Page 84 of Bullet

After the confrontation with the bikers, I had hope that I was going to be saved. Even though Ford had let them take me, the look in his eyes told me he was going to come for me and was going to kill anyone that got in his way.

I just hoped he didn’t get himself killed in the process.

The men in the SUV with me spoke in Spanish for most of the trip so I didn’t understand what they were saying. I had a feeling we were going to Mexico, which scared the shit out of me. I knew that most of the people they took over the border to Matteo’s compound were never found again.

But I had faith in Ford. I needed to in order to keep from losing my shit.

We stopped outside an abandoned convenience store somewhere in the desert. Light flooded in as the back of the SUV opened and one of the men grabbed me by my arm and hauled me out.

I tried to wrench from his grasp. I hated being manhandled, and it triggered my defense mechanisms. Gripping me tighter, he led me into the run-down shop.

At the back of the store, the floor was covered with cardboard, pieces of wood, and old, dirty rugs. Two of the men moved the coverings aside to reveal a hole in the floor. They were all speaking in Spanish again as they started to jump down into the hole one by one.

Another man approached me, shoving clothes at me. “Change,” he ordered.

I frowned at him, gripping my towel tighter. “I’m not changing in front of all of you.”

“Bano,”he said to the guy holding me, gesturing down a hallway.

The guy grunted and led me down the hall to a door with a women’s bathroom sign on it. He opened the door and pushed me inside. “Hurry.”

The door shut behind me, and I quickly looked for an escape. Unfortunately, there was only the one door and no windows. And the only vent was way too small for me to try to fit through.

Begrudgingly, I put on the dirty clothes I’d been given over my bathing suit. The T-shirt was too big, but the shorts fit, and I was thankful I had more than a towel covering me.

A loud knock startled me, making me jump. “Andale!”

“Jesus fucking Christ, I’m coming!” I yelled back. When I approached the door, I could hear him muttering under his breath in Spanish, so I figured he was right outside the door.

This could be my only chance to get away.

I knew most of the other men had already jumped down in the hole. If I could knock this guy down, I could make a run for the front door and hope that Ford was somewhere nearby. If he wasn’t, then I wasn’t sure what I would do, but I had to take the chance.

I threw open the door, hitting the man and knocking him to the ground. I took off as fast as my bare feet would take me, running down the hall as the man yelled out in Spanish.

I turned the corner to go to the front of the store, the exit door in sight as the man who’d given me my current outfit stepped out from one of the aisles and clotheslined me.

I fell to the ground hard, the wind knocked out of me as I reached for my neck and gasped for breath. I winced in pain as the man stood over me, sneering down at me. “Pendeja.”

I was hauled up a few seconds later, and my original captor gripped me by the arm again, leading me back to the hole in the ground. “In,” he said.

When I looked down in the hole, I saw that it led to a tunnel.

Great. I’m being smuggled illegally into Mexico.

I hopped down, and the man followed me. Matteo’s cronies led me through the man-made tunnel, and I couldn’t believe what was happening. I’d heard Matteo talk about their tunnels and smuggling drugs and people using them, but I definitely never expected to experience it myself.

I rubbed at my sore throat as we walked through the dimly lit passageway, which smelled like mold and dirt. I was glad I wasn’t claustrophobic because the enclosed space was narrow and tight, maybe wide enough for a person and a half.

I’m not sure how long we walked for, but it felt like hours. I’d left my phone in the VIP area when the girls and I had gone in the pool, so I had no idea what time it was or how long I’d been gone.

I wondered if my friends were searching for me. I hoped that one of Ford’s guys had told them what was going on so that they didn’t stay in Vegas looking for me or try to get the cops involved. That would be bad news for Ford, and the cops couldn’t do anything once I was in Mexico.

When we finally emerged from the end of the tunnel, another group of men was waiting for us with two SUVs. I was forced in the back of one as they conversed in Spanish again.

I rolled my eyes, exasperated. A few minutes passed before all the men finally loaded up, and we drove off.

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