“Your options are limited, but you have some.” He sucked on his teeth, watching her. “Money is one of them.”
“What do you mean? Money for what?”
“I’ll take you to a better place.” He held out a hand. “If you pay.”
“Pay?” She blinked at his waiting palm. “I don’t have—”
“If it was on you during your arrest, you still have it. The military isn’t interested in stealing money.”
She shoved a hand into her back pocket and pulled out the two-hundred dollars she’d kept at Vera’s house.
Her breath rushed out in relief.
She held out the cash to him, but at the last second, she yanked it back. “Where would you take me?”
“Area Three.”
She had no idea what that was. “Would I have my own cell with a lock?”
“Maybe, but it doesn’t matter. You’ll have protection.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You’re too pretty.” His gaze dipped, flitting down her legs before returning to her eyes. “Prettiest thing Jaulaso has ever seen. You won’t make it a week on this side. Pay me, and I’ll take you to a safer, more suitable living environment. Area Three protects its own.”
How did she know this guard wasn’t just trying to scam her out of money?
He leaned in and lowered his voice. “You’ll have many luxuries there, including your own toilet and phone.”
“I’ll be able to make phone calls? To whomever I want?”
“Yes.”
For the first time since she was ripped from her Jeep, her chest lifted with hope.
Maybe he was lying. She wouldn’t know for sure unless she accepted his offer, which was inarguably better than waiting for the next rapist to sneak into her cell.
She sure as fuck didn’t want to hang around until another guard walked in and found her with a dead body.
“Okay.” She handed him the money.
“Come with me.”The prison guard led Tula through the overcrowded corridors of Jaulaso, seemingly oblivious to the fact that every inch of her was shaking against a storm of doubt and fear.
How could she trust this man, who had just watched her fight off a rapist without stepping in to help? It felt like a setup as if he knew she would be attacked, and he was just waiting for the right moment to make her an offer she couldn’t refuse.
But if he wanted her money, he could’ve just taken it. He carried a rifle, for fuck’s sake.
The brutal stress of this waking nightmare kinked painful knots in her neck. Her legs wobbled like jelly as she tried to keep up. The reek of cigarette smoke assaulted her nose, the filth in the air so palpable it made her gag.
How did these people live like this? Sure, they were criminals, and most of them probably deserved to be here. But how many were innocent like her? How many had been forgotten and left here to die?
The backs of her eyes grew achy as she fixed them on the long gray ponytail of the guard in front of her.
He ushered her through a metal door and into an outdoor yard, surrounded by two-story walls capped in barbed wire.
Nighttime had fallen, dark and humid. Another day lost.
She’d been gone forty-eight hours. Who would collect her mail, water her plants, and pay her landlord for next month’s rent?
No one.
Even if she managed to reach her sister on the phone, she couldn’t trust Vera to pay her bills. Access to her bank account would be too tempting.
Vera would drain her savings. Not that she had savings. She lived paycheck-to-paycheck, and those paychecks would stop if she didn’t show up on the first day of school.
Two months.
She would be out of here by then.
The prison guard escorted her across the yard to another door. A young Hispanic man in civilian clothing stood beside it with a rifle resting on his shoulder.
Was he an inmate? She’d heard stories about how the cartels ruled the prisons inside their cities, but she never imagined their presence being so blatant. This guy was staring down her uniformed escort with an automatic rifle in his hand.
Was it true, then? Did the cartel have more power than the prison guards?
Her stomach tilted. Maybe this wasn’t her best option.
The armed inmate knocked on the entrance behind him without removing his eyes from her. Deadbolts sounded, and the door opened to a large indoor common area.
Rap music thumped from somewhere inside. Scantily dressed Latina women danced around a table of smiling men and beer bottles. Guys wearing bandannas and wife-beaters played pool. Others stood around laughing among themselves, not paying any attention to the lost woman in the doorway.
There was no stench of death and despair. No overcrowding. Plenty of room to walk around and keep to herself. It looked like a casual house party with friends. Nothing like a prison.
A man stepped into her line of sight, blocking her view. Dressed in a black shirt and trousers, he wore a wreath of gold chains around his thick neck.