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I inhale deeply. Positive thoughts, Elizabeth. You'll find a way out of this. I can't really vanish into Mexico—can I?
I hear a creaking sound, and before I can think to play dead, Lockwood strolls through the door. He's wearing dirty-looking brown workman's pants and a gray button-up shirt. He's got on some kind of big, floppy cowboy hat, which shields most of his sunken-cheeked face. I also notice he's wearing a gun on his belt.
Of course.
Belatedly, I want to shut my eyes, but his gaze is already on me. “What do you think?” He spreads his arms out. “You like your comfy little Mexican hideaway?”
I swallow back a string of curse words. I need to appear calm or he might put me back to sleep. “My wrists hurt,” I answer.
“I didn't ask about your wrists. I asked about your room.” He looks up at the cracked ceiling. “Believe it or not, this is big shit in Mexico.”
“Where are we?” I ask him.
He grins, looking genuinely amused. “You think I'm telling you? All you need to know is this is where we sell 'em. You'll fetch a good price. He may, too,” he says, nodding at Cross's broad back. “He's got nice blue eyes.”
Hearing this news, I feel nothing. Maybe I'm in shock. The only thought I have is that I want to get more information from him. Not want to, have to. I have to stay in control if I want to get away. I try a simple statement. “You killed Sarabelle.”
“Only because I had to,” Lockwood says, hooking his thumbs through his belt-loops. “I was gonna take her here to market but she got too frisky. Conniving little pussy. Acted like she was going to give me head and bit my cock.” He grimaces, fondling himself, and I grit my teeth. “Sarabelle, she wasn't like the last one, little Miss Lucky.”
When he says her name, I remember it. She was the escort who went missing a little while before Sarabelle. I raise my eyebrows and paste on a surprised, slightly impressed look. “You took Ginnifer Lucky, too?”
Lockwood nods, standing up a little taller. “She fetched a good price. But you…well, they're paying better these days. All that drug money.” He grins, revealing stained teeth.
I try my best to keep my disgust off my face. I want to sound curious, keep him talking but not make him mad. “You're the one behind Missy King, too, aren't you?”
At the mention of her name, his eyes dance. “Missy? Yeah, I sold her. She's still in country, actually. Somewhere,” he says, grinning. “She was a good fuck, that little Missy. Spirited. Gave the governor trouble, that's what happened to that little lady. Bet she's keeping some Mexican drug lord real happy.”
That thought makes my stomach church. “What's the point of selling Cross and I? People will notice we’re gone. If you need the money that badly, I recently came into some—”
He interrupts me with a coarse laugh. “I was disappointed to see the deal was already done.” I really might be sick this time. I clench my legs together and ignore the humiliation I feel. So far, the shirt's still covering my goods, but if I move, it won't be. This is a man who raped Sarabelle. “You would have fetched a much higher price yesterday.”
“I have money!” I say desperately.
He snickers. “We're moving you two downstream because you're all up in our business. And I do mean business. Tail like yours goes for high dollar.” He grins, like he's proud of himself, and I squeeze my legs a even closer together.
Lockwood is definitely leering at me. He walks a little closer to my bed, so when Priscilla strolls through the door, I actually feel almost glad.
“How's our prince and princess?” she asks.
Lockwood's dark eyes rove over her body, clad in a skin-tight black dress, before he glances back at me. “This one's a Curious Cassie.”
I scowl at Priscilla. “I can't believe you help him sell women into sex slavery.”
She laughs. “You over-estimate my moral code, darlin'. Besides, sex with strangers isn't as bad as you think.”
“It is when you’re forced to do it!”
She gives me a patronizing grin. “I guess you’ll find out.”
“I just don't understand,” I say evenly. “What’s in this for you?”
“You should know I’m not in it for the money,” she chides. “In fact, I’m usually not involved in Michael's extracurriculars at all. But this situation needed some tidying up.”
“I used to work for that kid’s dad,” Lockwood says, pointing at Cross. “Missy was his mistress before she started wanting too much. I had worked for him in security, and then I moved to Vegas to work in the porn biz. Priscilla wanted the governor and after a night of drinkin' she and I got the idea. It was really more my idea,” he says with a little nod. “The governor asked me to take care of it, and, like that—” he snaps “—a new enterprise was born.”
“I never liked her anyway,” Priscilla says. She rolls her eyes, like Missy was such a twat, and I realize she’s psycho. They both are.
“But you dated!” I exclaim to Lockwood.
