“What does he have to do with anything?”
She pushes off from the bed and stands by the window. “I hired him to take you out and have you returned home at a certain time.”
I think back to that night. I remember Joe asked me to go to dinner. We had both skipped out on a very boring meeting. I drop my head to my knees, trying to accept what she is telling me.
“I-I don’t understand, Lynn. Why on earth would you do that?”
Lynn sighs, acting like she’s annoyed that I can’t keep up. “Fuck, Savannah, you had a perfect life, damn it! You had a father who made a ton of money, you got a crapload of attention, and all you had to do was stand there and look pretty. All he ever asked of you was to help a bit with his campaign, but no, you had to whine and bitch about it to me!” She makes a face. “Oh, Lynn, I hate being in the media. Oh, Lynn, I hate all the attention. Oh, Lynn, they think I’m a drunk, blah, blah, blah.” She stomps her foot like a child. “You had it so good, but were you happy? No! You couldn’t see past your own nose. It was always about poor Savannah. Christ, it made me so pissed!”
As everything comes pouring out of her, all I can do is stare at my best friend. I considered her like a sister for years, and to hear the poison in her voice is shocking. To hear someone you love speak to you like this with such obvious hatred is hard to grasp. How she despises me. Yet again, lies are being told; it is incredibly heartbreaking.
“If I was such a terrible friend, Lynn, why did you stick with me for so long?”
“Fame.” She shrugs like I should have connected the dots. “You were going to take me places, and I knew I could benefit until you started fucking up in the media. That’s when everything changed, that’s when I knew a decision needed to be made.”
The perfect storm is starting to brew inside me, tilting my world off its axis. “Decision?”
“Yes, Savannah, you were bringing everyone down with all your failures, so I stepped up to the plate. I knew someone who knew someone who was involved in human trafficking. Small world, hey?” She chuckles to herself. “So, I made some calls, and lo and behold, it seems the mayor of New York’s daughter was a sweet little prize to get. I hired Joe Might, a friend of mine, to pose as a potential buyer and make sure you arrived at your condo at the right time. I knew you would go get the files. You were always so OCD when it came to your job.” She rolls her eyes in disgust. “Then, poof, you were gone.” She laughs. “Like a magic trick, now you see her, now you don’t.”
That storm finally breaks, and I jump up and grab her by the hair, the two of us falling on the floor as I punch and kick and hit her, feeling the anger fueling my muscles. I’m sick of the lies, sick of being a victim. She certainly wasn’t expecting it, and I get quite a few good ones in before something cracks me in the head and everything goes black.
“Perra.” His voice jolts me from my sleep. “Oh, sweetperra, you came back.”
I quickly sit up and take in my surroundings. I’m in an attractive room with Spanish décor. Sunlight is streaming in through a large window. It’s hot. I’m sweating. I wipe my forehead and smell something funny. I realize I’m not alone in my bed. I scramble to my feet, seeing the blood. Oh my god, there’s so much blood! I’m covered in it. My hair, my hands, my arms, my legs. My fingers shake as I tug the corner of the sheet that’s closest to me. I need to know who it is. Dark hair peeks out. He is turned away from me. I see his shoulders, back, and waist. I drop the sheet and round the bed. I don’t have to see his face to know who it is. My hands cover my mouth as vomit spews out of me.
“No!” I heave and wail at the same time. This can’t be happening! The door opens quickly, and I see The American dressed in shorts and a t-shirt staring at me.
“You did this, you know.” He points with his chin toward the jelly-like body. “If you had just given yourself over to me in the first place, Agent Mark Lopez would still be alive.”
“Fuck you,” I hiss, wiping my mouth free of vomit. “Fuck all of you.”
He walks toward me as I raise my chin to meet his stare. His shoulder rises and he punches me square in the face. I feel myself falling, but I never hit the ground. I just keep falling…
I jolt straight up, trying to make sense of what’s going on. I feel around the bed, empty. I see a window, but it looks different than the one I saw before, and it is night. What? Was I dreaming before? Is Mark alive?
Pushing the covers away, I see I’m still in my own clothes. They’re dirty, but at least they are mine.
“Oh, good, you’re awake,” a voice says, coming out of what looks like a bathroom. Luka approaches, holding out a bag. “Here.” He sets the Nordstrom bag in front of me. “We need to meet downstairs in twenty. That should be enough time for you to shower, change, and be ready for the exchange.”
“Exchange?” I blurt, looking around the room.
Luka nods as he sets a cup of coffee on the table next to the window. “Yes, Savannah. You’ve been bought and paid for. We just need to make sure all the little details are properly checked out before we hand over our, for want of a better word, ace.”
My head is shaking back and forth. It seems nothing in my life can be trusted. In disbelief, I listen to someone else I considered a good friend—an uncle, even—talk about selling me like I’m nothing to him at all but a piece of merchandise. The memory of the trunk flickers. “Why the trunk? If I’m still your so-called ace, why did you hand me over to that man? Why risk it?”
He taps his head. “We had to risk it. Your boyfriend’s team was hot on our trail. We needed to throw them off, so we hired a friend to take you for a joy ride.” He shakes his head and smiles. “It wasn’t until he heard you talking on that cell phone that he decided to do the hotel trick. He dropped you off to us before he went to the hotel and left a little note for Logan to find. It worked like a charm. Meanwhile, we hopped the first plane to TJ, and you are now lost in a sea of a million people.”
Tijuana? Mexico…The blood drains to my toes. I promised myself I’d never step over the Mexican border again as long as I lived. I’ve experienced enough hell here for a lifetime, but here I am being handed over to The American in the one place I hate beyond all else. I can’t do this. Not again. I just can’t. I have to do something.
“Okay,” Luka slaps his hands together, making me jump, “let’s go.” He stares at me as I sit like a stone. “You need some help with that?” He smirks and points to my blouse. My eyes shoot to his, more shocked than ever. Luka has never said anything sexual to me before. Never even hinted at it. He really was like an uncle to me. It must show on my face because he shrugs. “Not like I haven’t thought about it before, Savannah. I’m only human. Can’t blame a man for trying.” I want to be sick again…or was I sick before? I can’t tell if that was a dream.
I grab the bag and hurry to the restroom, slamming the door behind me. I turn on the water and peel my clothes off and toss them on the floor. I’m not sure when I’ll have a chance to shower again, so I take my time. I find a razor, body wash, shampoo, and conditioner, and with my brain on overdrive, I put them to good use.
I look at myself in the mirror, my hair almost dry from the heat blasting in through the tiny window. A light pink dress hits slightly above my knees, and I’m wearing cream-colored heels. I wonder if Luka was the one who bought the panties and matching bra. The thought makes me want to throw something at the mirror. My eyes focus on the razor beside the soap dish. I examine it, then take the thin comb and snap the skinny blades out. They drop into my hand in one small unit. I shrug out of the top of the dress, taking the sharp blade and cutting into the first layer of lace on the bra. Just large enough to tuck the blade inside so it’s undetectable. I certainly won’t be able to defend myself with it, but I am desperate enough to take anything useful, and I have other ideas if there is any possibility I’m going to be held in another cell. I set the handle of the razor back down so it looks normal and peek out the minuscule window.
All I can see are rows and rows of tin roofs. But I do spot a plane landing off in the distance. I must be close to the airport. Two streets down, I see a convenience store with a payphone outside. I need to get out of here! I nearly sob when I hear Luka’s voice through the door telling me it’s time to go. I push on the glass, not that I could ever fit through it, and scream, hoping someone can hear me. A pair of hands grab my wrists, pulling them down roughly.
“Not this time, Savannah. This time you play by our rules.” He yanks me to follow, and somehow I do. He shoves me into the elevator and slams his hand over the L button. “Christ, woman, I wish you would just do as you’re told!”