Page 24 of Mex

“And you think I’m scared of you,” I throw back, “but I’m not.”

“I can change that.”

I snort.

Sliding out of the bed, I put my feet over the side and face him. We’re close now, only inches apart and it’s hard for me not to imagine doing filthy things to him in this room. Maybe I’ll have my way with him, just to enjoy my time here a little longer.

“I doubt it. Is there a shower in this place?” I ask, my voice breathy as our eyes stay locked together.

“There is, but you’re not goin’ in there alone. Don’t trust you.”

I shrug, pushing to my feet.

I wobble, not realizing that I’m still drugged, and my body slowly topples toward Mex. Reacting quickly, his hand lashes out and stops me from falling. Pushing to his feet, keeping his hand on me, he straightens me until I can gather my footing.

“I really,reallyhate being drugged,” I mutter.

He doesn’t answer me. Instead, he guides me to the shower.

Stepping into the small green bathroom, I scrunch my nose in disgust. “You could have at least picked a nicer place to hold me captive.”

“I saw the bar you were drinkin’ at, don’t act like you’re fancy.”

I jerk my arm from his grips and stare around the room. Nothing but a toilet and a very small shower in here. He’s already made sure nothing can be used as a weapon. Turning toward him, I cross my arms. “Are you going to stand there and stare at me, or are you going to act like a gentleman and turn around?”

“Nothin’ gentlemanly about me.”

“That’s what I figured,” I mutter. “Well, I’ll take my clothes off in there.”

I point to the shower, and then walk toward it, sliding the screen open. It’s frosted glass, so he can see my outline but he can’t see anything else. I close it, and then begin taking my clothes off, tossing them over the top at him. I would have much preferred to undress in front of him, really tease the situation, but I have a little problem. If I did that, then he would know I have a burner phone tucked into my panties.

It’s the smallest one I could find, and it fits perfectly down the front of my pants. Considering Mex isn’t perve enough to have inspected me when he drugged me, he doesn’t know I have it. He has my other phone, of course, and anything else I had on me. I’m always one step ahead, and there was no way he was taking me this time without there being a way for me to communicate.

Taking it into my hands, I toss the rest of my clothes over and then turn the shower on. I hold the phone away from the water, wondering where I can stash it that he won’t see. Generally, my pick is covering it in plastic and putting it in the top of a toilet, but he will see me do that, and I don’t have any plastic. I’ll need to find somewhere to put it that he won’t see. Placing it on the soap holder out of the way, I continue on with my shower.

I take my time.

If he wants to stand there, being all guard like, then he can work on my watch.

Once I’m finished, I turn the shower off and pick up the phone. I send off a few quick tests, mostly to keep people from wondering where I am, and then I call out for a towel. Mex tosses one over the top quickly, and I wrap it around myself, tucking the phone between my breasts and making sure the towel is up high enough to cover everything. Then, I step out. Mex is standing, my clothes on the ground at his boots.

His eyes rake over me, settling on the scar on my shoulder.

“My mother let me get shot,” I say casually, before he even asks what it is. “She wasn’t going for any mother of the year awards.”

Mex doesn’t say anything, but the way his eyes flash tells me my sentence hits something deep inside him. I wonder what his story is. I figured most bikers are in a club because they have shit lives, otherwise why the hell would you join one? It’s like being in my world isn’t something you’d choose for yourself, it’s usually something you end up in because you have no other options.

I reach down, picking up my clothes. “At least turn around. I don’t have time to tell you the story of every scar on my body because believe me, there are a few.”

He obliges, turning his back to me. I quickly get dressed, tucking my phone back into my pants, and then I toss the towel over the railing.

“So, tell me biker, how long do you plan on keeping me here?”

He glances at me as I step past him and walk out the door.

“As long as it takes for you to give me what I want.”

“Well, you better get used to me then, because I won’t break.”

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