“Carlos?” María José’s voice was tired and uncertain. “Where did you bring me?”
She seemed less surprised than him to wake up next to Carlos in an unfamiliar place. Carlos slowly turned to face her. He was hoping that by the time their eyes met, he would come up with some comforting explanation for why they were in Bangkok.
“Majo, darling…” Carlos began hesitantly.
“Oh, don’t even start,” the woman cut him off. “If you’re calling me sweet names after getting so fired up about Ted’s stolen notes, then I’d rather not even know.”
Groaning and huffing, she sat up and, as if nothing were more natural, headed to the bathroom. Carlos watched her, baffled. That’s it? The old lady doesn’t even glance out the window? She’s not even curious about this rundown room?
While María José took her sweet time in the shower, Carlos anxiously tried to piece together his last memory before waking up in the hotel. Who had he spoken to? Where exactly had he been? There had to be something—some clue.
The elderly pastry chef strolled out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her head. Without hesitation, she pulled open the bottom drawer and took out her clothes. Carlos felt his blood run cold. How did María José know her things were in there? And why wasn’t she panicking?
“What are you doing?” he asked in a dry tone.
“Getting dressed,” she replied matter-of-factly. “I’m not twenty anymore to be wandering around naked in front of you.”
“I mean,” Carlos cleared his throat, “how did you know your clothes were in the bottom drawer?”
María José shrugged.
“I didn’t. I just pulled one open and bingo.”
“And you’re not even surprised you woke up in a hotel room?”
“I already got over my shock earlier. I’m not happy I lost control like that yesterday, but I can’t change what happened now. Though,” she grimaced, “you could’ve picked a nicer place. Which part of the island are we on, anyway?”
Carlos narrowed his eyes, studying her wrinkled face. His neck tingled—the same way it always did when something didn’t feel right.
“When you’re ready, we’re leaving,” he said shortly.
“What time’s breakfast?” María José asked. “Though,” she added, disappointed, “I don’t feel great. What the hell did we drink at our age? My mouth’s so dry my tongue is stuck to the roof.”
Carlos was tempted to blurt out that it wasn’t the alcohol that knocked them out, but he just waved it off. He didn’t like the way the old woman was acting. She was taking the whole situation way too lightly. And that only made his suspicion grow—that maybe María José had a hand in his abduction.
At last, the woman stepped up to the window.
“Where the hell are we, Carlos?” María José exclaimed in shock as she yanked aside the worn curtain that was barely good enough to dim the sunlight.
Carlos was relieved. Still, the bad feeling and uncertainty lingered.
“Bangkok. Once you’ve pulled yourself together, we’re heading to the airport.”
“First, get me an ice-cold Coke. I’m not going anywhere until I get one,” she commanded firmly. She sat down on the bed with a defiant thud and crossed her legs.
A shadow passed over Carlos’s face again. He couldn’t figure out her behavior. He stared at his sulking, agitated lover for a while, then stepped out into the hallway. Either María José had no idea where Bangkok was, or she simply thought they’d ended up on a part of the island she didn’t know. Not that there was any place she hadn’t visited before. Most likely, the idea of having been drugged and kidnapped hadn’t even crossed the old woman’s mind.
Carlos didn’t like leaving her alone in the room, but his instincts told him there was no real danger. No one takes two old people to the other side of the world just to hurt them. They could’ve done that in his home. Someone just wanted to make him back off. But who?