Stealing Beauty (Stolen 1)

Concern flared through the exhaustion that fogged my mind, but my tension melted when his calloused fingers began to play through my hair. He’d done this when we were teenagers, touching me with something between reverence and obsession. I didn’t know why he was petting me now, but I couldn’t focus.

In a matter of minutes, fatigue pulled me under, and I fell asleep in my captor’s arms.Chapter 6Valentina“Do we need to stop at the D.A.S. to get the passports stamped?” Adrián addressed Mateo as we stepped off the dirty boat that had brought us to Capurganá. It had been a long day already—we’d left Medellín at five AM to sneak down the bus route to Necoclí in our car. After nine straight hours of driving, we’d abandoned the car at the docks, and Adrián had secured our passage to Capurganá. While the speed boat had gotten us to our destination in less than two hours, I felt as though I’d been traveling for days.

I stifled a yawn and tried to focus on what Mateo was saying. The more information I had to work with, the better.

“No,” he answered Adrián. “We got U.S. passports, so we’ll have less trouble at the Panama border. When I got the fakes, I made sure they included exit stamps from Capurganá dated for today. We’ll be fine to catch a boat to Puerto Obaldía in the morning. For now, we need to find somewhere to spend the night.”

“I don’t like it.” Adrián’s hand tightened around mine as he led me off the dock and into the small village. “We’re right on the edge of the Darién. BACRIM could be close, and they might be loyal to my father.”

I shivered at the prospect of facing BACRIM, bandas criminales—paramilitary groups that infested the Darién Gap. They trafficked drugs, weapons, and people through the lawless jungle. Many of them did work for Vincente and Hugo, moving their cocaine from Colombia into Panama.

“They might be loyal to you, Adrián,” Mateo pointed out. “Especially for the right price.”

Adrián shook his head. “I’m not in a strong position here. My personal contacts start in Mexico. And that fucker Caesar Hernández might be making trouble for us at home in California. We need to get back as quickly as possible to keep him from making a power play of his own.”

I didn’t know who they were talking about, but I listened intently. No one around us was close enough to overhear their conversation, but I hung on to every word.

“All right, then,” Mateo agreed. “It’s just one night here in Capurganá. Tomorrow, we’ll be in Panama. We’ll keep pretending to be tourists to get past border security in Puerto Obaldía, so we’ll have to sail out to the San Blas Islands. Once we get to El Porvenir, we can fly into Panama City, and then, it’s easy to get back to California.”

“Easy,” Adrián grunted. “The longer I’m away from home, the more time Hernández has to decide to betray me and side with my father. He’s been itching to push me out and take the territory for himself ever since I was eighteen.”

“If he’s put so much as a toe out of line in our absence, I’ll make sure he pays,” Mateo promised grimly.

Adrián nodded, accepting his friend’s savage declaration. Neither man asked my opinion or glanced in my direction as we walked into town. The only thing that kept me from feeling like I was nothing more to them than an apparition was Adrián’s firm hold on my hand. He hadn’t released me since we’d abandoned the car in Necoclí. My chances of slipping away were zero, even if they acted as though my presence was of no consequence.

I now had a piece of vital information: Mateo had procured a U.S. passport for me, and it was already stamped with approval for me to leave Colombia. The men planned to take me to Panama and then on to California. But if I could get my hands on that passport and some cash, I could make my own way. I was fluent in English, and I’d be able to pass myself off as first generation Colombian-American. I’d be able to get to Chicago and find my brothers.

I was sure Andrés would keep me safe, and I was fairly certain that Cristian would reclaim me as family to deliver a blow to the Rodríguez cartel.

I remained silent as Adrián led me through the dusty cobbled streets. Single-story, neon-painted buildings with thatched roofs surrounded us on either side. The overall impression of the town was ramshackle, but the bright colors and grinning shopkeepers were cheery enough. Bordered on three sides by dense jungle, Capurganá could only be reached by boat. The Caribbean Sea peeked between the buildings in flashes of incandescent blue, my only escape route calling me back as Adrián pulled me farther away from the harbor.