Page 21 of A Dangerous Game
“Are you okay?” I ask the cabbie who is staring at the steering wheel. I’m not sure if he’s alive, dazed or passed out. He’s looking rough from the ambush.
My fingers numbly undo my seat belt in an effort to see if the cabbie is okay but it didn’t happen.
With my ears still clogged from my blood pulsing through them, I didn’t hear someone come up until a shot has been fired into the head of the cabbie. I scream loudly in hopes it will help me.
We are boxed in completely. There’s no way to get out of the sandwich we’re in and I’m starting to hyperventilate. My body buzzes from the ambush but my heart is beating double time.
“Are you Sinclair Mendoza?” A gruff man’s voice asks me from the driver’s side window.
Unable to form words, I nod my identity.
“It's her! Get her out!”
No! There’s no way in fucking hell these guys are going to be getting me. I would rather die than be a part of this. “Who are you?” I beg stupidly.
Honestly, if they wanted me to know who they were I’m pretty sure they would have said something.
The blood from my forehead slides down my cheek and I brush it away. It isn’t until this moment that I realize I’ve been crying. It's funny how a person could cry and not even know it.
Since I’m on the passenger’s side of the car, I’m closest to the guardrail. If I break out the window, would I be able to make a run for it? Let's be realistic here. Would I be able to run to the woods and hide? I grab my phone that’s in my hand in hopes of it giving me strength.
I need that strength. Right now, I feel like a big baby.
On each side of the car, there’s a man in a cut with a gun pointing at the window. I duck my head low enough to prevent me from getting shot.
“Don’t forget,” someone calls out, “we need her alive.”
That’s semi-comforting they need me alive. Too bad I don’t know who they are.
“We have a message for your dad,” another man draws out with a gravelly voice. “He better be fuckin’ ready. We’re ready and we’re gonna strike when he least expects it. You lived as an insurance policy. Let your dad know The Sinners ain’t gonna put up with this shit anymore.”
I nod in understanding over whatever they mean. Truly, I have no idea what they are talking about but I have a feeling my dad does. They specifically know my dad and knew who I was. My fucking dad must owe them money or something. “Yes. I will tell him.”
“Grab her out of the fuckin’ car and throw her into one of the cages. We’re going to sample Chaos goods,” one of them says from behind the guys who are looking at me as if I’m fresh meat.
Which I am. I’m not a normal club girl anymore. I have nothing to do with my dad’s club and this whole fucking thing is annoying and dangerous. They are putting me in the middle of a very dangerous situation. A scary one.
I’m shaking from head to toe as I fight these greedy hands all over my body trying to yank me out of the back seat through a window. The window got busted out shortly after the rampage of these drivers.
That’s when my nightmare begins. That’s when everything changes in my life and now I’m going to have to figure out what the fuck to do with myself. It’s funny how you never realize how easy shit was until it's no longer easy.
Life is messy. It would have been easier to have these assholes kill me.
THREE YEARS LATER
SINCLAIR
“So tell me how you got into porn?” The video producer asks me as I sit in a bathrobe with nothing under it.
Well, I could do the normal bull shit answer where I mention my daddy didn’t pay enough attention to me or some shit. Truth is, he did. We just wanted different things for me. He wanted me to be a biker’s ol’ lady, I wanted a degree but ended up becoming a porn star. “Huh, I guess I never really thought about it. I just kinda fell into it.”
Cara Hawke looks at her notes and then smiles at me with her fake white teeth. Great. That’s the smile of “things are about to get more personal.” She’s a fake blonde lady with some dark eyebrows. Most people hate her because she has the ability to get into your history and exploit it. She once made my friend, Candace, cry because she mentioned her past drug addiction.
“Well, according to my records, you became the guardian to your two nieces after the death of your older brother. Do you think that has something to do with it?”
I look at her and throw my naturally brown but blonde hair over my shoulder. I hate when people bring up Gabe. What happened to him is a travesty and many people are still affected about it. Including my two nieces. “It’s a possibility,” I say laced with hostility. “However, I was filming before I took over custody.”
“Well,” she draws it out and then looks at me, “how do you feel now that you are a single guardian and doing porn? Do you think you will retire?”
I look up at the ceiling and ask Gabe for strength. This is why I hate these meetings or interviews. Personally, I call them a grilling but White Hot Productions say they are beneficial. “Only time will tell, Cara. If you excuse me, I need to go pick up my nieces.” I slide down the director-like chair and walk off the stage.
