Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 65222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 65222 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 326(@200wpm)___ 261(@250wpm)___ 217(@300wpm)
Mejia appears on the other side of the bars. He looks grim but determined. Four more men stand behind him, including the large guy who cut off my pants earlier. I try not to let it intimidate me, but all four men look savage. There’s no doubt in my mind Mejia called in the worst of the worst of the worst, those who would have no hesitation in violating a woman as a means of torture.
Mejia smiles at me confidently. He believes he’s going to win this battle.
It sucks… because my torture is going to be long, slow, and brutal. I’m not going to give up the information from gang rape. It’s going to shred my soul and probably my body, but it won’t make me talk. When I continue to maintain my silence, they’ll turn to other methods. It could be burning, cutting pieces off my body, or if they’re privy to the tried-and-true torture techniques, they’ll cane the bottom of my feet. I actually know what that feels like because I took a course on how to withstand torture, and each of the students had to experience a caning. Granted, we only got a couple of whacks whereas real torture would be extended, but I had enough to know I don’t want to experience it ever again.
I try not to forget the golden lesson they taught at that course: It’s okay to break. Everyone does sooner or later. But you should try to withstand for as long as possible to allow time for a rescue attempt. All I can hope for now is that CIA agents are on their way. They’ll know that when I missed my ex-filtration rendezvous, I was either dead or taken. They’ll make efforts to figure it out.
Mejia unlocks the door and pulls it open. The groaning creak sounds more ominous than ever, causing the hair on the back of my neck to stand on end. He doesn’t enter, though, stepping aside to let the four gang members walk in, creating a semicircle around me. Two are at my back. I can’t see them, but I think the attack will start there.
I’m not ready for this. I talk a big game, but I’m also scared… so scared, in fact, I’m afraid I might vomit. The only thing I can do is try to delay the inevitable.
I laser my eyes on Mejia and sneer in Spanish, “Aren’t you man enough to do this yourself? Having a hard time getting it up?”
Rather than be offended, Mejia shakes his head with a sad smile. “Señorita… I am a family man. My heart belongs to my wife, and I would never betray her that way.”
Damn if the man doesn’t sound sincere. I hate when the villains have some shred of decency within.
But I don’t let it go. I appraise him with my eyes slowly roving over his person with disdain. “Oh yeah… you can’t get it up. I bet your wife is frustrated with you. Hell, I bet she’s even banging the pool boy as we speak.”
That does the trick and Mejia’s face flushes, his teeth bared. He stomps into the cell, cocks his hand, and lets it fly. When his palm connects with my face, I taste blood where my teeth shred the inside of my cheek. My eyes water from the pain.
But I don’t show fear, nor do I cower. I slowly turn my head to glare at him. “Is that all you got? Because you’re not convincing me that you don’t have a limp dick.”
I had hoped my goading would anger him to the point that Mejia would just kill me. The best way to anger a man is to question his virility. But he’s too wise to fall for my taunts and too patient to reach the end goal of learning where I dumped his stolen property.
He nods at the thug to my right. “Jorge… as the senior man, you get to go first. Enjoy.”
A lightning bolt of fear hits me dead center, causing my nerves to sizzle and my head to swim. I know I’m moments away from being violated in a way that has never happened to me before. I’ve been through a lot of shit during my career as a CIA agent, but I’ve never had my sex as a female used against me. I try to shut my brain down, hoping I’ll be able to turn off what’s about to happen and crawl inside a safe place so none of this touches my soul.
Mejia leaves the cell but doesn’t shut the door. He has no need to lock me in and doesn’t look backward. The man named Jorge moves before me and grins with yellowed teeth. He has three dots tattooed on his right cheek, another symbol for Vecindario 18. He puts his face close to mine and snarls in Spanish, which sounds so much more menacing than English, “I’m going to tear you up inside.”