The Leader's Girl

8. Mexico City

My voice was laced with disbelief and anger as I snarled at Jones, "You've got to be kidding me. How did you even know I was here?"

He remained in the same position, blocking the entrance with his formidable figure and oversized ego. "It doesn't take much to get the police on your side in this country."

"You paid them off," I accused, my frustration bubbling up inside.

His voice remained calm and collected as he replied, "You could say they get compensated well for turning a blind eye." Slowly, his steps brought him closer to where I sat with my head resting in my hands.

"I like your spirit though. At least Reed taught you something," he added, his tone dripping with condescension.

I couldn't help but shoot him a glare from behind my hands as I asked the question that had been plaguing me since I woke up in this unfamiliar place. "Does he know I'm alive?"

Jones confirmed my fears with his cold answer, "He does. And he knows what he needs to do to get you out of this."

My frustration reached its peak and I couldn't hold back my sardonic retort, "And what's that?"

"That's between me and him," he replied cryptically.

I scoffed at his words, realizing that there were no easy solutions or ways out of this situation. But then an idea struck me - if I wanted to survive and make it back home in one piece, I needed to make a deal with the devil standing before me.

I took a deep breath and broke the tense silence that had settled between us, my eyes locked onto his intense gaze. "Okay, I'll stop fighting," I said slowly, weighing each word carefully, "but I want something from you in return."

My heart raced as I faced off against the man in front of me, realizing that I was in no position to negotiate. But my pride wouldn't let him see that. "You can't bribe everyone," I challenged, trying to appear confident.

He chuckled at my statement, thoroughly amused. "Humor me," he replied, his voice dripping with condescension.

"I want to talk to him," I insisted, my worry for Mason growing by the second. He had only been sober for a little over a year and I didn't know how he would handle this situation.

The man's eyes searched mine, searching for any signs of weakness. I held my ground, determined not to back down.

"Fine," he finally relented after what felt like an eternity of silence, "it might actually help me get what I want quicker."

I was surprised by his willingness to cooperate, but also wary of his intentions.

"But you should know," he spoke carefully, pulling a phone from his pocket and extending it towards me, "telling him where you are will be futile."

Ignoring his warning, I snatched the phone from his hand and quickly dialed Mason's number which I had memorized years ago. The phone rang three times before he picked up on the fourth ring, his voice filled with anger and concern. "If this is you again, you low life, I'm gonna fucking kill-"

"Mason," I blurted out, cutting off his threat, "it's me."

His tone softened immediately upon hearing my voice. "Ali?" he said my name with disbelief and relief evident in his tone. "Are you okay? Tell me where you are."

I glanced back at Jones who stood behind me watching intently. Turning away from him, I answered Mason's question with careful words. "It doesn't matter where I am right now."

"What do you mean it doesn't matter?" Mason's voice was urgent now, "what do you see or hear? Did he hurt you?"

I wanted to tell him everything, but I knew it would only worry and anger him more. "I'm okay, Mase," I reassured him with a gentle tone, trying to keep the panic out of my voice. "Just give him what he wants and he'll let me go." My words were meant for both Mason and Jones, hoping that they would both listen and end this dangerous game.