They proceed with pulling all the clothes out of the bags, and they tuck them into the drawers, moving very slowly, proving they’re in no rush.
“If they’re scoping out the salon, they’re probably watching this place, too. But they’re apparently being more discreet than they are over at Herrin’s spot. I should call Drex,” he tells them.
Sledge turns to leave, and I hold back the waves of nausea. Why does the FBI want them? Because of the guy I had to watch be killed?
Swallowing hard, I push down the bile-encrusted memory that tries to surface. In one traumatic day, I sold my body to monsters, I was bent over a bed by a man I didn’t know, my body responded to him in the most traitorous of ways, and I had to watch a man’s head get blown off.
As much as I’d love to stay in this corner for the rest of my time here—however long that might be—the words Drex said keep running through my mind.
I can’t pout. I can’t act like this is as horrible as it is. I’m expected to play a part, or he’ll send me to Benny. The hairs on my body rise at the mere thought of something that vile. There’s no telling what he would do to me if I got sent back.
This all stinks to hell and back. I’m starting to feel like a pawn, especially since they all seem to be just as leery of this peculiar situation as I am. I thought it was a common occurrence amongst them. Apparently this is just as frigging crazy and unusual as I found it to be.
But what could Benny possibly have to gain by doing this? And why would Drex and his crew play along if it’s so out of the ordinary?
Their conversation grows louder when the redhead says, “Drex hasn’t ever had to pay for ass before. Why would he start now?”
They’re still hanging up my clothes or neatly folding them into drawers.
“He’s not paying for shit. The girl was a gift. Christ, why won’t you just come downstairs and talk about it? There’s no reason we have to discuss it up here.”
Sledge sounds irritated now, and his eyes keep flicking to the bathroom where he thinks I am. The small mirror still gives me a decent view of all three of them, though I hope they don’t glance in its direction. They might tell Drex I was hiding in the corner, and I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t like that.
“Because we’re waiting to see her. I’m assuming Drex will want her working at the salon or at the massage parlor. I’d like to at least know what the girl looks like. The longer we stand out here and talk, the sooner she warms up and comes to answer some questions for herself,” the blonde says, eyeing Sledge very defiantly with a broad smile on her face.
The guy is a beast. No way in hell would I talk to him like that. Is she crazy?
“Drex doesn’t want anyone talking to her. So I doubt she’ll be working with you. And I’m sure he doesn’t want everyone up here getting to know her. If you’ll come downstairs, I’ll explain that better.”
He doesn’t want anyone talking to me? Great. I’ve apparently sold myself and turned into a sex-slave prisoner. I’m starting to realize there’s no amount of therapy in the world that will be able to save me after this is over.
If it’s ever over.
“What the hell’s going on up here?”
Drex’s voice forces a blanket of dread and nerves to cloak me and almost strangle me. Shit. He’s here. He’ll see me being the miserable girl in the corner.
I need to put on my game face and act like I’m able to handle this. But that’s exactly what it’ll be—an act.
Chapter 10
DREX
I gave one simple order—don’t speak to the damn girl. I heard them talking from all the way downstairs. Un-fucking-believable. Just because she’s hiding in the bathroom, that doesn’t mean she’s not listening in.
I glare at Sledge, and he mumbles something about stubborn women. He needs to grow a set. He’s too big to be such a fucking pushover.
“I said, what the hell is going on up here?” I snap, glaring at Colleen, Sarah, and Sledge like they’re idiots. Because they are.
The girls both look down immediately, and Sledge groans. “The girls were curious about your new toy. They thought she might be working at the salon or the spa.”
The salon and spa are two of the legitimate businesses we use to clean the money we make on our car rebuilds and transports. Considering we can’t exactly let the feds walk in and see the cars and bikes we gut and rebuild to hide drugs or guns for transports, we need clean businesses that we can cook the books on.
Too much shit goes on in both places for the possible spy to head in to work. Besides, she’d have access to Benny too easily if I let her out of my sight.