This is the opening scene I have in mind when I first sat down to write this story; however upon the advice of my writing partner, beta readers, editor and finally my mother, I took it out and started with what was then chapter two. But, I always liked the idea of Katherine waking up to Santiago rescuing her….
The airport hangar
Yelling. Men’s voices. In distant muffled anger that came from far away, like through the end of a long tube, or from behind thick glass.
Katherine Alesander-Casey tried to open her eyes, but found her lids impossibly heavy. Pain streaked across her head as a sliver of light pierced its way through her lashes.
More yelling came at her. Spanish? Arabic maybe? Whichever, the level was piquing. Aggression or an explosion was bound to follow.
She tried to shift away from the sound, but her body resisted, her limbs weighted as if filled with lead. Panic crashed through her chest.
A door opened and she squinted at a dark figure that loomed over her. She opened her mouth to scream, but a feeble moan whimpered in her throat as a hand slid beneath her legs, and another beneath her back.
Only two people in the world said her name that way, the ‘i’ pronounced as a long ‘e’. Her grandmother and—
Him. Santiago James Ibarra. Dark. Terrible. Hot as sin.
“I am not here to hurt you. You are safe.”
The man hated her. She was anything but safe. Since the first day he laid eyes on her, and took the liberty to body search her when she arrived for her court appointed child supervision job, he looked at her like something old and foul found in the corner of a basement.
She tried, but couldn’t fight off his strong arms as he lifted her against his hard body. She tried to think, reconcile why his voice was warm and reassuring, soft even when normally he did nothing but grunt in her general direction.
“He is safe also.”
Thank God her young charge was safe. She was responsible for the four year old’s care while he visited his father, Malik. Her best friend, Molly, Tariq’s mother would absolutely kill her if she let anything happened to Tariq during one of these court appointed supervised visits.
A kaleidoscope of colours twirled behind her lids, and her mind clouded until she was sure she was floating. Only the feel of Santiago’s thick chest kept her grounded. White noise filled her ears. She couldn’t fall back asleep. She had to—
He was taking her somewhere. Not running, but moving swiftly. “What’s—happen—ing?” Her throat muscled squeezed her windpipe.
Car doors slammed. A huge engine rumbled nearby.
“It is okay. You are fine.” He pulled her close to his chest, the movement making her head flop into her crook of his steely shoulder.
She was in his arms, at his mercy. She was anything but fine. A wave a nausea rolled through her body.
The last thing she remembered was being in the limo. Tariq was safe beside her. They were on the way to his last court appointed supervised visit. She sipped the coffee that was offered to her, and looked out the window. Nothing unusual in any of that. Now, she had no idea where she was or what was happening.
Had there been an accident? No Santiago said she was fine, and that Tariq was fine.
She grit her teeth as her insides swished. She was going to be sick. Her stomach rolled and her mind detached from anything stable, allowing her to float away. Darkness hovered at the sides of her vision. A moan scratched across her throat.
“Almost there, Katrin.” Santiago’s voice came again, this time more distant, but still familiar. Her eyelids became heavier and her head more weighted. She balled her fingers, the only movement she could manage as her head zipped upwards, her thoughts pulled into a spiral vacuum.
“It is okay. Just sleep.” His lips touched her temple, and her heartbeat raced. “Trust me.”
Trust him!? She didn’t even like him…
The plot for Spanish Security came to me while I was on a supervised visit with my neighbour’s son and his father; I was the court appointed supervisor for the weekend visits. Very awkward.
However, as I sat there one day, I wondered what would happen if the father (he was kind of sketchy) bonked me on the head and I woke up in a closet or in some strange room on the other side of the world. Unlikely because he didn’t even have a bus pass.
But, I have a very wild and unnaturally creative imagination that borders on romantically psychotic, so the plot for Spanish Security unfolded in my mind as I sat through every visit.