Chapter Three
“Look alive.” Wicked slaps me on the back of my neck. My balls are fucking about to melt off. We’ve been sitting out here for two hours with no shade. Sweat dribbles down my neck, carving a path down my spine straight to my ass crack, giving me fucking swamp ass.
All this so Hector and Jose can swing their dicks around.
The gate of the Juarez compound opens. Big Daddy and Hero exit wearing grim expressions. Behind them, a broken beauty that takes my damn breath away.
A slight breeze whips through, blowing her dirty blond curls around her face.
“Prez,” Toxic starts. “Kidd is on the line.”
Their conversation distorts into mumbles. All I can focus my attention on is her. The woman in the shortest pair of shorts in the history of shorts and a white halter top.
“Lunatic.” Hero snaps a finger in my face. “She’s riding bitch with you.”
I nod and clear my throat. “Name’s Lunatic.”
“Daisy.”
Her doe eyes meet mine. Big pools of a soft brown shade flecked with honey I could drown in. Her lips a perfect bow shape.
She can’t ride dressed like that. I open my saddlebag and pull out a long-sleeved tee. “Put this on.” I glance down at her feet. Her toes are painted a vibrant neon blue that glows against the white of her thin as fuck flip flops. “That the only shoes you’ve got?”
I’m a damn good rider, but accidents happen. She’d lose a lot of skin if my bike were to go down.
She lifts her chin. “This is it.” Her voice comes out soft.
“Right.” I dig around in my bag and pull out a pair of socks. “Take these.” Our fingers brush and electricity shoots between us.
Her lips tip into a smile. “You shocked me.” She laughs, and I resist the urge to tuck the stray curl behind her ear. “What am I supposed to do with these?” She unrolls the socks.
“Wear them.”
“Won’t that look stupid?”
“Better than the road eating those pretty legs up.”
The rest of our group fires up their bikes.
“You know how to ride?”
She shakes her head.
“First things first. You want to avoid touching the pipes. Second, feet on the pegs. Third, arms tight around my waist. Fourth, do what I do, but don’t lean too hard. Fifth, you only get off and on when I say so.”
“Got it.”
I’ve got a million questions, but now isn’t the time. We’ve got at least six or seven hours of riding. If I didn’t have a scantily clad passenger, I could do it in half the time. But Hero says she’s with me, so that’s that.
“You’ll want this.” I hand her my helmet.
“What about you?”
“I’ll be alright. Here.” I plop it on her head and flip the visor down. “I might not be able to hear you, but if you need me to stop at any time, tap my left arm two times.”
Big Daddy glances back at us, impatient to get home to Gwynee, no doubt.
“Let’s ride.”
When we reach Tijuana, we stop off for gas and a piss break.
“Give us a minute,” Big Daddy grumbles as I hand Daisy a drink. I walk over to Hero and Wicked as they munch on their street tacos.
“What’s the deal with this chick?”
I hook my thumb toward my passenger as Prez grills her.
“A gift from Hector and Jose,” Hero tells me.
“A spy.”
He nods. “Something like that. Wants BD to give her a job at Legends.” He snorts.
“Is he going to?”
“Not sure. Depends on his mood and how she answers his questions.”
“Why would we…he wants to flip her.”
Hero shrugs.
I glance back at Daisy. She looks early twenties, but has a baby face. She could prove useful in many ways. Who better to give inside information on the Juarez brothers than someone who has survived them? Problem is we can’t trust her, and she can’t trust us either.
Not yet.
Trust is earned.
Big Daddy looks over her passport, then gives her a nod.
Daisy smiles and shoves it in her back pocket.
“Half an hour, then we ride out,” he announces to our crew.
I need to get this chick some pants.
There’s a fucking Walmart of all things nearby. “Let’s grab you some decent shoes.”
Daisy struts up and down the shoe aisle in a pair of black cowgirl boots, having no clue how fucking cute she looks sucking on a sucker. Or maybe she does, and that’s the point.
I cup a hand over the back of my neck and roll my shoulders.
She pops the red candy from between her lips. “What do you think?” She shoves the stick between her lips once more.
“Looks good, but how do they fit?”
She turns from side to side, checking herself out in the mirror. “Okay, I guess. I’ve never picked out my own shoes before.”
She’s got to be shitting me. “Don’t piss me off.”
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
“You’ve never picked out your own shoes before?”
She shakes her head.
“Where are you from?”
“Nowhere.”
“How long have you been with Hector?”
Daisy lifts her shoulder. “I’ve lost track, but since I was about thirteen.”
“What’s your real name?”
She smiles a soft, sad smile. “I’m not that girl anymore. She died a long time ago.”
“Fair enough, but I’m sure you’ve got a family out there wondering where you are.”
“I don’t have anyone.”
“Were you a runaway?”
“What’s with all the questions?”
“Curious is all. Figure might as well kill some time getting to know you.”
“There’s not much to know. My mom walked out on us. My dad couldn’t take care of himself, much less me.”
“But that doesn’t explain how you ended up here.”
“What’s it matter? It doesn’t change anything.”
She’s got me there, but if we’re going to get her to flip, we need something to work with.
I need to talk to Prez. Daisy’s a victim of trafficking. I suspected as much, but damn. Fuck. Since she was thirteen.
That’s hard to hear and not want to turn my ass around and take these fuckers out now.
But we’re playing a long game.
As soon as we take them out, there will be five more fighting to take their place.
When the time comes, we need to be in control.
Nature of the beast and shit.
I don’t like it, but that’s reality.
It’s the way it is and always will be.
“Grab a pair of sneakers. You’ll need them.”
“You know I can’t pay for any of this.”
“It’s my treat.”
“What do you want in return?”
“Nothing.”
“Everyone wants something. Men never give without taking.”
I snort. She’s not wrong, but I’m not like that. “All right. You’ll owe me one.”
“One what?”
“A solid. A favor. Not sexual.” I don’t want her thinking that I’m out to take advantage of her.
She laughs. “All men want sex.”
“Of course we do. I just don’t want it from you.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Are you saying I’m not attractive?”
“I didn’t mean it like that.”
“There you are,” Toxic calls out. “Time to roll out.”
“We’ll be right there, man.”
“Grab your stuff.”
We check out and she changes in the bathroom.
She could make a run for it, but if she’s really been with Hector as long as she says, then she’s going to be hard to flip. She won’t run. At least not until we’re out of Mexico.
They’d just drag her back if she did.
Daisy is back on my bike, body tense and arms wrapped around me so damn tight I get the impression she’s scared of falling off and being left behind.
We speed toward the border. My brothers ride in a V formation.
Prez riding point, flanked by Hero and Wicked, followed by Tyrant and Toxic, then me and Creek making up the tail end.
We breeze through the border without incident.
The patrol officer barely glances at Daisy’s fake passport.
He waves us through while giving us a look that says, ‘Welcome back stateside, assholes.’
The first rest stop on this side of San Diego smells like stale piss and roadkill.
I shouldn’t have drunk so much lemonade.
When I exit the bathroom, I spot the same car that’s been keeping pace with us.
They’ve got a tail on us.
I spotted them about half an hour into our ride.
Not unexpected, but unwelcome.
Daisy has to be more than a cartel whore for them to care this much.
Lighting up a cigarette, I lean against the side of the building, pretending to ignore her, but she’s not the kind of girl you can easily dismiss.
She’s perched on the edge of a nearby picnic table, dangling her legs off the end, boots swinging back and forth as she munches on a vending machine candy bar.
Her hair hangs loose in wild tangles. Right now, she has this untamed look about her.
Almost like the before picture on the front of a pamphlet for drug rehab or some shit.
There’s something dangerous and untethered about the way she studies everything and everyone around her. She’s like a bomb that’s about to detonate at any time.
I watch as she picks at the chipped green paint, glancing over at the car that’s been following us when she thinks no one is paying attention.
“Want to tell me who our friend is?” I take a hard drag and exhale slowly.
She lifts a shoulder, giving the black Nissan with the windows tinted too dark and Arizona license plate one more glance.
“If I had to guess, he’s following Hector’s orders.”
“Which are?”
“Shoot me if I run.”
I give her a sideways glance. “Are you planning on it?” I stub my cigarette out against the concrete wall, then flick it into a nearby trash can.
“Not unless you give me a reason to,” she answers, not even looking up. The sun glints off her hair, and for half a second, she almost looks like an angel.
Not like a junkie that’s been rode hard and put up wet. I hate myself for being so quick to judge while knowing she’s been through hell.
“I guess I should be flattered Hector cares that much about me,” she says like it’s an honor or some shit. “Normally he tosses girls like me out with his weekly trash.” There’s no bite to her tone. She delivers the truth like someone who’s had the thought beaten into them.
My hand itches to squeeze hers when I reply, “You’re not garbage.” The words come out too low and soft. I clear my throat. “We should get back on the road.”
She slides off the picnic table and rips open a packet of Skittles, and tips the whole rainbow down her throat. Her tongue darts out red and blue all at once, then she wipes her mouth and looks me over. “You’re the boss.”