Page 50 of Lexi, Property of Rhyder

Tate nods. “You know you can count on us. You have our club to help with whatever you need. Let’s get these fuckers.”

“You got a problem with the Sinners joining us, Rhyder?”

“Nah…” I look at Tate. “I’ll appreciate your club’s help.”

“Okay, Tate, see if you can find out details from the El Pasos like where and when they usually do the drop-off, and where they come in from,” Prez adds.

“On it,” Tate says before he exits the room.

Prez turns to me. “I know you wanna fly out to Mexico, brother, but first, we need to see if Lexiisone of the girls being delivered to the US.”

I nod, understanding.

“Promise me you won’t do anything irrational. Let’s do this the right way, and only have to do it once,” Prez states.

I grind my jaw, everything in my body is telling me to catch the next damn flight to Mexico, but I know Prez is right, and I need to be smart, especially when it comes down to Clemente.

LEXI

My eyes flutter open then close again. I’m so tired, my head feels so heavy, and it’s pounding. It is dark, and for a minute, I think I’m dreaming. Slowly, I open my eyes again. My mouth is dry and my body’s so drugged that I am struggling to sit up.

Slowly, I turn on my side and freeze when I notice a silhouette of a man sitting in a chair in the corner, smoking a cigar. I can’t make out his face only that he’s there.

With a shaky voice, I ask, “Wh-Who are y-you? Wh-Where am I-I?”

He doesn’t answer me continuing to puff away on his cigar. Gradually, he stands.

I try to shift back on the bed, but I can barely move—my head’s spinning. The man walks toward me, and I scream when he places his hand out to switch the lamp on thinking he’s going to touch me.

Once the light is on, my eyes adjust to him. He’s not as old as I thought. He seems like maybe he’s in his thirties with dark hair and green eyes, and, of course, he’s wearing a suit. My eyes focus on his gold Rolex watch as he takes another puff from his cigar then sits on the edge of the bed.

I freeze.

“Please, don’t hurt me,” I beg with tears blurring my vision.

The man places his cigar down in an ashtray, then gives me his full attention. His eyes travel down my body, pinning on my breasts, and I squeeze my eyes shut allowing the tears to fall. Very gently, the back of his hand runs down the side of my face, then over my neck. His fingertips lightly brush my nipples on the outside of my negligee. I cry out, knowing that even if I try to fight him, I won’t win.

“You are quite a beautiful woman, Luscious.”

I widen my eyes open—his accent is American, not Spanish.

“Who are you?” I ask with hope that he’s here to take me home.

“I don’t allow questions, Luscious. But what I will say is… I’m your new owner. You can call me Master or Sir Lawrence, and you, my girl, have a ridiculous name. I’m going to call you Red because from now on, all I want to see on you is that red lipstick. Do you understand, Red?” His thumb rubs against my lips, and his other hand travels from my breast to my shoulder. “Have we got an understanding?”

I sit, stunned, lost for words.

This can’t be happening.

Can it?

“Answer me,” he growls, his voice now sounding more demanding.

I sink back into the bed, terrified of what’s next. “Yes, I understand,” I reply as fear grips me, causing my voice to come out in a breathy whisper.

“That’s a good girl,” he says, patting me on the head like some sort of pet. “I paid a lot of money for you.” He leans in closer against my ear, and whispers, “Are you going to be a good girl and obey me?”

The smell of strong alcohol and cigars reaches my nostrils, and it instantly makes me feel ill. I bite down on my lip to try and stop my chattering teeth and the bile that’s threatening to come up my throat.

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