Page 17 of Mex

“You mean leaving naked girls tied up like a fucking foot stool outside?”

He tips his head to the side, not a flinch in his expression. “She doesn’t want to do what she’s told, that’s her punishment.”

“She doesn’t want to be here,” I point out. “She doesn’t have a choice.”

“She has a choice,” he answers casually as he picks up his knife, running his finger carefully over the blade. “She can cooperate and do her job without punishment, or she can refuse and be punished.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” I mutter.

He’s a beast – it doesn’t matter what pretty coat of paint he puts on it with that smooth, gravelly voice. He is taking girls and forcing them to work for him. When they’re done, he sells them. Like they’re nothing more than trash. Never to be thought of again. Marek is the coldest of the cold, and the worst part is, he loves every second of it. I often wonder, though, if he will ever meet a woman he can’t control, a woman who won’t break, a woman who will challenge him in a way he can’t punish away.

It's an intriguing thought.

I don’t have time to ponder it, or anything else. I know what he’s doing here, but in the world I was raised in, this is just part of it. Not everything in life is joyous; there is a whole lot of bad out there and you can either roll with it, or you can fight against it. If you’re born into it, the only way you survive is to roll with it, so that’s what I do. It doesn’t mean it doesn’t hurt me to see these people in those positions, but if I save one, he finds another.

It's a never-ending cycle and not one I could ever bring down.

That’s reality.

That’s the harsh, cold truth.

“Tell your mother I need to see her by the end of the week,” Marek informs me, his voice no longer casual as I turn toward the door.

I hold my breath.

That could be a problem.

“I’ll do my best.”

“Do better than that. I’ll be in touch.”

Oh, I have no doubt about it.

Stepping out of his RV, I pause once again at the woman. She lifts her head this time, and her pale blue eyes connect with my own.

“For your own good,” I say, my voice low, “just do as he asks. The harsh reality is that thisisyour life now. You can’t fight it; you can only do your best to survive it.”

She seems dazed, like my words aren’t sinking in.

She’s probably drugged.

I don’t bother giving her anything more, I can only hope she took what I said and let it sink in.

I exit the tent as fast as I can, getting the hell out of this place. I only release the breath I’m holding when I reach the truck. Jayme reaches over, shoving the door open.

“Well, you’re alive, that’s got to be a good sign.”

I slide into the seat. “Depends how you look at it. Marek wants me to find out information, you know how that generally goes.”

“Yeah, he fucks you, destroys you, and when he gets what he wants he discards you.”

I wiggle a finger. “Nailed it.”

“I hope you know what you’re doing ...”

I give him a look, and our eyes connect. “You know I don’t have a choice.”

He nods, sharply.

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