Page 16 of Bought By the Biker

My gaze softens with admiration that she’s thinking about saving others before she’s fully safe herself. But there’s also pity in my gaze, a sadness that her innocence is going to be shattered in more ways than one today.

Because nobody’s going to save her friend.

“Texas PD doesn’t have jurisdiction to go busting whorehouses down in Mexico, Yolanda,” I say gently, reaching out and taking her hand even though I might not be able to let go. “They’ll put you in touch with the FBI. Feds don’t have jurisdiction either, but the FBI will coordinate with Mexican authorities. They’ll send Marybeth’s information down to the Juarez PD.” I shrug, trying to offer a hopeful smile even though the truth is pretty damn hopeless. “They’ll find her eventually, I’m sure. What’s important right now is that you get across the border, get yourself safe. Then you can—”

But Yolanda pulls her hand away from mine, crosses her arms over her boobs, shakes her head. “They’ll find her . . . eventually? After she’s been forced to become a heroin addict? After she’s been used and abused by perverted assholes like Kazi and Durand . . . and . . .”

“And me?” I smile sharply. “Perverted assholes like Kazi and Durand and me?”

“That’s not what I was going to say,” she replies with a pouty gaze. She sighs, then glances down along the walkway towards the United States. After a long quiet moment, she looks the other way, down the road leading back to Juarez. “All right, well, thank you, Brock. You saved my life, and I’ll always be grateful for that. Best of luck with the Skulls and all that, I guess.” She turns her head towards me but keeps her gaze lowered to the ground, flashes a shaky smile that puzzles me. “Goodbye, Brock.”

And then Yolanda starts walking.

Not towards Texas and freedom.

But back towards Juarez and Kazi.

“Where the hell are you going?” I call after her, flicking off my engine, pushing my bike onto its stand, then dismounting and striding after her. “Are you fucking insane, Yolanda? You’re bruised, starving, and barefoot. What the hell do you think you’re going to do?”

“Save Marybeth,” she replies firmly. “I know the Texas Police and the FBI can’t just go blazing across the border like the cavalry. They’ll follow their legal procedures, which will probably result in nobody doing anything until it’s too late for Marybeth.”

“Well, you can’t do anything either,” I say, grabbing her arm and forcing her to turn. “Look, Yolanda, you’ve just been through absolute hell. I can’t even imagine how bad the past few days have been for you.” My gaze softens when I feel her shaking, see her lips trembling. “You’re not thinking straight right now. Listen, get back to Texas, let them take you to a hospital.”

“I don’t need a hospital,” Yolanda replies stubbornly. She wrenches her arm away from my grasp, crosses her arms over her breasts again.

“Well, you need money, food, a place to stay, and . . .” I glance at her bare feet. “And shoes. Come on, you’re smart enough to know this is ridiculous. It’s the middle of the night. There’s nothing you can do in this state.”

Yolanda looks down at her filthy little toes, then back up at me. “I have money. It’s in Marybeth’s car, which is parked outside that taverna where we were kidnapped. My bag is under the seat. It’s got my phone and wallet. I only carried some cash into the bar because I was already tipsy and didn’t want to lose my stuff. I can find my way to the car. Break the window with something. Get my bag, then find a hotel, get cleaned up, get some food and rest. Then first thing in the morning I’ll try my luck with the Mexican Police. At least that will speed things up, get them looking for Marybeth without all the red-tape of the FBI filing reports with their counterparts in Mexico.”

I raise my eyebrows, impressed at how sharp she is, how she’s able to focus even in this frazzled state.

But then my gaze hardens.

Shit, she’s serious about going after her friend.

Damn it.

“Juarez Police is basically owned by the Cartels,” I inform her. “And the Cartels guarantee protection to Kazi’s operations because he gives them a healthy percentage of all his business.” I sigh, shake my head. “Look, you’re brave, Yolanda. Smart and strong too, that’s for damn sure. But you’re also innocent. You have no idea how dark the world really is, how rare it is for justice to actually happen. Hell, you go to the Juarez Police and make a big stink about Kazi kidnapping American girls, chances are they take you back to Kazi just to keep you quiet. It’s not that the Juarez Police are all evil—it’s just that they have no choice but to do what the Cartels want. It’s a different system from how things work in the States, Yolanda. You can’t navigate this world.”

“I also can’t leave my friend behind and run off to safety,” she says stubbornly, turning and starting to walk barefoot down the rough concrete sidewalk that’s got to be hurting her pretty feet. “Maybe I won’t go the police tomorrow. Maybe I’ll buy a gun and kill Kazi myself,” she calls over her shoulder. “And his fucking mommy.”

I almost laugh at her feisty determination. But the laughter stops in my throat when Yolanda picks up the pace, her beautiful butt moving up and down beneath that yellow sundress, her brisk barefoot steps exuding a fierceness that I know is foolishly dangerous, like maybe the wildness of the past few days caused something to snap in this innocent sweetheart, the darkness of reality ripping away that innocent veil and dragging her into this filthy underworld.

A world that she can’t survive alone.

Well, good thing she’s not going to be alone.

Not while I still live.

Not while I still breathe.

Now while I still own her.

With three long strides I’m back at my bike. Moments later I’ve got it turned around and rolling slowly down the street beside her, my engines growling loud as I get close, my inner beast growling louder as I glance at her gorgeous ass and remind myself that she’s still mine, was always mine, will always be mine.

“Hey,” I say to her. “Get on. I’ll take you into town. Help you break into your friend’s car without shattering the window and causing a scene. Besides, you might need the car later.”

She looks over at me, still walking. But there’s a flicker of something in her eyes, and I feel my heart swell as that earlier dread recedes, replaced by a growing excitement that maybe fate isn’t ready to end our story, that destiny isn’t ready to call it quits.

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