by Bella King
“What are you doing?” I yelp, trying to get a hold of my seatbelt before I fly into his lap again.
“Sorry, lady, but I can’t talk now,” he says over the sound of the roaring engine.
“My name is Marybeth,” I remind him.
“Yeah, Marybeth, whatever.”
Blue lights flash behind us, a siren wails, and Rey curses under his breath.
Now I know that he’s up to no good, but just how bad of a guy have I come up against? Should I try to jump from the vehicle, or is it better for me to stay put until he lets me out?
I look behind us, digging my fingernails into the smooth leather on the back of the seat as I take in the image of three police cars trailing us. They take up the entire road, driving as aggressively as I’ve ever seen them drive in this town.
I look back at Rey. His large hands are gripping the steering wheel so hard that his knuckles look like they might pop. He wrings the leather in his hands, working it like it’s his only way out of this mess.
“I don’t want any part of this,” I say. “Take me back to work.”
“Too late, sweetheart. I’ll drop you off later,” he replies.
“No, drop me off now, or I’ll call the police,” I demand, pulling my cellphone from my front pocket.
The apples that were on my lap are now rolling all over the floor along with the bottle of water I bought for myself, and Rey shows no sign of slowing down.
“I mean it,” I say, unlocking my phone and starting to dial 911.
Rey continues to ignore my demands, unphased by my attempt to call the police. I guess with them right behind us, it doesn’t matter all that much if I call them. They’re already after him.
“I’m calling them,” I say, hovering my finger over the call button as though that will help me at all.
Rey glances at me and rolls down his window. The hot Texas air blows through the cabin, causing loose hairs to fly from my tight braids and stick to my face. I reach for them, holding my phone loosely as I try to unstick them from my lips.
Rey’s hand shoots out and snatches the phone from my hand. Before I can even react, he chucks it out the window.
I jerk my head around, looking through the back window to see it explode into bits of glass and plastic as it bounces across the hot asphalt. “What the fuck?” I exclaim, smacking his shoulder as he rolls the window back up.
“Shut up, and don’t distract me,” Rey growls, smoothing his disheveled brown hair back as the airflow in the cabin goes back to normal.
“You broke my phone,” I say, still in disbelief. “That was a whole six months of paychecks.”
“I said, shut up,” he growls again, raising his voice over the volume of the engine.
I twist around in my seat to look at the police cars behind us. They’re even closer now, and I’m surprised that they can keep up with Rey’s muscle car. He’s pushing ninety now, and they’re still gaining on us. These cops are willing to risk life and limb to catch Rey, but why?
“Why are they after you?” I ask, trying not to sound panicked. I don’t know how dangerous this guy is yet, and I want to keep my cool.
He shakes his head. “Stop asking questions.”
“I’m just trying to understand what’s going on,” I yell over the engine.
Rey ignores me, his pale blue eyes flickering back up to the rearview mirror again. “Fuck,” he mutters, pressing the gas pedal all the way to the floor.
The engine is so loud now that all I can hear is ringing. I cup my hands over my ears, trying to block out the roaring sound as I look back at the police cars falling behind. We’re getting away, but I don’t know if that’s a good thing.
Rey glances into the rearview again and chuckles, slumping his broad shoulders down into a more comfortable posture. His eyes crinkle into a smile beneath his bandana, and he looks toward me. “Those bastards will never get me with the outdated heaps of junk they drive.”
I don’t know what to say to him. He looks like he enjoys running from the police, as though he has done it before. He probably gets a rush from it, but I’m still confused as to why he felt the need to run in the first place.
“Tell me what the heck is going on,” I demand.
“Later,” Rey replies, keeping his foot on the gas.
“Now,” I say, slamming my fist against the dashboard.
“Don’t break the fucking car, bitch. I need this thing,” he growls, pushing my hand away from the dashboard.
“Really?” I say, a spiteful smirk spreading across my lips. “So, this probably isn’t good either, is it?” I ask, throwing my legs up and slamming them into the windshield.
Rey’s eyes bulge from their sockets as he tries to push my feet away from the glass while maintaining control of the car. He has to slow down to keep from swerving off the road. “Stop it,” he yells.
“Tell me what’s going on,” I repeat, slamming my feet into the glass again. It doesn’t break, but I’m sure a few more times will do the trick.
“Jesus Christ, fine,” he says, shaking his head. “Just keep your damn feet down, would you?”
I smile, pleased to have gotten my way.
Rey runs his hand through his hair, the faded tattoos on his arms glistening under a thin layer of sweat. He looks more annoyed than I am, even though I’m the one who is being taken captive against my will.
“Fuck, you’re a real pest, you know that?” He asks. “I shouldn’t have picked you up in the first place.”
“I’m didn’t ask you to kidnap me. You could’ve dropped me back off at work,” I reply, heat rushing to my face. He acts like this is my fault.
Rey chuckles. “I guess I am kidnapping you, aren’t I? I mean, why not? Everything else has gone to hell anyway. I might as well add that to my list of crimes.”
“Are you an outlaw or something?” I ask, scooting away from him and pressing my body against the door.
“Sort of,” he replies.
“That sounds a lot like yes.”
“Because it is.”
I eye Rey suspiciously, pulling my feet up to my chest and wrapping my arms around them.
“Don’t go kicking the window again, or I’ll really make your life miserable,” he warns.
“I wasn’t going to,” I reply, tightening the grip around my legs. There’s no telling what a man like him can do to a woman like me. He has all the power, and nobody even knows where I am.
Rey doesn’t speak again as we drive, but he keeps his bandana on, still covering his identity. I try to figure out why he looks so familiar. Have I seen him on TV before or something?
“Who are you?” I finally ask, rocking forward and letting go of my legs.
He pulls down his red bandana, revealing a stubble-laden, scarred up, square chin that could only belong to the infamous Rey Del Desierto – The Desert King.
Chapter Six
Rey
Marybeth’s shocked expression was almost worth the trouble of having her along for the ride. Her pupils are as wide as if she had just done a line of my best cocaine, and her puffy little lips are parted in the most exquisite way. I imagine she looks the same when she cums.
“You surprised to see me?” I ask with a laugh.
She nods, staring at me with an open mouth for an uncomfortably long time.
“Could you close your mouth? You’re creeping me the fuck out,” I say, waving my hand at her jaw.
Her mouth snaps shut. “Sorry.”
I shake my head, focusing on the road ahead. I’m not going to be able to turn off for a while since there aren’t any connecting roads, and I’m sure the police are still on our tail. We’re not stopping until we’re far out of town.
“You’re in the cartel,” Marybeth states, as though I didn’t know it.
“No… Really?” I reply sarcastically.
She nods, and I roll my eyes. “Yeah, of course, I’m in the cartel. You said you knew who I was.”
“Everyone knows you. Your poste
rs are up all over town.” She frowns. “But wait a minute. I thought you were in jail.”
“Was,” I say, grabbing my drink again and twisting off the cap. I’m thirsty just thinking about that dried-up shithole.
“So, they let you out?” she asks.
I eject a mist of Sprite from my mouth as I burst out laughing. “Jesus Christ, woman. There’s not a whole lot going on in that little head of yours, is there?”
“Don’t talk to me like that, asshole,” she hisses. “I asked you a question.”
“A dumb one,” I reply.
She scoffs. “You don’t have to be rude about it,” she says, but her tone returns to curiosity as she continues. “Did you escape from jail then?”
“Yeah,” I say, taking another sip. “I escaped.”
“Wow,” she says, looking up at me like I’m her hero or something.
What the fuck is wrong with this woman?
I clear my throat, twisting the lid back on my bottle and placing it down again. “You’re a curious girl, ain’t you?”
She shrugs. “More like bored. Nothing ever happens around here.”
“Well, this ain’t no movie,” I say, shaking my head. “This is real life, and you’re in real danger if you piss me off, you hear?”
She clasps her hands together in her lap and nods, her eyes still enormous. “You probably should let me out here, then. I don’t want to be an annoyance to you.”
“Too late,” I grumble.
“You’re going to keep me here?” she asks, the first sign of genuine fear gracing her voice. She’s been holding it together pretty well considering her circumstances, but this is where it ends. If she gets crazy, I’m going to have to deal with her.
I sigh. “Marybeth, I’m sure you’re not interested in coming along with me, but the truth is, you don’t have a choice right now. The police are too close, and if I drop you off here, the vultures will be on you in less than a half-hour.”
“The police will pick me up,” she says.
I shake my head at her naivety. “They’ll drive right past you, my dear. You’re not their target.”
“But I know the sheriff. His name is Wesley, and he always helps me out when I–”
I slam my hand down on the dashboard. “Dammit, Marybeth, they’re not going to get you, alright? You’re going to turn into a smoldering pile of bones out here within the hour. Nobody is coming for you. Nobody.”
She falls silent, biting her lower lip. She looks like she might cry, but that’s better than her constant questions.
I can’t stand to have someone interrogate me. I had enough of that from the cops who put me in jail six months ago. They want you to think that you have something to be ashamed of, that you should come clean, but they don’t follow the laws either. I know for a fact that those fuckers stole my cocaine and sold it on the streets themselves.
Marybeth’s sad face changes back into one of frustration. “So, you’re not going to let me go?” she asks.
“I haven’t decided what I’m going to do with you yet. Why don’t you eat your food while I try to figure this out?” I reply, staring hard at the increasingly narrow road ahead.
“I’ve lost my appetite,” she snaps, as though that will make me feel bad.
I laugh. “Fine.”
“I thought you would be uglier,” she says, switching the subject faster than I can follow.
“What?” I ask, bewildered by her comment.
“Yeah, but your eyes are the same as the pictures,” she says, tilting her head to the side and studying my face.
“I’m not ugly,” I grumble.
“I never said you were,” she replies. “I just figured the picture they kept using for your wanted poster was a particularly good angle. I thought a cartel boss would be more… unsavory in real life.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you calling me handsome?”
I can see her face turning pink out of the corner of my eye, but she’s the one who started this. She didn’t have to say a goddamn thing about my appearances, but she opened that door and embarrassed herself.
“I just don’t think you’re all that bad looking,” she says in a weak attempt to sidestep my question.
But I know the truth. Many women have fallen for me in the past, but absolutely none have lasted longer than a few days in my company. There’s a reason for that. I’m brutal, rude, and the life I live is perilous. Most people don’t care for that.
“So, you’re really not going to let me go?” Marybeth asks, refusing to shut up.
I sigh. “No, and if you keep asking, I’m never going to let you go.”
Chapter Seven
Marybeth
If Rey isn’t going to let me go, I’m going to have to think of a way to escape from him. I should’ve known something was up the second I got into his car and saw the bandana covering his face, but I’m too trusting, and now I’m trapped with him in a red Mustang, cruising down a country road to an unknown location.
I grab one of the apples rolling around at my feet and clean it off on my shirt. It doesn’t do much good because I’m covered in dust, but there’s no telling what a cartel boss has had in his car.
“How did you escape from jail?” I ask, taking a bite of my apple and spraying a thin spritz of juice across the dashboard.
Rey smirks. “I have connections.”
“In prison?”
“In prison, outside of prison… I have connections in the government too, but those are secret.”
“I doubt that anyone from the government would trust you,” I say, studying his tattooed arms and hands.
“They don’t have to trust me. They just have to like money. Everyone has a price,” he explains.
“Not everyone.”
He turns his head to me, his eyes scanning my body with uncomfortable scrutiny. He nods. “Yes, everyone has a price.”
I recoil. “I don’t have a price, and my father never did either. He’s a pastor, and we’re both good people.”
“What about your mother?” he asks, a grin stretching across his face. “You didn’t mention her.”
I press my lips together hard, looking away from him. My mother is a subject I’d rather not talk about, especially not when her actions fall uncomfortably close to what’s happening to me now.
“Not everyone has a price,” I repeat, if only to convince myself that it’s true.
“Everyone does, Marybeth. It’s a fact of life. Accept it.”
I take another bite of my apple, crunching on it angrily. I don’t want to think about my mother, or why she would leave my father for a man not all that dissimilar to Rey. My father was heartbroken, but then again, maybe he should’ve acted differently. There’s a reason we don’t talk anymore.
“The world is pretty big outside of your little Texas town,” Rey continues. “You should get out more.”
“I’ve been out of Texas,” I say, eager to prove myself to him. He seems to think that I’m some kind of brainless smalltown girl, but I’m not. I have life experience, just nothing illegal.
Rey chuckles. “To Oklahoma or something?”
“I’ve been to New Mexico a few times,” I reply, “My Aunt lives there,”
“Same thing. You’ve never been out of the south,” he says, shaking his head.
“Well, I was going to maybe move to California or something once I had the money to.”
“Is that where your daddy is?”
“No,” I snap. “He’s in Texas.”
Rey raises an eyebrow. “Then, why California?”
“I want to see the beach,” I reply, looking out the window at the lonely desert highway in front of us. There’s not a single drop of water out here for miles. I’d love to get away from it all, at least for a while.
“The beaches get old after a while,” he says. “Maybe you’d like to come to Canada with me. You can think of it as a nice little vacation.”
I frown. “I don’t want to go on vacation with you.
You’re an outlaw.”
“Oh, come on. You don’t like me?” he asks, a playful tone overtaking his deep voice.
“I don’t know you,” I say, taking another bite of my apple and pulling my legs back to my chest in a defensive posture. I had almost forgotten that he kidnapped me. Why is it so easy to get lost in conversation with such a dangerous man?
“You shouldn’t put your shoes on the seat. You’re getting it dirty,” Rey says, reaching out and trying to push my feet off the edge of the white leather.
I swat his hand away. “Don’t touch me.”
He laughs. “Maybe you’d like that.”
“Fuck you,” I snarl.
“Maybe you should,” he replies with a crooked smile and a glint of something suggestive in his eyes. “It would make this trip a lot more bearable if you did.”
“Fuck you?” I ask, crossing my arms and scoffing at him. “In your dreams.”
“You’ll probably change your mind,” he says with a shrug.
I don’t appreciate his cockiness. When I say no, it’s because I mean it. No amount of his suggestive comments will change my mind, especially since he pulled me into a huge mess, and he’s holding me prisoner.
“Just don’t touch me,” I remind him as I reach into the red and white bag resting next to his drink between us. Rey hasn’t eaten his fries yet, and their greasy goodness is begging me to give up on the apples and fill my stomach with junk food. I’m stressed, and when I’m stressed, I eat.
“Just make yourself comfortable then, I guess,” Rey says, his voice passive, almost dismissive.
“If you’re going to keep my locked up in here for the rest of the day, then yeah, I am going to make myself comfortable,” I say, shoving the fries into my mouth.
I slide my finger alongside the edge of the door, feeling for the window switch and pressing it. The window rolls down, dry, hot air rushing into the cabin.
“Hey, what are you doing?” Rey asks, jerking his head toward me.
“Relax,” I reply, tossing my apple core out of the window before rolling it back up. “I’m not going to jump out of the car when we’re going this fast.”