Chapter Two
Present Day
Tonya snorts another line up her nose, and I wonder if this will be the one to kill her.
She’s thin. Frail. So damn skinny, if the wind blows hard enough, she may snap in two.
She smiles at me with her crooked teeth dancing around our shared room in her underwear. She’s a ghastly sight. A ghost wearing skin.
The drugs are killing her.
This place.
The men.
She’s too soft for this world.
Breaks my heart. She’s only been here about two years.
She’s not a lifer like me.
I’ve been here so long I don’t remember there being anything else.
Guns. Drugs. Money. Powerful men. Lust. Sex. Desire.
Pain. So much pain.
That’s what I know.
My innocence was bought and paid for.
My father sold me to Cookie’s pimp, who sold me to the cartel.
That’s the bitter truth.
I belong to no one and to everyone.
I’m theirs to play with.
Theirs to use.
I’m not the first, but one day I intend to be the last.
One day I will break free.
One day I will kill them all.
There’s a knock at our door.
Tonya continues to spin in circles, living in her own little fucked-up world. Sometimes I envy her ability to pretend…to forget.
“Boss wants to see you,” a foot soldier tells me.
Most of the time I don’t bother to learn anyone’s names. They don’t last long enough to care.
Emotions have no place in this life.
In this prison I call home.
The armed man can’t be much older than sixteen.
He’s just a child, really.
Not that it matters.
He sees serving the Juarez brothers as an honor.
I see it as a death sentence.
Over the years, I’ve watched many come through these gates. It’s like that song Hotel California. Once you check in, you can never leave.
I give it a week, if that, before he’s dead.
When I first arrived here, I didn’t understand the blind loyalty, but I learned fast because I wanted to survive. Despite all the bad, I have an unyielding will to live. Maybe it’s my punishment for some wrong I did in a previous life.
Whatever the reason, I’ve learned to adapt.
To do whatever it takes to make it one more day.
Because Hector and Javi dangle the one thing I can’t resist over me like a carrot to a rabbit.
The dream of being reunited with my child someday.
He or she is about five years old.
I’ve never held them, but I love them.
I’ve only heard them cry once.
The night they were born.
It’s a sound that haunts me.
I won’t be like my mother or my father.
I will never abandon my child even if they don’t know I exist.
The boy shoves me through the door to Hector’s bedroom.
His newest mistress kneels at his feet in tears. Her dark hair hangs around her like a curtain, but I can hear the quiet sobs rattling in her chest.
I don’t know her name either.
She won’t last long enough for it to matter.
They never do.
He likes them young, docile, and fertile.
Once she’s pregnant, he’ll ship her off to the baby farm.
When the child is born, it will be adopted, be trained to be a future soldier, or go to the Lamb Society. None of these futures are promising.
Hector promises that my child is being cared for in an orphanage and that when I’ve earned out my contract, he’ll give me custody.
I don’t truly believe that, but I keep doing anything he asks of me. Anything to get closer to the truth of where my baby is.
“You sent for me?” I ignore the woman. I know better than to acknowledge her or offer her any comfort.
“Seems this one is lacking.” He licks his lips as he fists his dick. “Come. Show her how it’s done.”
Twisting the hair tie off my wrist, I wrap it around my hair, making a ponytail. Sadly, I know Hector’s preferences. I go to my knees and spit on the bulbous head, then lick my palm.
I close my eyes and take him into my mouth, hating the bitter taste of his flesh on my tongue. In my head, I’m imagining sinking my teeth into him and biting, ripping his appendage from his body like a feral beast. I don’t do that though.
I can’t.
Not yet.
Not until I know where my kid is.
I perform like a good slut. Moaning on cue. Praising the man like he’s some sort of God when we all know he’s not even close.
I stroke and pump as I lick and suck.
His grip on my ponytail tightens.
I take him to the back of my throat and play with his balls.
“Fuck, pequena flor. Fuck.” He groans, spurting hot ropes of semen onto my tongue while his little bitch watches. At least her tears have stopped. I hate it when they cry.
The tears won’t save her.
Only condemn her. He gets off on the pain.
He grabs her forcefully, digging his fingers into her chin. “Open your mouth,” he tells her, then looks at me. “Spit,” he orders.
I do as he says. I spit his cum into her mouth like a bird feeding her baby. It’s vile. Disgusting. The act makes me want to vomit, and I will. Just not in front of him.
“Now swallow,” he commands.
I know what’s coming. I go sideways as she throws up all over his shoes.
His hand flies back, then whips across her cheek. “?Qué le pasa a esa perra estúpida?”
What’s wrong with that stupid bitch, he questions, but I don’t answer.
“My precious flower,” Javi coos, pinching my chin, his rancid breath washing over my face. “You better watch your back with the Kings. They’ll pluck every petal from your pretty little stem.”
I roll my eyes at the asshole. The Kings I can handle. Having to smell his breath, however…
“You know.” His fingers dance along my shoulder. His touch makes my skin crawl. “I could make a request to keep you here.”
I shudder at the thought of spending one more second with him.
He’s a low-level thug.
A nobody.
A sorry-assed lackey who will die soon enough.
Men like him don’t last long. He’s my fifth handler this year.
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about the men in charge, it’s that they don’t do any favors. Asking for one will be a death sentence. I should encourage him to try, but knowing my luck, it’d be the one time they grant an allowance.
He ties a tourniquet around my arm.
I know the drill. There’s no use in fighting it.
My body craves the dope he injects into my veins.
Every time he does, I pray the dose will be fatal. Will end my miserable life.
I never get my wish.
The roar of motorcycles outside the gate means it’s nearly time.
I’m getting out of this godforsaken place.
After twelve years, I’m going home.
Returning stateside.
I’ve earned it, but there’s only one way I will ever truly be free.
Javi’s walkie-talkie crackles, and I take that as my cue to get into position. Hector loves to show off.
Money.
Cars.
Women.
He thinks he’s royalty.
His brother is even worse.
Jose tugs on the collar of his ridiculous silk shirt. Looking like he stepped off the set of a drug lord movie set in Miami.
The dope kicks in, but it’s only enough to keep me in line.
Functioning.
Tomorrow will be a different story.
I’ll be sick.
But that’s all part of Hector’s plan.
I stand around with the rest of his flock while he meets with Big Daddy, the president of Kings of Anarchy MC. I’ve spent the past three months studying files on him and his men.
Next to him sits his VP. A guy who goes by the road name Hero. He’s cute, but he’s involved with Big Daddy’s niece and he’s not my target.
I dig my fingernails into the palms of my hands, making indentations. Nearly drawing blood as I recall the past few months and all I’ve learned.
Preparing for the task I’ve been assigned.
Get in with the motorcycle club. Earn their trust in any way I can and report back to Hector and Jose. I’ve been playing my part, like a good soldier. This is my ticket out of here.
This isn’t the first time they’ve asked me to gather intel on a business partner. This is, however, the first time I’ll be doing it outside of this estate. Away from the watchful eyes of their men.
Sure, there will be men in Anarchy who report to Hector and Jose, but this is a long game.
I have no plans of giving the Juarez brothers any information they can truly use.
By the time they figure out I’m wasting their time, I’ll be on the run or dead.
The good thing about this place is I’ve not felt anything for years.
My expectations of what’s to come are extremely low.
Honestly, if I make it out of Mexico alive, it will be a miracle.
I try not to look bored as I resist the itch to pick at a hangnail on my thumb.
Hector hates when I fidget.
“Do you need your VP to hold your dick?” Hector chuckles, and all his men laugh as he thrusts Tonya forward.
One glance at Tonya and the biker’s top lip curls in disgust. He shares a look with his partner, but they won’t challenge Hector. Not like this. They may have men outside of the gate, but behind these heavily guarded walls, that means nothing.
There’s probably fifty soldiers with eyes on them, not to mention their guns.
Hector snaps his fingers at me. “Don’t let me down, pequena flor.” He leaves me with Jose.
“You fuck this up and you’re a dead bitch,” he warns.
I’m dead either way.
The bikers don’t take long with Tonya.
“Your whore’s dead,” Big Daddy tells him.
I close my eyes. Part of me is sad, while the other half of me is jealous that she’s escaped.
“Don’t worry. This one won’t break.” He pushes me forward.
Big Daddy looks me over, irritation evident in his features. He’s a big guy. Intimidating.
Not a man you want to be on the bad side of, but I’ll take my chances.
“What’s your name?”
“D-d-Daisy,” I mutter.
“You have a passport?”
I nod. It’s not a real one, but it doesn’t matter. Border Patrol will let me through.
“Good,” he grumbles.
I follow Big Daddy and Hero through the gates with nothing to my name other than the skimpy clothes I’m wearing.
I’m leaving here the same way I arrived.
With nothing.
But at least I’m still breathing.
For now.