“Mrs. Michaelson. I’m not an enemy. I am going to get you back to your family. Please believe that and cooperate with Rocco. Consider Rocco to be your protector. Understand?”
“Uh… all right,” I croaked out, stupefied.
He continued, “You’ll be driven to my property and I am reaching out to your brothers through a mutual acquaintance. You’ll be made comfortable until they can arrive.”
Oh, thank God. Thank the good sweet Lord above. Relief washed over me, through me. Tears pricked my eyes.
Wait. What if he was lying? I fought to find words but stupidly just held the phone.
Please don’t let this be a lie.
“I’m being completely honest,” he assured. “If you want to increase the chances of being able to get to your home and your two sons, you’ll cooperate.”
“I will,” I replied, worried that he knew I had two sons. Was this a threat? Was I being ransomed? Or was this guy a friend to my family?
“I’m glad to hear that. Pass the phone to Rocco, please.”
“Okay.”
I handed it back to the suited guy.
What must have been many hours later, many hours of driving in silence, we were entering the gates of what looked like a very large residence, an estate, really. I’d nodded off over and over, fighting sleep most of the way there.
At one point, Rocco said, “Nothing is going to happen to you if you allow yourself to sleep.” As kind as he’d seemed when he said it, nothing would make me trust that, even if I wanted to. My body just kept jolting every time I’d drift off.
Finally, we had arrived. I sat up straighter as the gates swung closed behind us.
I silently prayed that things weren’t about to get worse.
***
I was ushered, by Rocco, to a comfortable guest room in a very lavish mansion, where I sat on a bed. A handsome man in a suit came in with a woman in blue scrubs.
He had thick dark hair, lots of it, and a stubbled jaw. He was very handsome. He belonged on an Armani billboard in Times Square in that tailored suit, his hair all messy-perfect. His dark eyes assessed me, “I’m Alessandro. First, your brothers are being contacted today to arrange for you to be returned to them. Can you tell me what happened to you?”
I stared blankly for a second.
“Let me see that arm?” The lady in scrubs cut in with a heavy accent.
“Will you allow Jimena to check your arm? She’s a doctor,” he asked.
I lifted my arm, offering it to her and she moved closer. I looked at Alessandro as she unwound the bandage. He had the angriest eyes I think I’d ever seen. When he saw my arm, they went even angrier.
I glanced down at my arm and saw the horrible lettering I’d seen each time the bandage had been changed in the past few days, which had at least been often. Those nasty nurses were doing their best. I guess. This time I saw what the lettering actually said.
“Am I in Mexico?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“I was taken from my car, put in some kind of video auction.”
“Did anyone touch you sexually? There or before that?” he asked me. His English wasn’t broken, nor was it heavily accented.
I stiffened and looked down at my hands on my lap.
“Yes.” I said in a small voice without making eye contact.
The doctor was applying ointment to my arm.