Page 25 of Mex

The room he has me in is small, with one bed in the middle and a small table and two chairs by the window. It doesn’t even have a mini fridge. A television is the only form of entertainment in this tiny space. I’m going to need to be creative if I’m going to get out of here, or, at the very least, if I’m going to be stuck here, I need entertainment.

“I’ve got an idea,” I say, turning to Mex, “let’s play a game. If you can out drink me, then I’ll consider answering some questions for you.”

Tipping his head to the side, Mex’s eyes flash with challenge. “I could outdrink you in a fuckin’ heartbeat.”

“If you’re so sure ...”

He steps up to me, and my breath hitches in my throat as he looks down, those eyes intensely roaming my face. Then, he reaches into his jacket and pulls out a pair of handcuffs. Before I can say a word, he slaps one around my wrist, before putting the other one on himself.

“What the hell, man,” I growl, jerking my hand.

“You don’t think I’m stupid, do you?”

Dammit.

He has thought of everything this time.

“Don’t bother wonderin’ where the key is. You’ll never find it.”

With that, he jerks me as he turns, making me stumble after him. He moves to a bag on the ground and he reaches in. Straightening, he produces a large bottle of vodka. At the very least, he has thought of the main things. Here’s hoping he has food to share after this because if he doesn’t, things are going to get very messy.

“You sure you’re ready for this?”

I hold his eyes, my determination strong. “Let’s go.”

This biker really has no idea who I am.

He’s about to find out.

~*~*~*~*~

SLAMMING THE BOTTLEdown, I stare across the table at Mex.

We’re halfway through and both of us are still going strong. I’m feeling the effects of the alcohol, and I can see in his eyes that he is, too. Still, nothing stops us from taking another sip, then another, until we’re both more than a little drunk. Being drunk is the only reprieve from my world that I have. It takes me to another place. It relieves the pressure in my mind for just a moment.

I like it.

Me and my addictive personality.

“How long are you goin’ to drink until you realize you’re not winnin’ this?” Mex asks, taking another sip.

I shrug, reaching for the bottle and sliding it toward me. “You’ll pass out eventually.”

“Never passed out in my life.”

Well damn, that is impressive.

“There’s a first time for everything,” I point out with a grin.

“I’ve got a better idea. Make this a little more fun. You start askin’ questions and throwin’ out answers you think are correct, if you get the right answer, I’ll take a drink. Same goes for you.”

I smirk. “I love a good drinking game. I’ll go first. How old are you? I’m guessing thirty-two.”

He doesn’t move.

“Hmmm. Thirty-five?”

No movement.

---