Free Cocked: A Stepbrother Romance by B. B. Hamel Page B

things,” I explained.
    “You could at least warn me.”
    “Sorry. Didn’t want an argument.”
    She scowled. “Whatever. Go get directions.”
    She was quiet after that as I went inside and got directions to the closest diner from the guy working the register. I was worried that she’d had her phone for so long, though I wasn’t sure how much info it was really transmitting. Still, it probably gave the cartel some idea of where we were, but I didn’t want to panic her. We drove another few miles and pulled into a blue and gray, beat-up looking place, complete with semitrucks in the lot and potholes all over the place.
    “Perfect,” I said as we climbed out.
    “Why’s this perfect?”
    “The crappier the diner, the better the food.”
    “Yeah? They have a lot of diners in Mexico?”
    “No. But I did spend some time across the border now and again.”
    We walked into the building, the ’50’s-notaglia décor a hilarious mix of doo-wop and proto-punk. We were seated immediately.
    “What was it like, anyway?” she asked after the waitress brought us both sodas.
    “What was what like?”
    “Mexico.”
    I shrugged. “Not bad, actually. Mexico City is pretty huge. Aside from the crime, it’s pretty fun.”
    “You mean, aside from you and your people.”
    “Pretty much.”
    “What did you do for them, anyway?”
    “Stole cars at first. Ran packages, did security. Grunt stuff, basically.”
    “Just at first?”
    “It got a little different after that.”
    “Like what?”
    I paused and took a sip of my drink. A memory came back to me, harsh and unwanted.
    She was tied up in the trunk like a hog, her eyes wide and wild, her hair a mess. My stomach dropped as I looked up at El Tiburon and his three goons, each of them grinning.
    “What you think, gringo?”
    “She’s pretty.”
    “No shit, man. But what you think?”
    “What are you asking me here?”
    El Tiburon walked closer. I could smell his cheap cologne and the tobacco he always chewed.
    “She’s gonna be one of our new girls, you know? Work her in the factory.”
    I nodded. I knew they employed poor peasant girls to work in their drug factories, weighing and packing the bags and doing whatever else they needed. Usually, they kept the girls naked to make sure they weren’t stealing.
    “She’ll be good for that.”
    “Yeah, man. After, if she works out, you can have her.”
    “Have her?”
    He stood close, grinning this evil grin, while the girl squirmed in the trunk. “Have her as your bitch. Use her how you want then get rid of her.”
    “How do I get rid of her?”
    “How the fuck you think?” He mimed shooting a gun.
    I felt sick to my stomach and looked at her. One day, when El Tiburon was sick of looking at her, I’d be expected to rape her and eventually murder her.
    “Sounds fucking good to me,” I said, keeping my face straight, though inwardly I was sick to my core.
    “Well?” Lacey asked me, drawing me back into the present.
    “Nothing you want to hear about.”
    She was about to say something else but the waitress returned and took our orders. As she walked away, I spoke up before Lacey had a chance to start asking more questions.
    “What was college like?”
    “Okay, I guess. I did a lot of studying.”
    “Didn’t party all the time?”
    “Sometimes. Not as much as other people, I guess.”
    “Come on. Don’t tell me you weren’t out getting wasted and meeting guys every night?”
    She laughed. “Hardly. That wasn’t really my college experience.”
    “What a shame. You’d have been really popular in Mexico.”
    “What’s that mean?”
    “Look at you. Nice skin, beautiful hair, curvy fucking body.”
    “Curvy? Don’t call me curvy.”
    “It’s a good thing.”
    “Curvy is what they say in bad romance novels, though.”
    I laughed. “You read lots of bad romances?”
    “Sometimes. Don’t change the subject.”
    “Okay. What I’m trying to say is, you have an incredible body.” I leaned forward,