Page 60 of Saving Blood

“I don’t think what happened to Tiffany and me was planned. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time. Tiffany lost her life, and they shipped me to Mexico.” I huff out a laugh. “At the time, I was so happy they didn’t kill me too—until we reached Rosarito.

“Looking back, I see how we were so young and gullible, but at the time, being in a hot L.A. club, getting the attention of two attractive men who had a limousine and a mansion in Marina del Rey was exciting. For two girls from a nowhere town in Oklahoma, this was a dream come true.”

“Until it turned into a fuckin’ nightmare.”

“After we reached Rosarito, the original ten girls dwindled down to five. Over the next three weeks, we were locked in another room and only given enough water and food to survive.”

“What happened to the other girls?”

“One by one, they went to work in his brothels. Most I never saw again.”

“But not you.”

“I held out the longest.”

“So, all the other girls were moved to the brothels, but you stayed in those beat-to-shit barracks?” Blood shakes his head. “I saw them when Smoke and I paid Hector a visit last week. He’s living like a king in fuckin’ luxury while?—”

I place my hand on his. “Let me finish.”

Blood jerks his head in a nod, his jaw tight.

“Hector said my stubbornness intrigued him, and I would be more useful fighting in the cage.”

“Did he make you do other shit—for him?” Rage simmers in each word.

The underlying question in Blood’s voice is undeniable. When I started the story, I thought I could tell all, but his mounting anger tells me two things. One, he might lash out at Hector and do something to put himself in danger, and, two, I can’t bear the shame of him knowing the truth about myself and Hector.

“No, he always made me feel less than him, not even worthy of sex.”

Blood’s expression relaxes, and I know I’ve made the right decision. “Soon after, I began training in the gym housed in the barn.”

“I can’t believe all you’ve been through.” Blood draws me into his arms. “Did you ever try to run, to get away?”

I glance at the ceiling. “I tried to leave once, soon after I began training in the gym. My newfound strength gave me false courage and confidence. I befriended one of Hector’s guards, and he created a diversion one night while I slipped away.” I shake my head, remembering. “It was such a stupid thing to do. I had no money, only the clothes on my back, and I didn’t know the area, but I was so desperate, I acted without thinking or having a solid plan. I didn’t even get out of Rosarito.”

Blood stares at me, his brown eyes full of questions he didn’t want to ask.

“Two of Hector’s men found me at a gas station trying to get a ride north. I learned later I’d only made it two miles from his compound.” I squeeze my eyes shut, then concentrate on the bedsheets. “I never saw the guard who helped me again.”

“And you?”

“He locked me in a small, dark, soundproof room with barely enough space to lie down, and nothing more than a bottle of water each day. Just enough to survive.”

Blood jams his fist into the mattress. “Fuck.”

“I can’t tell you what punishment like that does to your mind and your soul. It breaks something that can never be fixed.” I draw in a slow, deep breath. “It was even worse than when my parents used to lock me in the closet.”

“What?”

“When I misbehaved, they’d lock in the closet, but that usually just lasted a few hours, not days. Something about the not knowing made it seem endless.”

Blood throws up his palm. “Wait a minute. What the hell could you have done to be locked in a fuckin’ closet?”

“Coming in late for dinner. Not hanging up my clothes after school. Anything going against their rules.”

“Babe, you are the strongest person I know. I had a shitty childhood, but nothing like what you went through. My father was a bastard, and . . .”

“And what?”

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