Get your copy today! She won`t disappoint.
And oh, just a heads up – and for the Fans who`ve been around since the beginning – there`s a character you might be familiar with; a character that will surely leave readers wondering about “him“.
Here`s a taste:
“Look at me,” he demanded. I looked up at the guy feeling a tinge of embarrassment because his vibe had matched the other guy’s vibe; the one in the gray dress shirt. “If you’re not sad then what are you?”
“‘Disappointed’. . .Why?”
“Because he took my doll’s face.”
“Hmm,” the guy from the high-back chair grunted again. “How old are you?”
I gulped back spit because I was nowhere near his age or the age of the other three guys; I was just a child in their eyes. I wondered if they liked little girls? “I’ll be thirteen soon.”
“Thirteen. . .and damaged,” the second guy dressed in black then interrupted icily from behind me. “You can’t use her, Jefe,” he then said, and I assumed, looking at the guy from the high-back chair now known to me as “Jefe” – the Boss.
Oh, my God! my mind panicked.
Because to me it meant he knew El Rey.
I started to breathe faster. . .harder.
Everything was slowly starting to blur.
I was feeling faint. . .nauseated. . .fucking scared.
“Please don’t send me back to El Rey, Jefe!” I pleaded. My heart was beating fast. My fear was caught in my throat with nowhere to run except through additional words of, “Please! Please!”
The Jefe smirked. A second later, he squatted to his knees and together we met eye-to-eye. His eyes looked gray and intense, yet I saw compassion. “Hector is right, Muñeca,” he sided with the second guy dressed in black now known to me as “Hector”, fingering the bandage. “You’re damaged,” he repeated Hector’s words, peeling back the bandage, and surveying El Rey’s damage. He shook his head and sighed out sharply. “Don’t get me wrong, Muñeca, that in spite of your beauty – because you are a very, very beautiful girl – you cannot work for me. Send her back!” Jefe ordered, standing abruptly to his feet. The unexpected outburst pushed me into a wave of tears and fear.
“I don’t think that’s possible, Nico,” the guy in the gray dress shirt said to my surprise. I quickly glanced up at him just as he was stealing a glance at me – my belly fluttered.
“And why’s that, Cristian, hmm?” Nico a.k.a. Jefe pressed. He sounded slightly annoyed over the debate from the guy in the gray dress shirt now known to me as “Cristian”.
“Because she lives in El Paso and we have no other pick-ups scheduled there anytime soon,” Cristian argued. He stole another look at me. And again, my belly fluttered.
“Then what do you suggest he do with her, bro?” Hector said looking down at me. I caught his reflection through the high-gloss polished floor. “I mean, it’s obvious she’s still a virgin based on the way she keeps looking at you.”
“And how’s that, hmm, bro?” Cristian sounded offended.
“She wants you to fuck her,” Hector said boldly, seizing the attention of both Nico and the first guy dressed in black because they were both looking down at me curiously. My belly then dropped to the very pit of my stomach because the mood had suddenly shifted and forced the temperature in the room to rise.
I was feeling hot and I was starting to sweat with fear, particularly over the word ‘fuck’.
Though it was a bad word, probably the worst word to ever use, it was also a word that pertained to sex, having sex. I had learned this from the kids at school. From boys my age and younger who said things like, ‘I’d like to fuck that girl!’ or ‘Yeah, dude. We fucked over the weekend,’ or ‘She likes to fuck’. And from the girls. . .‘All he ever thinks about is fucking!’ or ‘That boy doesn’t even know how to fuck!’ or ‘He says he wants to fuck’.
“Well even if she does, Jefe. . .it still won’t make a difference,” the guy dressed in black interjected. “Even if Cristian grooms her we still can’t sell her. No swinging dick is about to pay big money for a virgin face that’s all cut up.”
“It’s not even that bad, Romolo. . .three inches tops!” Cristian scoffed. “It just needs to get cleaned up.”
“It’s still going to leave a bad scar, vato,” Romolo, the first guy in black, continued to argue. “It’s not worth Nico’s pain.”
Nico stepped back to me and squatted back to his knees. We were eye-to-eye once again. I had expected for him to say something to me, but he didn’t. Instead he grabbed my chin and turned my face and surveyed my left cheek again. “I can’t risk these three inches, Cristian,” Nico said letting go of my face. He then took to thumbing my lips and saying, not to me but to Cristian, “But since you seem to have a hard-on about taking her back home then you’re just going to have to give me time to decide on what to do with her.” Nico pulled back his thumb and winked. And though I knew I should have trembled over that unexpected touch, the unanticipated gesture, as I never had a guy put his hand on me like that, I instead kept my cool and accepted whatever came my way with Nico and Cristian; Hector and Romolo.
Because to me these guys were a different kind of breed of man than the men I had been surrounded by the majority of my life. I honestly couldn’t explain my feelings on the matter. Maybe it was because I didn’t fear them the way I had feared El Rey or the words “Cartel Boss”. I didn’t see these guys as being ruthless killing machines as I thought them too pretty for that, too. . .compassionate.
What I didn’t understand was the business they were in as words like “sell”, “pay”, “fuck” and “swinging dicks” seemed to confuse me instead of worry me.
“Fuck you!” I heard Cristian mumble prompting Nico, Hector, and Romolo to chuckle.
“Well isn’t it true, carnal?” Nico said standing to Cristian’s attention and looking at him amusingly. “I mean,” – Nico stole a glance at me – “what vato wouldn’t,” he stressed, “have a hard-on for her if she were flawless, hmm?”
I quickly lowered my gaze on Nico’s bold, yet hurtful remark and cursed El Rey and God; especially God for creating such a demon of a man.
And I don’t know why – maybe because I figured perhaps I did it more out of spite than self-pity – but I reached for my necklace and yanked it off my neck and glared down at the cross.
It was made out of solid gold.
A gift from my parents.
The name ‘Marilyn’ was inscribed in the back of it.
I wanted to spit on it.
Stomp on it.
I picked up my hand and flung it hard across the room. Then after, jumped to my feet, charged passed Hector, and bolted out of the office, just as Nico was saying, “Let her be. She won’t get very far.”