Page 81 of Ruthless Beast

Silence.

“Damon!” I scream one more time, but no one comes to my aid.

The terrible realization that I’ve been duped starts to dawn on me. Why would Damon do this if he was on my side? Is he even who he says he is? He can’t be the bad guy in all this. Surely, Lucas would have vetted him carefully. I don’t get this. I have to talk to him, but where is he?

I look out of the window. It’s barred up, but I can see the street below. What the hell? This doesn’t look like the streets of LA. None that I’ve ever seen, anyway. Where am I? I open the window so I can hear the street noises. Is that Spanish? Am I in Mexico? No! Can’t be!

“Hola!” I shout out of the window at a woman passing by.

She looks up briefly, but then carries on walking.

“Hola!” I shout again. “Excuse me! Where are we?”

The woman looks at me as if I’m crazy, then walks off.

“Wait! Please!”

No joy. I wait until I see another passerby. It’s a young boy. I hope he has better manners than the woman.

“Hola!”

The boy stops and looks up, his dirty little face all scrunched up as he looks into the sun.

“Hola!” he shouts and waves.

“Where are we?”

“Qué?”

“Great. He doesn't know what I’m saying.”

Come on, Emily. Think. Try to remember the rudimentary Spanish you learned at school.

“Uhm…Dónde estamos?”

“Ah! Tijuana, señora.”

Tijuana! What the fuck am I doing in Mexico? Shit! This is worse than I thought.

The little boy waves and runs off before I can talk to him some more. At least I know where I am now. Not that the revelation has done me any favors. Where the hell is Damon?

* * *

It’s been a whole day and a night since I’ve seen Damon. I’m starting to think that I’m going to die here. I’m starving, and I’d kill for a cup of coffee.

There’s a rattle outside the door. Keys! Damon!

I jump to my feet, readying myself for whatever lies on the other side of that door.

“You’re up.”

It’s Damon.

“Yes, I’m up! Where the fuck have you been? I’m sick with worry, and I’m starving! Why are we in Mexico, Damon? What the hell are we doing here?”

“Calm down,” he says coolly, tossing a plastic wrapped sandwich at me. “Here, eat this.”

I want to shove the food back at him and tell him to mind his manners, but I’m too hungry, so I rip open the plastic and inhale the food.

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