“That’s the man!” she cried. “The man from the hotel. How did he get here? How does he know me?”

“Shit.”

“Oh, god, what the hell did I get us into?” she wailed. “I can’t believe this.”

“Don’t fall apart on me now,” he said to her. “Come on, Samara.’

“This is my fault! I’m the stupid idiot who insisted on coming here. You tried to tell me it was dangerous.” She shook her head, and tears welled in her beautiful green and gold eyes. “God, Travis, I’m so sorry.”

“Let’s just try to get out of here,” he muttered, working at the ropes on his wrist. They bit into his flesh, but he ignored it. “Can you get loose at all?”

Samara bit her lip and started fidgeting with the ropes binding her. “No.” She tried again. “Dammit.”

Travis was silent as he made another effort. But the ropes were tight. Jesus. There. God! It might have loosened just a hair. He went at it again.

Samara’s eyes dropped to his hands. “Travis, you’re bleeding. Stop.”

“I don’t care,” he said through gritted teeth, pain burning his arms. “I don’t give a fucking shit if my wrists are bleeding. We have to get out of here before they get back.”

He tried to stand. The chair came with him, but when he tried to shuffle across the floor, his bound ankles made him lose his balance. Christ, he almost fell on his face but managed to shift back, and the chair hit the floor hard, creaking and jolting his very bones. Damn.

Samara started working at her wrists, too, but he could see she wasn’t making any progress.

Fuck.

Time stretched in the dim room. Sweat broke out on his forehead, and his armpits stung. His gut churned until he wondered if he was going to puke.

Eventually they both gave up, wrists raw, Travis’s blood reddening the ropes. “I’m sorry,” he groaned. “I can’t get out.”

“Don’t. It’s not your fault. Don’t apologize.” Her eyes closed, and her head fell back.

They sat and waited for whatever doom was about to befall them. Travis wasn’t prepared to give up all hope. When the two men came back, they’d have an opportunity to try to talk their way out again, or maybe escape. If he could get that gun away from that guy…

What the chances of that were he had no idea, but he’d try anything if it meant getting Samara out of there in one piece. Why the fuck had he let her talk him into doing this? He knew Parker’d been involved in bad shit. This just proved it. Obviously there was more than coffee being grown and traded at the Alvarez estate.

Damn you, Parker. Then he sighed. Parker had obviously gotten himself into trouble, but he couldn’t blame Parker for this. They’d done this themselves.

Samara sat there, rope biting into her wrists and ankles, her stomach churning at the sight of Travis’s bloody wrists. Sweat dampened her clothing, and her heart thudded so hard in her chest she could hardly hear.

What had she done?

She closed her eyes on a wave of dizziness. Guilt rose up and smacked her in the face. If she hadn’t been so stubborn and stupid about this, they wouldn’t be in this mess. Shit.

How could she fix this? She couldn’t get them out of here. The ropes squeezed her tightly. If Travis couldn’t loosen them, she certainly couldn’t. Her stomach heaved even more at the thought that they were about to die.

Just when they’d finally found each other and gotten past mistakes out in the open. Just when it seemed maybe they could have something together. After all those years. It was so fucking unfair!

She blinked at the sudden sting in her eyes and looked up at the ceiling. She didn’t pray often; maybe she should have. At that moment she was prepared to make a deal. If they could get out of here, she’d leave Portland and go back to San Francisco. She’d give up Travis and let him run the company. Obviously she couldn’t do it. She’d screwed everything up, so badly they were about to die. She didn’t deserve that job, and she couldn’t do it. Not now, not after this. And she didn’t deserve Travis.

Despair swamped her, making her throat ache, and the hot tears spilled out of her eyes. She sniffled, hoping Travis wouldn’t notice, but of course his gaze snapped to her face. His eyes narrowed as he took in her tears.

“Shit, Samara, don’t cry.”

“I’m sorry. I never cry. Well, hardly ever.” She couldn’t wipe her face, and the wetness on her cheeks annoyed her. She sniffed again then lifted her chin and met his gaze head on.

“Travis.” Her voice came out sounding thick.

“Yeah?”

“If we make it out of here...” She swallowed. “If we make it out of here, I’ll go back to San Francisco.”

“What?” He stared at her.

A strand of her hair coming loose from her ponytail stuck on her wet cheek. Aaagh! She tried again to loosen her wrists to no avail. “You’ll be the CEO,” she continued, voice stronger. “You’re the best one to run the company, Travis. The only one. I can’t do it. Look what a mess I’ve made of things.”

Travis just kept looking at her, and his mouth softened.

“I’ll go back to San Francisco and be regional manager. I’ll keep working my way up.” A small smile tugged her mouth as she held his gaze. “Someday I’ll be back, and I’ll help run the company. But I know I have a lot to learn.”

“Samara.” His throat worked as he swallowed. “I don’t want you to go back to San Francisco.”

She blinked at him, her lower lip quivering.

Samara Hayden admitting that she’d screwed up made Travis feel like something had reached out and grabbed him by the throat. He couldn’t speak. He knew how hard it was for her to admit mistakes, how stubborn and determined she was. She’d wanted that job so badly; for her to back down now was huge. He tried to swallow, his throat feeling like dry coffee grounds.

He’d wanted the CEO job. Not that she’d been a serious threat; the entire executive team and all the shareholders were behind him, but just the fact that she was there and owned forty percent of the shares meant he had to share responsibility with her. But now he knew—he wanted to share responsibility with her. He wanted to share everything with her.

“I don’t want you to go back to San Francisco,” he said again. He shifted his weight and bounced the chair across the floor to be closer to her, stopping when they were knee to knee, face to face. This was important. They had to talk about this.

“We’ve been fighting about who’s going to take over. But it doesn’t have to be either or. Parker and I managed as a team, and you and I can do that too, Samara.”

She nodded slowly, eyes trained on his face, but said nothing.

“And not just that...I love you, Samara. I want you in my life.”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth trembled. “You do?”

“I do. I’ve always loved you. That was the other reason your father and I had a big fight seven years ago.”