Page 67 of Lexi, Property of Rhyder

She nods. “Yes. They had mentioned that I needed to look nice for Mr. Clemente, so I’m sure we were at his home.”

Just as I suspected, Lexi had been there along with other girls.

“Okay,” I say, while cupping her cheek. “You did good. One of my brothers is goin’ to take you home and get you there safe.”

Her eyes widen in panic, and she trembles.

“What is it, Paige?”

“I don’t want to go anywhere with a stranger. Please, please, can you take me home? Lexi trusted you, and so do I.”

I chew on my bottom lip, trying to figure out how I’m going to be able to hold off on getting to Lexi, so I can take Paige home first. We have a name—Lawrence.He must be rich if he paid lots of money for Lexi. It kills me to think that she’s been sold. I need to get to her. What if she’s being forced to have sex with him? There’s no way she can go through that again. I have got to get to her and fast.

I grip Paige’s shoulders. “Stay here, I’ll be right back. I need to visit one of my boys. I’ll be next door.”

“Okay, I’ll rest. I’m feeling tired.” Paige’s eyes are closing as she’s talking.

“It’s the drugs. It’s only natural. Sleep. I’ll be right back.”

I lock the door behind me and walk the few steps to Tracker and Prez’s room. After knocking, Prez opens the door, and I step in seeing Tracker on the phone in the corner. Prez follows me in the room with his arms folded.

“What’s up? You get some information on where Lexi might be?”

I nod. “Yeah, some ass by the name of Lawrence paid for her. Need to see if Tracker can locate a rich fucker who might go by that name.”

As Tracker ends the call, he asks, “What was that?”

I stride over to him, seeing his laptop on the bed. “Is there any way you can search for an asshole who goes by the name Lawrence? He’s a rich fucker.”

Tracker rubs his jaw. “That’s gonna be hard. Do we have a first name, or is that his first name?”

I shake my head. “Paige gave me Lawrence, that’s all she knows.”

He stands there in thought, then quickly sits on the bed and types something on his computer. I look at the screen seeing a few flashing lights and something running like code.

“What’s that?” I ask, pointing to the screen.

“Well, we know she was in Mexico City. I’m seeing if there is anyone who goes by that name around the vicinity.”

“And? What’s it showin’ you?”

“There are three in Mexico.”

“Pull them up, let’s see.”

He does, and we look at the details of each man. A full report is displayed along with a picture of the person.

The first name—Salvador Lawrence—appears on his screen.

“Can’t be him, he’s a farmer.”

Tracker nods and clicks on the next one. “Alberto Lawrence.” Tracker reads a bit of the information and says, “No, brother, can’t be him. He’s fifteen.”

I grind my teeth impatiently while waiting to get some information. “Try the last one.”

Tracker clicks on the details, and disappointment fills me.

“It’s not him. He’s a waiter,” I say.

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