Total pages in book: 114
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108405 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 542(@200wpm)___ 434(@250wpm)___ 361(@300wpm)
He shut off his phone and stuck it in a cup holder, sinking down with me. “That’s Sandra. She’s Estonian.”
She sat on a bench and took out her phone. I’d never been here, but it didn’t take a genius to see this wasn’t a good neighborhood. She should be paying attention to her surroundings. I balled my hands in my lap and surveyed the area. “Why is she so far from home?”
He sniffed. “Her aunt sold her to Brazilian traffickers when she was thirteen,” he said. “Unfortunately, we only got her out a couple years ago, so she was forced into prostitution for a while.”
My stomach dropped. That was a betrayal unlike any I’d ever heard. What Diego had done to me paled in comparison. “Her own aunt?” I repeated, my nose tingling.
“People get desperate. The weak ones break.” He touched my hand. It took me a moment to realize he was trying to uncurl my fist. I opened it, and his warm palm took mine. “Young, light-skinned, light hair—she’s easy bait, but this is the first time we’ve put her in the field. The important thing is that she wants to be here. To help.”
It took me a moment to adjust to the simple act of holding his hand. Was it for comfort? I checked myself before reacting to the word bait, remembering what Alejandro had said about trying to keep an open mind. Cristiano had also said help. I relaxed my hand into his. “Is she the eighteen-year-old who looks fourteen?”
“Yes.”
I closed my eyes. “I’m trying not to think the worst, Cristiano.”
“And what’s the worst?”
I glanced over at him. “That you’re prostituting her now.”
“I’ve spent a fortune on girls like her.” His eyes grew distant as he looked at her with obvious affection. “It’s why I’ve worked so hard to earn it. They’re worth every penny.”
Again, I had to work to read his ambiguity so I wouldn’t jump to conclusions. He’d told me earlier in the week that when I was young, he’d tried to scare me. I sensed he was doing that now. “What do you mean?”
He squeezed my hand. “Sandra has intimate, inside knowledge of these operations. Sad but true. Just by sharing what she knows, she has helped us free more than twenty girls—and more tonight, we hope.”
My heart began to pump, and I felt the rush of blood in my veins. “I don’t understand.”
His two-way radio went staticky, and a voice came through. “Hay viene un hombre.”
Someone was coming. Cristiano stuck a baseball cap on his head. I started to glance over my shoulder, but he grabbed the back of my head and shoved my face into his lap. “What—”
“Suck my dick like your life depends on it,” he said. “Or at least pretend to.”
“Cristiano—”
“I shouldn’t be making jokes—this is serious. Stay down. He’s about to walk by.” He curled his fist against my scalp then smoothed a hand over my hair. “Do you know this area?”
My irritation with talking to his zipper dissipated as uneasiness settled in. “No.”
“It’s a forgotten neighborhood. The next one over is a hotbed for trafficking, but law enforcement in both is owned by Belmonte-Ruiz, and they’re paid to look the other way. Every person we’ve seen is either a drug addict, dealer, or prostitute, and they’re all spies for BR. We have to blend in, or we’ll stand out.”
“Fortunately, playing your whore isn’t too much of a stretch,” I said, even though I was near purring by the way he stroked my hair.
His hand stilled. I doubted he even realized he’d been petting me. “In that case, if you have any impulses while you’re down there, feel free to indulge them.”
Your curiosity is an affliction. Papá’s words continued to haunt me into adulthood.
With Cristiano, my curiosity was as strong as ever. He was an enigma. My favorite part of business school had been case studies of the inner workings of companies—their mistakes and triumphs. Here was one right in front of me. Nothing about him added up. Nothing about him and me added up. Not only could I stomach being this close to him, but I felt safe here, as I had the other times I’d sought solace in him when he’d been the one to put my life in danger.
Was it because he hadn’t shown me cruelty yet? Or was it that I knew, instinctively, he never would—no matter what evidence I mounted against him?
“How much longer do I have to stay down here?” I asked.
“He’s gone. I just like having you there.”
I sat up quickly to glare at him. In his black baseball cap, he looked younger, slightly less menacing, and he almost verged on . . . carefree. “I thought you weren’t making jokes.”
“It wasn’t one.” His eyes shone, but he didn’t keep them on me long, shifting them to the blonde instead. “The Belmonte-Ruiz cartel has been tracking Sandra since we put her on these streets a few days ago. They know she doesn’t have a pimp yet, or she’d be working a street in the next neighborhood. Hopefully they’ll pick her up tonight.”