Prologue #2
The cold air bit at my skin but I ignored it, refusing to shiver, pretending like I was fully dressed. Hunger stabbed at my ribs and I closed my eyes, imagining a big sandwich sat in front of me. I refused to ask for anything, refused to let them think I wanted anything from them.
I lost count of how many sixties had passed when the door opened and a short, heavyset man appeared with a bag in one hand and a Styrofoam box in the other. He dropped it all on the floor with a grunt and exited without a word.
I took a hesitant step forward and then another until the loot sat at my feet.
I dug into the bag first, pulling out leggings, sneakers, and a gray sweatshirt, slipping them on like a second skin.
My body relaxed a little but not enough to stop the tension coiling in my muscles.
The box contained food, chicken, beans, and black rice.
I ate the rice and beans, left the chicken in sauce where it was.
I needed energy but a clear head and I trusted the dry rice and beans as much as I could trust anything.
When the sun went down, I heard voices and that was when the real fear set in. Diego Ruiz wasn’t just a criminal, he was second in command for the Sombra Negra cartel.
A fucking cartel lieutenant.
When Diego returned to my room that night, my blood ran a little colder and I held my body stiffer.
He didn’t tear my clothes off the second night, he slowly undressed me and then himself, and then I focused on that stain, slipped through the imaginary door and I didn’t return until I was alone again.
The third time he came inside, I wasn’t sure if it was the same day or the next, but he made me undress myself and him. “On your knees,” he commanded.
I obeyed because I didn’t have a choice. Because I knew he was a terrible man who did terrible things. Because I didn’t have an exit plan worked out.
Yet.
Time and time again, Diego stepped inside and took what wasn’t his before leaving me in the silence and the filth.
Once a day his man brought me food that smelled incredible, but I survived on a diet of rice and beans only, too paranoid to eat anything else.
My logic was faulty, but I needed to eat.
“You’re mine,” he said the fourth time. And every time after that.
I wasn’t his and I never would be.
If I didn’t find a way out soon, I would take the only way out that was left to me.
***
There’s this thing that happens when you’re stripped of all sense of time and place, where time drags and flies at the same time.
Despite my best efforts to stay awake, there were times exhaustion took over, and my eyes slid closed here and there, which only further skewed my sense of the present.
One time I woke up, and it was light outside but the house and the block beyond were quiet like it was early morning.
Another time it was night, but it sounded like the world was awake.
And then nighttime came and stayed for what felt like an entire week.
I had no idea how long I’d actually been in that room, but I knew at least three days had come and gone. I knew that Diego had entered the room eleven times.
Eleven fucking times.
The twelfth time, was etched into my memory. The stocky man arrived with more food and my backpack. My heart hitched at the sight of the familiar bag, unzipped and rifled through, but mine. “Thank you,” I said softly, hating how fucking grateful I sounded for my own belongings.
Some things just never change, I thought, remembering the half-dozen times I’d packed up and moved to a new home during my short stint in foster care.
The man said nothing.
“Do you know what day it is or how long I’ve been here?”
His gaze met mine, dark and blank. And utterly fucking silent.
“Great. Thanks for nothin’.” I stared him down while he set down the takeout box of food and my backpack, slowly backing out of the room like he thought I might make a move.
Not fucking likely.
I closed my eyes and waited for the snick of the lock but it never came.
My eyes shot open and my heart raced as I looked around the room, certain I was being pranked.
When nothing happened, I fell to my knees and opened the backpack, but of course my cell phone wasn’t in there.
“Dammit,” I whispered, finding everything else—notebooks, sketchbook, heels, water, and granola bars—inside. Just not my phone.
The door opened quickly and I fell backward in my rush to get away from certain danger.
“Oh, sorry,” the familiar voice said.
“Lewis? What are you doing here?” A horrible thought occurred and I slid back until my head hit the windowsill. Lewis, my kind boss… Why was he here? Did he know Diego was holding me? Had he known all along? “Lewis?” My voice cracked on his name, accusation bleeding into the words.
He stopped dead, the color draining from his face as his eyes locked on me—really locked on me.
“What—” He looked over his shoulder, then back at me like he couldn’t make sense of what he was seeing.
“What are you doing here? I’ve been calling you for a week.
” His voice rose on the last word, thin and tight.
My eyes bugged out. “A week? I’ve been in here a week?” The room tilted. “It feels like it’s been longer. Or shorter. I don’t—” My stomach churned and suspicion crept in despite myself. “You’ve been calling? Why?”
“Because you disappeared,” he shot back, horror sharpening his tone. “Because you didn’t show up for work. Because you don’t just vanish.” He ran a shaking hand over his mouth, staring at the bruises on my arms like they were something he’d done himself.
“Why are you here?” I pressed, my heart hammering. “Did he call you? Did you know?”
He recoiled like I’d slapped him. “Know?” His voice dropped, rough and disbelieving. “Know that he—” He glanced around the room, taking it in fully now—the barred window, the mattress, me. His face twisted. “Jesus.”
I swallowed. “Your client, Diego, kidnapped me when I left the grocery store the last time we saw each other.”
His eyes widened with something far stronger than surprise—rage and fear tangling together.
“He what?” The words came out strangled.
“Ah, hell.” He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw flexing hard.
“I knew he was trouble, but this—” He exhaled sharply, almost a shudder.
“I am so sorry.” He sounded wrecked, and any suspicions I had about his involvement vanished.
But that still didn’t change my predicament.
And now that Lewis had seen me, he would be in danger too.
“I’ll get you out of here,” he said, opening his eyes again. There was no hesitation now, just grim resolve.
Hope leapt in my chest. “Really?”
“Of course.” His voice was fierce, low. “I should’ve trusted my gut.
I should’ve made you leave the office when he came in with those eyes.
I should’ve—” He cut himself off and raked a hand through his thinning hair.
It trembled. “I’m parked near the side entrance, you’re directly above.
If you can get out the window it gives you about a six-foot jump. Think you can handle that?”
“Considering this might be my only chance, yeah. I can.”
He nodded, but he didn’t move right away. His eyes lingered on me before he slowly started backing out of the room. “I’m sorry,” he said again, rougher this time.
I held up a hand, though it trembled. “Not your fault,” I said, then couldn’t stop myself. “But it might’ve been helpful to know you were working for a cartel.”
His jaw tightened. “I wasn’t working for a cartel,” he shot back under his breath, glancing down the hall. Then, more grudgingly, “I didn’t have much choice.”
That didn’t answer the question.
“Keys are in the ignition,” he said, and pulled the door shut behind him.
“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” Diego’s voice boomed inside the quiet house.
There was a long beat before Lewis answered. “I grabbed the wrong folder. You said your jefe wanted to see quarterly reports and these are just earnings.”
“Hurry the fuck up. I have plans.”
A shiver stole down my spine, certain I was the plans he spoke of.
I finally got to my feet and turned to face the window, risking a peek outside.
Lewis’ gray-green minivan sat beneath the window, about a six-foot drop just as he said.
I clenched my jaw tight and exhaled through my nose, prepping myself for what needed to be done.
You can do this. You have to do this.
I moved slowly, flipping the lock on the tiny window, gripping the edge, and slowly pushing it open. I closed my eyes and waited for horns and sirens to sound, some kind of security measure to keep me locked inside. Nothing happened and I pushed the window open as far as it would go.
“I’ll just leave the keys,” Lewis said just loud enough to be heard before he shuffled back inside.
This is it.
The window was small as fuck, but I managed to shimmy through with my ass perched on the edge. One wrong move and I’d fall, probably killing myself on top of Lewis’ car. I silently counted to three before I inhaled deeply and jumped on the exhale. I groaned when I landed on top of the minivan.
I rolled to one side and fell off the damn roof, straight onto the gravel filled driveway. It hurt like hell, but I scrambled to my feet, staying low as I slid behind the steering wheel and started the engine. Before I could second guess anything, I shifted gears and stepped on the gas.
I turned right just as the front door opened and Lewis rushed out. “Hey! That’s my car!” he shouted half-heartedly.
Indecision warred within me but ultimately, I slowed down, urging him to run faster. Diego appeared and acid settled in my gut. “Hurry,” I mouthed the words as Diego produced a gun and took aim—at me or Lewis, I wasn’t sure—before he squeezed the trigger.
Lewis froze, his eyes wide with fear and shock before he fell to his knees, blood blooming on the front of his shirt.
“Lewis!” I shouted as he fell face first onto the concrete.
“You’re mine, bitch!” Diego’s face was red and angry. His gun aimed at me.
I pressed the gas again and took off. I risked a quick stop at my apartment to grab a few things I wanted with me—photos of me and my best friend I hadn’t seen in a decade, important documents and one change of clothes—and I started driving again until Birmingham became Montgomery, stopping at ATMs along the way until my checking account was empty.
I had to call Lewis’ wife, offering a quick explanation of everything on the off-chance she knew who her husband’s clients were.
“He tried to save me and I feel so bad about that, but you need to know. Just in case.” It was less than she deserved, but I couldn’t stand still too long.
I had a hundred bucks in my backpack plus all the cash from the ATM, it totaled a little over three grand. It wasn’t much but it would get me out of Alabama without leaving a trace.
I hopped on the first Greyhound that left the bus terminal and took it until the driver said I had to get off.
It was time to start over.
Again.